It was a week ago today, I'd gotten up extra early to attend the governor's signing of the bill crafted by Del. Donald Elliott that would put the question of whether or not to expand Carroll's Board of Commissioners from three to five members to the voters on the 2004 ballot. As a strong supporter of that proposition, I gladly accepted his invitation to ride along with him.

I hastily showered and shaved, knowing that he's a very punctual person, and how much he's been looking forward to this occasion. All was going well until I started getting dressed. For much to my horror, I could barely squeeze into my suit pants, and had to suck my stomach in as far as I could before I was finally able to get 'em on. (Hard to believe they could've shrunk that much just hanging in the closet since I last wore 'em.) My dogs got a kick out of hearing my grunting like a water-buffalo, but were careful to keep a safe distance from me; no doubt out of fear I might implode at any second.

We arrived there in time for Donald to give me a brief tour of the capital grounds, the monuments and main buildings, which he knows "like the back of his hand." As well he should, considering that he's serving his fifth term on the delegation.

I was particularly impressed by the marble mosaic of the Great Seal of Maryland and the Tiffany glass dome in the Senate Building, but even more by the exhibit- Donald proudly showed me- of some of the works of William Henry Rinehardt, an internationally renowned sculptor who was born in Union Bridge. (Move over Taneytown, with your Francis Scott Key.)

Incidentally, as a tour guide, I'd give him a 4-star rating. In each building we entered he would search out the elevators to spare me from huffing and puffing climbing the stairs, and never complained when I stopped to catch a smoke outdoors. If, and when, he decides to say adios to the crass world of politics, he might consider becoming a full-fledged tour guide there. Although he might object to having to wear that colonial outfit and tricorn hat.

When we made our way into the governor's reception room, where the signing ceremony was to be held, it was already stacked to the rafters with those from the media, from special interest groups and legislators, who were all dressed in their best "bib and tucker" for the photographs that would be taken of 'em standing behind the governor as he signed their bills. (I remember praying my pants wouldn't split when I mounted the platform.)

Before the proceedings got underway, I enjoyed some light banter with three Democratic senators sitting alongside of me. I also liked watching all the glad-handing, hugging and kissing going on. State School Superintendent Nancy Grasmick stood out from the crowd in a cardinal- red outfit, and flitting around the room like a hostess at a Tupperware party.

True to my word, I kept the promise I'd made to Donald not to give the Speaker of the House Mike Busch an earful when standing directly behind him as the picture was taken of the guv signing Carroll's bill 290. But I must say, I was touched when the governor looked at me over his shoulder and said, "Thanks pal."

Now, I may be wrong but I took that to mean that he had read my column of May 15, titled "Give 'em hell Bobby" and that he was simply expressing his appreciation. I can hardly wait for Christmas to roll around, so I can send him a card signed, "Your pal, Dave."

Of course, I'm fully aware that my fraternizing with Republicans will cause my standing in the local Democratic party to drop like a lead balloon. And If I'm not hung in effigy as a turncoat, I'm sure many will urge me to switch to the GOP. But that'll never happen, for as I tell Sen. Larry Haines every time we meet, and he tries to convert me, I'll consider switching parties right after I have the sex change.