ElizabethMcDonald DesignatedKnitter's Open Salon Blog

"... because I have Humpbergers "

Thu, 29 Jan 2009 15:01:10 -0500

I read Liz's account of her recent journey through the Developmental Diagnosis process with Little Man. I feel like I could have written it. She is where I was at about 5 years ago. My son, Evan is 9 years old and was "officially diagnosed" with an Autism Spectrum Disorder (either Asperger's or PDD-NOS) at the start of Kindergarten.

Of course, we always knew he was "wired differently" from day one. He had some sort of swallowing issue to where he could not nurse or drink without a great deal of discomfort. Feeding time consisted of me giving him a few sips of milk/formula, his getting upset, me sticking my pinky in his mouth for him to suck on and to calm down (he wouldn't take a paci) and repeat until he had had enough.

Then, when it came time to start eating solid food, he couldn't swallow so we had in "feeding therapy" for 2 years. The first day he ate a cheeseburger was the happiest day of my life!

His speech skills were also delayed so we did the speech therapy bit. And of course, there was social skills therapy. I was working full time and wound up taking FMLA to accomodate all of his therapy appointments. Fortunately, too, I had outstanding insurance at the time.

To this day, I feel a bit of a twinge whenever someone refers to Evan as "autistic". I get defensive and want to say "he's just wired differently... there's nothing wrong with him." And, frankly, I truly believe that. We have never really discussed his diagnosis with Evan. I intentionally did not want him to know that he had that label "hung" on him because, frankly, I never wanted him to use it as an excuse.

A couple of nights ago, though, I was tucking him in and he had had a rough day with his after school buddy who is only five years old. I tried to tell him that all friends have rough patches and frankly, his friend was so much younger that he didn't necessarily have the same social skills as Evan or my older son. All of a sudden, he starts to tear up and said "I have a hard time making friends because I have Humperger's ". Shocked, I said "What?" "I have Humpberger's". I said "You mean, Asperger's?" He said "yeah". So I asked who told him that. He said his brother had told him.

So the 1000-pound elephant was in the room. It was time to give Evan the facts of life:

Yes, he had Asperger's. However, that didn't mean there was anything wrong with him.
Everyone has their own oddities and peculiarities and they do just fine. I told him that his uncle, his dad and I all probably had certain aspects of Asperger's
I also told him that just because he was diagnosed with Asperger's, he was capable of doing EVERY SINGLE THING any other person is capable of. He may have to use different approaches but by golly, we expect exactly the same thing of him that we would expect of any other child.

In other words, Evan doesn't get to act like a jerk just because he is "special needs". Evan still is expected to do the same work and have the same responsibilities even though he has asperger's. Evan deserves to be treated with the same dignity and respect that every other kid deserves.

The thing is, as hard as it is to think "my child isn't 'normal'", here's the real truth about Asperger's for us:

Evan is incredibly bright and talented in unique ways that would otherwise be unfathomable.
I truly believe that Evan's "struggles" since birth has made him a stronger and more resilient boy. That will serve him well his entire life.
Evan is the sweetest most affectionate and loving little boy I know. In a way, he is able to hang onto that innocence and sweetness much longer than "normal" kids. While other kids his age are rolling their eyes at their parents saying "dad, you suck!", Evan is still giving me hugs and kisses and constantly telling me he loves me.
We have a gift that means we never take every step forward with Evan (or our other son) for granted. Where some parents might not pay attention to seeing their kids play together, we watch with wonder, awe, and joy. And we are constantly reminded of others capacity for acceptance in the way they draw Evan into their fold and we watch him grow.
Because of Evan's diagnosis, we have a "village" of teachers who we think of as family because they have been with Evan for the last 3 years. They have kept an eye on our older son to make sure he is ok. They call us to share good news (like when Evan passed his reading assessment after working so hard). We even celebrate each family's milestones (like the birth of one teacher's daughter). This team of people mean more to me than you can ever know...

Evan is now 9 years old. He still struggles with some things but really... I think that is just because he is Evan and not from Asperger's. Despite being a string bean (he is 9 years old, nearly 5 feet tall; yet still has not hit the magic "80 pound mark" needed to ditch the booster seat), instead of worrying about his not being able to eat, we wonder how we will afford to feed him as he wolfs down 2 Quarter Pounders with Cheese in a single sitting! He has a little posse of friends that he hangs out with. In short, he does just about everything that his "normal" brother can do.

And frankly, while we do worry about him (he is the baby after all), we also know that he will be just fine. As I said, he may have to learn how to do things a little differently, but he has demonstrated that with the right support and attitude, he will accomplish EVERYTHING he wants to.

To other Liz and other moms who are starting to come to terms with a diagnosis, I certainly understand the shock and pain that comes with knowing exactly what all is going on with your child.

However, once the shock of the labels wears off, realize that Asperger's or any other developmental idiology is just a way to categorize certain personality types. It serves more of a "social purpose" because it allows people to grasp and accept personality differences where they might otherwise just chalk it up to "that kid is wierd".

Other things that helped me e to come to terms with Evan's unique personality is the following:

FUCK the labels. Evan is who he is and I wouldn't have him any other way.
That said, USE the labels to your advantage to get the social services and the support that your child needs.
Do NOT EXPECT ANY LESS of your child than you did before. You and your child may have to work a little harder to achieve your collective goals; but it will happen.
Do not allow your child to use their diagnosis as an excuse for not doing what they need to do. Like all kids, Evan often will only work on what he is interested in. However, he needs to put up with the same level of work and learning outcomes as every other kid in that school.
Your child isn't going to grow up wishing they were "normal" because to them, they are "normal". They don't know any other way of being.

This last item is the most important thing and thing that I will preserve until my dying day. To paraphrase Popeye: We are who we are... and I wouldn't wish for anything else for Evan!

Good luck, Liz and fellow mommies out there!

"Yes, Eric..."

Sat, 24 Jan 2009 22:01:22 -0500

"Yes, Eric."

I saw those words in my inbox and drew in my breath. I couldn't believe after all these years I had found him. Even though I had been married for over 13 years, had 2 boys and was now well into my 40s, just seeing his name again had the same intoxicating effect that it had on me as a school girl.

Eric was my first love in every sense of the word. In many ways, I feel like he has been my only true love. It had been nearly 15 years since I had talked to him. Ironically, at one point, we lived only 5 miles apart in the same town for three years even though we never knew it. My husband and he were in the same residency program together even though they didn't know each other.

I often wondered how he was and where he was. However, it wasn't until the age of Google that it was possible to hunt him down like the dog that he was! Fortunately, he had a fairly unusual name and was in academic medicine so published a fair amount. As a result, I was able to track him down and eventually was able to get an email address for him through the university where he was working.

When I sent that first email to him, I was in the throes of a "midlife crisis". As I told Eric, I really had the urge... the need to talk to him again since he had been around in my early 20s for my "beginning of life" crisis. Eric had taught me so much about who I was and who I wanted to be at that time that I felt it only fair that I drag him along kicking and screaming for the next stage.

Throughout the 90s, I had spent so much time wishing I could talk to him. Our time together was so intense and so intimate. I would not be who I am today without the hours and hours that Eric and I spent just talking about stuff back then. And not having him in my life almost made me question whether what had happened back in college was real. It was almost a Zen riddle along the lines of if a tree falls in the forest: If a love affair and a friendship happened but that person is no longer in your life, did it really happen? Did it really matter?

And I needed for our relationship to have happened and to have mattered. I needed for it to have been real. Because if it wasn't, what did that say about the person I am now? Am I really who I think I am?

All those years, I really wanted to know three things:

Had Eric thought of me through the years? Had he wanted to get in touch with me? Had he missed me the same way I missed him?
How did Eric regard me at this point? Just an old friend? A potential stalker? His first and only real love?
But most importantly, I wanted to know exactly what was it about me where he knew that he would never want to marry me? I thought he really loved me and it had always bugged the hell out of me that I was good enough to go out with, to sleep with for years yet he always knew that when he graduated and he left college -- that would be that.

The last night that we talked in 1989 and he told me that he was married, I felt like I had been kicked in the gut. I guess while we were in college, I was in denial -- that we really loved each other and when the time came, things would work out. After we graduated, he moved away and the long-distance thing didn't work out. At that point, I could tell myself that it was because he was focused on getting through med school and didn't have time/energy for someone else in his life.

But then when he told me that he had gotten married -- I had nothing left to do but question what there was about *ME* that made me "unlovable" and someone not worthy of being with for the long haul....

Yeah -- I know -- it had been 20 years. Get over it already. And maybe I would be if it hadn't been for my own husband trying to dump me two years earlier. Eric and my husband were the only two men I have ever loved -- emotionally and physically. I guess I really started feeling like I'm ok up to a point -- until someone better comes along (especially after what happened a couple of years earlier with my husband).

And the thing is -- I have never felt the same "way" about my husband as I had felt about Eric. I love my husband. However, it has always been a different "kind" of love -- if that makes sense. Kind of like the difference between flying willy-nilly out of control on the back of a horse hanging on for dear life as it jumps a fence (Eric) vs. the much more "controlled" (and safer) partnership that you think of with dressage (my husband).

Looking back to college, I know at this point that there were many aspects of our relationship that were pretty messed up. But I still had that little lovesick girl inside of me that would think if I had been smarter, prettier, emotionally mature… then Eric wouldn't have "left me".

It has been over four years since I had that first email land in my inbox. Eric and I have continued to email each other at least daily. He has had two more children but his marriage has gradually devolved to misery. My husband has had at least two more affairs. However, Eric and I have maintained VERY STRICT “rules of engagement” for our current relationship because we both understand that as long as we are in our current marriages, our priority must be and will be to our current spouses.

Our respective spouses have never liked the fact that Eric and I have become friends again (even if only “electronic friends” at that – we have never spoken on the phone). Ironically, though, if it weren’t for each other, we both would probably have ended our respective marriages a long time ago. We joke to each other that no good deed goes unpunished.

Eric and I are both very different people than we were in college. Yet, we both still know each other better than anyone else in this world. We have a level of understanding for each other that we have never experienced with anyone else in our lives including our own parents, siblings, or spouses. And there is this sense that we will always be a part of each other’s lives going forward – that that piece of ourselves that had been missing for so long has finally been found. Having been found, we will not let it be lost ever again.

Proof That God Loves Me And Wants Me To Be Happy

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 04:07:09 -0400

Benjamin Franklin has been quoted as saying "Beer is proof that God Loves Us and Wants us to be happy." Ben, in my humble opinion, was off just a tad: Bach is proof that God Loves Us and Wants Us to be Happy. (However, given that beer was probably much more available in the day than virtuoso violinists playing Bach, one can understand how he would make that mistake).

Today, I spent 6 hours on the road to attend a dressage clinic with a former olympic rider only to learn the following:

My horse doesn't like music
How to get a horse to stop using your cellulite, looking at the sky, and using your heels like Fred Flinstone all at the same time (it is trickier than it sounds)
If I truly want to help my horse, I must commit to Pilates
My horse is lame (not as in "gee, mom... that was so LAME". Rather, there was something horribly wrong whenever he tried to trot and I couldn't take the time to help him work through it)
You can apparently break your back by spending an entire flight from Sydney, Australia to LA just laying down across four seats if you have osteoporsis

All in all, it was not the most positive equine experience I have had. I was crying my eyes out by the end of the lesson because I felt so bad for my horse. I also felt humiliated and embarrassed for many reasons that are beyond the scope of this blog (by now, you may actually be wondering what the scope of this blog is!).

As I was driving back -- I popped in a few of my favorite CDs to pass the miles away. The first was Howard Hanson symphonies. The second and third were the complete Sonatas and Partitas for Unaccompanied Violin. By the time I got through the Howard Hanson symphonies and the opening chords of the First Violin Sonata, the sting and the disappointment were quickly disappating. By the time the Bach Chaconne (the last movement of the last Partita) started to play, I was crying again -- only this time, tears of love and joy.

Music -- classical music in particular -- has always been a major part of my life. In fact, you could argue that if it wasn't for classical music, I might never have been born. My mom and dad met while playing violin in the University of Illinois Symphony. Both my parents were very talented violinists. My mom was accepted and attended the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York on a full scholarship. Eastman is to music as the Ivy Leagues are to academics. For my mom -- music was her chosen major.

My father, on the other hand, grew up in Southern Illinois and didn't exactly have the best training available -- but he was quite talented in his own right. For him, violin was his passion but he knew that he would have to major in something more pragmatic (business) in order to be able to support himself and a family. However, he still always made time for violin.

After meeting in the U of I symphony (my mom utlimately decided to transfer back to Illinois because being so far from home proved to be too emotionally stressful for her), they fell in love, got married and stayed married until the day my dad passed away in 1994.

Music was a constant in our lives growing up. My first memory of music was "The Christmas Tape". My dad, in addition to his passion for music, also had a passion for gadgets (I come by that honestly!). Before I was born, he purchased a Wallensack Reel-to-Reel tape deck -- state of the art, back in the day. He recorded classical Chrismas music off the radio. To this day, my sisters and I still listen to "THE Christmas tape". It is imperfect -- full of pops and "creative" editing (one song will just stop mid-song and another will start up -- also mid song) but part of what we love about that tape are the imperfections.

When I was four, I wanted to learn how to play jingle bells so I sounded it out by ear on the piano. Being left-handed, I used my left hand. At that point, they figured they better get me real piano lessons before I started doing everything left handed. Every week, my mom would take us into Chicago (a one-hour train ride and a 13-block walk) to the American Conservatory of Music so that we could study with some of the best teachers available. My oldest sister, Karen -- continued to focus on piano. The middle sister, Susan -- who had the rebel thing going -- decided to go with flute. Me? I did piano and violin. We were all actually pretty good -- not child prodigy material but quite "respectible". And we loved it. It was our outlet. It was our "thing" that made us special. It was our therapy. It was our means of "positive attention".

Growing up, there was always music playing. Every sunday we would spend the day listening to classical music while my parents would read the Sunday newspaper form cover to cover and we kids would "hang out". We had a summer cabin up in Eagle River, WI and we would go to sleep listening to the great romantic violin concertos or Billy the Kid and other Copeland works. The cabin faced west and so we would listen to music while watching gorgeous sunsets night after night after night.

Those nights in Eagle River were the beginning of what I think of as "the soundtrack of my life". Sinc e there was seldom a time when music wasn't playing, my moods became synonimous with the music that was being played at the time. When I was in grade school, I was into reading historical fiction (Gwen Bristow was my favorite author). That was the time I discovered Shostikovitch. So when I hear Shostikovitch, I can't help but be transported back to those days of reading Celia Garth and Jubilee Trail. When I see a sunset, my mind starts to hear the Tchaikowsky violin concerto... or when I hear the Tchaikowsky, I automatically picture the sunset -- I'm unable to separate the two.

By Junior High, my own piano playing became a window into my moods. There were certain pieces I would play when I was angry -- a Chopin Prelude or something else where I could bang away. When I was feeling good, I would play some light-hearted Mendelsohn Song without words. You could tell exactly what kind of mood I was in simply by the songs I was playing.

By college, my musical tastes started to become influenced by my crushes and my first love. My major crush was into Bruckner so Bruckner became my passion. The purity and the energy of the Brass sections seemed so symbolic of the purity and energy of my crush. The crush didn't work out (they seldom do) and after a couple of years where I was best friends with a boy, our relationship blossomed to love. The Chopin Piano concerto slow movement was the piece where unspoken feelings morphed into love. To this day, when I listen to that concerto, I think of my first love. Then there was the dark time in our relationship where my love's mother was dying of cancer. There, Brahms first symphony became the expression of my anger and a Beethovan sonata was the outlet for my depression.

But there are two pieces of music that remain for me "sacred". The Bach Chaconne and Mahlers 2nd symphony. These two pieces are so far apart in terms of style -- the Bach is for unaccompanied violin and is one of the most technically challenging pieces that a violinst must master. The Mahler, on the other hand, is a grand explosive symphony that requres "all hands on deck" in order to be performed -- every musician in a symphony orchestra -- and anyone else they can find -- are required to make this piece come alive.

However, both pieces are similar in that they mimic the progression of a lovers quarrel. They start out almost angrily and with a tension that is begging for relief. They explore the themes in so many ways -- sometimes defiant and beligerantly, other times tentative and meekly. Finally, like most conflicts -- there is a break through and the tone shifts to peace, reconciliation and redemption. Both end on a hopeful and optimistic note -- like seeing a rainbow at the end of a bitter violent storm.

Both of these works were favorites of my father. In a way, they are a metaphor for certain aspects of his life, which is part of the reason, I think, he was drawn to them. The tension and morose episodes that eventually give way to hope and reconciliation.

Sometimes, it is difficult for me to figure out whether my choice of music influences my mood or if my mood infuences my choice of music. To an extent, I believe it is a bit of both. I will go for stretches where I don't listen to classical music. During those times, I will listen to NPR or alternative music via XM. However, when emotion is running particularly deep, I return to the classical works that have been with me since my earliest memory. When I do, it is like everything that is wrong with the world starts to work itself out.

I will always be greatful to my mom and dad for giving me their music and encouraging me to find my own. I can only hope that I am able to give my own children a similar gift.

Why I'm Not A Liberal

Thu, 10 Jul 2008 20:07:07 -0400

NeilPaul told me to turn in my liberal card at the door. Actually, I can't. My dirty little secret is that I'm not really a "liberal" in the true sense of the word.

While I believe passionately in civil rights, civil liberties, women's right to choose, I also believe nearly as passionately in personal responsibility, property rights and a minimalist government.

A person should be allowed to engage in virtually any act as long it does not infringe on another person's liberties, health life. You want to ride your motorcycle without a helmet -- go for it. However, if have an accident and crack your head open and don't have insurance, don't expect the government to pay to glue you back together. You choose to drop out of school? Okey dokey -- just don't expect a welfare check when you can't get a job that pays a living wage because you lack the education needed for a decent paying job. However, if you *DO* stay in school and do well and want to get a college education, then you should have the right to get that education regardless of your economic situation. In other words, take the money that is spent on welfare and put it in the educational system.

I think, for the most part, these are issues that most people can get behind (though the whole "welfare-elimination" thing might be somewhat controversial).

Let's talk about flood relief. I lived in St. Louis in the mid 90s. Every year, the Missouri river flooded and thousands of people lost their homes. The thing that got to me was they interview person after person who would say "I've lived here all my life... it is my right to live here and I'm going to rebuild". Year after year after year, the floods would come, the homes would be destroyed and the federal government would give them money to rebuild. Talk about throwing money down a rat hole. I understand that shit can happen to everyone and when you are truly a victim, you deserve some help. However, if you build your house in a flood plain -- an area that you can say with a fairly high probability is going to be flooded out with some regularity -- then don't expect the government to bail you out over and over... one bail out per customer.

What about death penalty? Totally appropriate, in my opinion. You willingly go out and whack someone -- you have violated that person's rights and you deserve to have your rights taken away in a way that is comparable. None of this "let's take killer and pay their room and board and medical expenses for the next 40 -60 years. Kill AND be killed.

The government should be limited to the following:

1. Law Enforcement -- including enforcement of civil liberties

2. Education

3. National Defense

4. National Infrastructure -- roads, utilities, etc.

5. Regulating matters associated with the public safety -- public health, product safety etc.

6. Reasonable taxation to pay for the above -- particularly for irresponsible and unhealthy (risky) behaviors:

Wanna Smoke? Fine -- tax it to pay for the health-related expenses that come from smoking.
Alcohol -- ditto
"Illegal" drugs -- ditto
Pornography
Prostitution

What the government shouldn't be doing:

1. Regulating trade -- free market means that -- free of regulation

2. Welfare -- One "free pass" but no rewards for multiple children or refusing to get sufficient vocational training needed to support yourself.

3. Retirement -- you get what you paid in -- nothing more. If you don't put anything in and don't plan for retirement, hope you have some family to take care of you.

4. Corporate bailouts

5. Enforcing morality and religeous values

6. International policing of other governments

So gun rights -- sure (but if you use YOUR gone to hurt someone else, be prepared to lose your rights). Death penalty -- absolutely. Income tax policies that don't discriminate against those who make more because they invested in their education? Definitely. Why should I be punished because I chose a profession that pays well? Limited entitlements -- yes! You are responsible for your own destiny and your neighbor is responsible for theirs.

In essence, I believe in a system of social liberalism and fiscal conservatism. From a social perspective, I'm mostly in the democratic camp. However, on matters of the economy and the role of government, I'm republican -- at least the "old-style" republican (not Bush's brand of republicanism). Of course, there is a name for this: Libertarian. Unfortunately, the Libertarian party is relegated to the lunatic fringe.

So where does this leave me? When I go into the voting booth, I vote very differently when it comes to national vs state/local offices. I've got the voting record of a paranoid schizophrenic. For judicial offices, I vote democratic since they tend to control more of the social and civil liberty issues. However, for legislative offices, I tend to vote republican since they control more of the fiscal policy. Not great but the best I've got.

Outside the Rope Line -- Witness to History

Mon, 9 Jun 2008 16:06:08 -0400

I recieved a cryptic call yesterday from the woman who headed the Triangle for Obama group yesterday saying that if I wanted to help volunteer at an event featuring Obama tomorrow, show up at 1201 Edwards Mill Rd at 8:00 pm that evening. I would also need to be available for most of the day today.

I went to the meeting and Obama's advance team was there telling us that Obama was going to be giving his first official speech of the general election today and he was going to be kicking off a 2-week cycle of speeches featuring the economy in North Carolina. North Carolina has not voted Democratic since Jimmy Carter in 1976 but due to Obama's strong showing in the primaries, they hoped to make NC "blue" this year.

There were 3 cardinal rules: 1. No running; 2. No Yelling; and 3) No talking to the press. After awhile, they split us into teams: ushers, line folks, voter registration, and press. I volunteered to assist the press. Later, we met with the press liason who briefed us further. The event was divided into three groups: the attendees, the press, and the Senator. Our job was to make sure the three groups remained independent. Furthermore, there was local press and the traveling press corps. Those groups also were to remain separate. We were briefed on the security procedures and assigned areas within the press zone to be covered. I was picked to work the main riser area -- the areas where all the television crews would be so that the speech could be covered by the major networks.

I was able to bring my 10-year-old son who is a big Obama fan. He even got to miss a day of school -- making him an even BIGGER obama fan. We arrived at around 9:30 a.m. and it was already 100 degrees outside. We waited for about 40 minutes out in the sun while the secret service swept the building with bomb-sniffing dogs one last time. Soon we were let in -- the volunteers went through security first. We had to place our bags in a pile so that the dogs could sniff them. However, this was also true of all the press as well.

We were inside the building and at our "post" for about 2 hours prior to Senator Obama's arrival. My son was regretting not having brought anything to read and I let him use my cell phone to play solitare. I couple of reporters approached us -- apprently they were interested in what my son might have to say about this event -- the invitation-only crowd did not include many children. I politefully declined since we were volunteers and again, cardinal rule number 3 was "though shalt not talk to the press".

Soon there was a bustle of activity as a bus brought in the traveling press corps. They had to move quickly because they only had a few minutes to set up their cameras and to get into position before Senator Obama took the stage.

Soon cheers went through the crowd and everyone started raising their cell phones to try to capture something... what they were trying to capture -- no one knew. My son and I decided to stay back in the press area and positioned ourselves on the main riser alongside the national and local camera crews -- definitely among the best seats in the house.

Governer Mike Easely was the first to come on stage. Having endorsed Hillary Clinton during the primary, this would have been the first meeting between Obama and Easely since the NC primary in May. Gov. Easely received a standing ovation when he announced to the crowd that he may have been late boarding the train (referring to his endorsement of Clinton) but he would much rather be on the caboose of the Obama wagon instead of leading the way for McCain.

Easely introduced Obama and the two greeted each other with a fist bump and it was obvious that there were no hard feelings. Obama started out by expressing his gratitude and admiration for Hillary Clinton and her historic run. He also introduced John and Elizabeth Edwards as well as Governers from Montana and West Virginia -- the irony of the latter was interesting since Obama had received such a drubbing in West Virginia.

After the speech, my son and I rushed up to the front where the "rope line" was being conducted -- not so much a "rope line" as Obama making a loop in front of the stage to shake hands. We almost got close enough to shake his hand. However, the secret service next to Obama was kind enough to take our copy of Obama's book backstage so that Obama could autograph it for us.

It was an interesting atmosphere while we waited several minutes for our book to be returned. Some of the secret service were posing for pictures with attendees -- nearly celebrities in their own right. I was impressed and surprised at how personable and friendly the SS detail was despite their grim "men in black" persona. "Backstage" was separated by blue curtains and at one point, I tried to peak through the crack into the back. The secret service politely but firmly told me that that wasn't acceptable. As one of them told me "there are good times to be curious and bad times ... this is a bad time."

Soon they brought out the book and my son and I left. Overall, the event was like a Wagnerian Opera -- moments of greatness interspersed amongst hours of relative boredom. However, we both felt like we had come as close to history as one can come and both left very excited.

I just hope my boss doesn't see me on the news because since I called in sick this morning so I could attend. But it was worth it!