Were I 20 years younger, I would be taking the train into NYC today to be at this.
20 years ago it was 1992 and I was contemplating my third year of graduate school and taking my oral exams, I didn't know Jim (wish I did as that would have made grad school much better). Amazing that just five years later, Charlie was born.
To be honest, I don't think my 23-year-old self would have had the gumption to don a balaclava and protest on behalf of imprisoned feminist punk rockers. I had all these voices in my head telling me ever to do the good girl thing and not be too adventurous or express strong political and other opinions as I had attempted at the age of 12 when I wore a pin proclaiming 'Never Underestimate the Power of a Woman' I'd gotten at the school carnival.
Various experiences, some related here, have changed that.
Experiences including praising your boy for vomiting perfectly into the plastic bag you're holding (Jim drove and opened a window as I asked) and scrubbing out the car under moonlight.
The sixth day of camp was great, with Charlie smiling an especial lot in the pool, liking music and dozing during art. After a rest at home Jim drove us (in commute traffic) out to Jersey horse country.
They did the usual 16 miles and it was dark in the woods when they finished.
We figure the antibiotic, the fast bike ride in cooler temperatures, eating a burrito too fast in the car, 'who knows what,' contributed to Charlie being nauseous. He is better but sleepless at 2am -- maybe transition butterflies as it's down to the last day of camp?
Mayhap I'll be up to catch the verdict of the trial when it's announced.