Let's Go Fly a Kite . . .

Every time I fly, I think of that song. I don't know why.
Oh, Mary Poppins . . . practically perfect in every way :]

As I type this, I'm sitting next to my husband, watching out the window as our plane to San Fransisco is pulling up to the gate . . .

Which means this is really happening.
 So I'm going to go scream into a brown paper bag and hyperventilate.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The whole week is kind of a blur, but it was a good week. Eventful, stressful, but good. Lots of family visits, lots of fun, lots of goodbyes.  The goodbye hasn't really hit me yet.

At the next gate, there's a small child nearby chanting, "Mama! Papa! Mama! Papa!" incessantly.  We're trying REALLY hard not to laugh.

Chris is sneezing and rearranged  our bags for the upteenth time. You never know how much stuff you have until you try to fit it on a suitcase . . . or three . . . I am proud to announce that I fit a week's worth of clothes for the two of us into a single carry-on.  I'll take my worthy traveler badge, now, thank-you-very-much.

The missing people hasn't fully hit me, yet.  It will soon, I'm sure--I don't know what will happen when it does . . . I don't do tears, well.  The new-place-is-permanent hasn't settled in as reality. This has been a "plan" for so long, you never really think you'll see it, feel it.  But here it is.  Part of me is still kind of in denial . . . the rest of me is bouncy around like a maniac child on a sugar rush, and I'm trying to contain it. Does it seem insensitive that I don't cry? We'll be back for a visit in June . . . and, if this doesn't work out, you know . . . but I'm really, really, REALLY hoping it works out. You have no idea.

Boarding in ten minutes.
This is totally happening.
HOLYFREAKNCRAPMARYMOTHEROFGODOHMYGOODNESSGOLLYGEEWILLICKERSOHMYGOOOOOOOOSH