Butterflies? Who, me??

Lucy called this afternoon to ask if I have butterflies. No. Well, yes, to be honest, but only about the Raiders' dwindling hopes for a win this afternoon against Denver. About school? I'm fine. I believe the hardest part is over. Making the decision was easy for me. It's been more difficult watching others absorb the changes. David's had trouble hopping aboard my magic carpet; he likes speed he can control. Some of my co-workers are sad to see me go. My carpool partner was so upset that she bought a new Honda Civic hybrid, so she can still use the diamond lane, though we will no longer talk politics (in the morning) or vent about work and life (in the afternoon). My office mate wouldn't let me clean my desk or bulletin board until after she was gone for the day. I tried to sneak out on my last afternoon, to avoid the tears I'd have to shed in empathy. Because I'm almost embarrassed at how happy and excited I am.

Last year on my birthday, I took BART into San Francisco for the day: lunch at the MOMA, an afternoon at the Bliss Spa at the W Hotel, happy hour with Madeline and David at Hawthorne Lane. My first stop, though, was at the Carousel in Yerba Buena Gardens. You get to ride twice for $3, and I did, and there was Beatles music and a little herd of pre-schoolers with their shepherd-moms. I ended the day in a state of post-massage, post-manicure, post-martini cheer, but that didn't come close to the euphoria I felt on my purple steed.

That's sort of how I'm feeling, tonight.