Arrival in Tampa

We are now in Tampa.

After a wonderful sendoff from Sarah, Rob and Scout, with a nice cameo from Jamaica and Nelson, our 5am wake-up wasn't too jarring as I am not sure we actually slept all that much. Our cab to the airport actually showed up which was nice considering when I ordered it the night before the guy initially told me "we aren't taking any orders between 4am and 7am due to the marathon" but when I asked him how he would suggest we get to the airport, he took our info and said "we'll try."

My recently won premier status with United from all my to-ing and fro-ing to St Louis put us in the short line (and allowed us to check our two enormous bags for free), giving us time to share an omelet and greenish home fries at an SFO greasy spoon before heading to our gate.

We connected through Houston, which meant 3 1/2 hours for flight #1 and 2 hours for flight #2. Emerson partied the whole first flight and slept the entire second one. During the layover, Emerson got to pretend to drive one of those electric carts and it seems to have been one of the highlights of his life so far.

On arrival, our bags were among the first to come out (thank you United!) and we got an upgraded rental car, which was lucky because the one we had reserved would almost definitely not have fit all of our stuff and us in it.

We checked into our hotel and got an upgrade there as well! Or so she said: it feels like a normal room and doesn't have any separate space like one might expect from a suite, but it does have a great view and Emerson is fascinated by the glass box known as the shower. I'm not asking any questions.

As Eric went down to the lobby to pick up his Domino's pizza, he learned why there are Tampa Bay Buccaneers balloons and signs everywhere: they are staying here for training. Eric rode the elevator with one of them and was impressed by his "athletic build."

We have a full day tomorrow looking at day cares, homes to rent and homes to buy. We will dress appropriately given the warm weather, which could mean towels like one might wear in a steam room, or maybe just the Westin robes included here in our room, though I don't know if they match any of my shoes.

The first in our family to go east

Roy, our Honda Accord, was picked up today by the car carrier that will ferry him to Tampa. He may even beat us there, arriving on Sunday before we do.

He appeared to be in good company, along with another white Accord on the top bunk of the truck.

If, like me, you have wondered what it looks like when they load your car onto a car carrier, here you go:

Little brother

We went for the 20 week ultrasound today. Our technician was a very southern middle-aged woman who had a colorful way of describing everything.

"Are you gonna let me tell you who you've got in there?" she asked in her twang, meaning did we want to know the gender. We said yes, we'd like to know.

"I'm surprised you haven't noticed it already. It has been kind of hard to avoid! Look - there's his little tallywhacker," she commented.

"What?" I said dumbly.

"He's been waving his flag all over the place!" she said.

"It's a little dude!" exclaimed Eric. "Oh boy are we in for it now."

Here's a 3d "party pic" as she called it of Groucho, also known as Emerson's soon to be little bro:

Purge, in two phases

We have actually done a pretty good job these past few weeks figuring out what the move and what to leave behind. And we have done some targeted handing-down of our used items to friends but still had a fair amount of stuff to pass on to a new home.

Step 1 was a sidewalk sale this morning while Emerson ran up and down the block. It was fascinating to see what people wanted and what they didn't. Not what I would have expected. A woman about my size was very excited to take some of my old suits but no one wanted to pay even a few bucks for our awesome aloe plant named Mr. T.

A neighbor brought her dog by along with a small ball to throw for the dog to catch. Emerson was so delighted by this that he was laughing, snorting and stomping his feet almost uncontrollably.

Step 2 was the "free" sale. The things we still wanted to try to sell we brought inside and the rest we left out front with a big sign that said "Free." We also posted it on craigslist. Then we sat back and watched the parade of people come by and pick through our stuff. A man in a top hat really liked a silver blouse of mine but it didn't quite fit him; a Hispanic woman was very pleased to take it later on.

We had the windows open so even when we weren't watching we could hear the commentary, often accompanied with lots of laughter. "What's so funny?" I sometimes wanted to ask. But I didn't want to scare away the people who were making use of our apparently hilarious stuff.

It was interesting to see the dregs of the free stuff: what did no one want even for free? A trashy crime novel, two self-help books and some maps for cities that are not San Francisco. Also a small bottle of organic baby shampoo.

It's on

I decided to take a moment this morning to share, via blog, that I think I am now in full freak-out mode about this move.

It may require us to bend the space-time continuum to make it all happen.

Let me say a few more things about moving

For a longer-than-you-might-expect time now, we have been trying to eat our way through our freezer, cabinets and fridge. I can confirm that this is as uninspiring as it sounds overall, and the final phase of it which we have just entered is particularly grim.

Just ask Eric or anyone who has been to a pot luck with me in the last two months if I will ever be allowed to purchase a 5 pound bag of organic quinoa again. Unlikely.

Namaste

I taught my final yoga class at the Embarcadero YMCA this morning at the usual time of 6:30am.

I have a great group of regulars and we always have a lot of fun in spite of the early hour. (Pretty much every Thursday morning when I get up at 5:45am I decide that I need to quit and that this will be my last class. But then by the end of class it feels so worth it, I decide to stick with it a little longer).

But today actually was my last class and it was actually kind of sad.

The regulars and some of the Y staff all signed a card for me and they also gave me a $100 Amazon gift card. (Wow!) After class, one woman said, "I teared up during the final Om thinking that this was the last one." (Double wow.)

I don't actually think of myself as a great yoga teacher, so it was neat and a little surprising how attached this group had gotten to me. The comments in the card were just lovely - phrases like "healing touch" really meant a lot to me. I have really appreciated them and will miss them too.

To Tiburon (and back)

Last Saturday Eric and I did two things we have never done before: hired a babysitter during the day and rode our bikes to Tiburon and then took the ferry back.

We made a list of all the things we want to do before we leave San Francisco (this is a different list from all the things we have to do before we leave San Francisco, like pack). One of those things was doing the "wiggle" which is biking along the least hilly path from the Mission to Golden Gate Park. This was the first portion of our ride out to Tiburon with our friends Julie and Adam.

It was an adventure-filled ride to be sure. The Mission was sunny but by the time we were in the Presidio winding our way toward the Golden Gate Bridge we were in thick fog. We got to see a piece by Andy Goldsworthy that Julie calls "The Spike" though its official name is "The Spire."

The bridge, which usually has one side dedicated to bikers and the other for pedestrians, had one side closed creating an uncomfortable forced integation of walkers and bikers on the bridge. Just when we got to the point where more people coming from the San Francisco side decided they had walked far enough, the people from the Marin side started appearing. It was pretty frustrating, to be honest, but I tried to remember that we were having fun.

Once across the bridge the sun started to reappear and we had a great time cruising through Sausalito. Then we missed a turn somewhere and rather than taking the scenic bike path along the water we rode for a bit on a highway trying not to breathe too much. This unintended shortcut cut off about 5 miles of the 20 mile trip, which was somewhat disappointing and probably the best decision we made all day.

We did manage to get back on the bike path and were cruising along again when Eric, in the lead, suddenly screeched to a halt. Wild blackberries. We dropped our bikes and braved the thorns and the bees for a few sun-warmed berries.

We arrived in Tiburon about 4:20 (yes, thank goodness for that shortcut!) and decided to reward ourselves with ice cream before heading over to the ferry. Ice cream in hand, we ambled over to the ferry only to discover that they limit the number of bikes that can go and it is all about getting in line early. We were the very last bikes on the boat. The people after us were very disappointed to learn that they had to wait for the 6:25 ferry and somehow cutting it that close made the boat ride feel extra special.

And now it is time to focus on the list of things we have to do before we leave in a week and a half.

Still can't quite believe it

Yesterday, on my way home from work, I cruised through a stop sign at an empty intersection to find myself moments later being aggressively pursued by a motorcycle cop, lights flashing and siren blaring. It did not take him long to catch up with me. At first I moved to the side of the road to give him plenty of room to pass and when he didn't pass me it occurred to me that perhaps I was what was of interest to him. I stopped my bike at the curb.

"I can't believe it," he started. "I was sitting there talking to that taxi driver who was complaining to me about bikes not following traffic laws and you just come blowing right through the intersection."

"Uhh," I responded. I wasn't sure what to say. I wanted to say "I don't like stopping when there's no one else at the intersection because then I have to pedal more to get going again" but that sounded lame. And I also wanted to say "I am dumbfounded that I have just been pulled over on my bicycle because that's incredibly stupid." But instead I just stood there mouth agape staring at him.

So I had to endure a stern lecture and more incredulous exclamations about what an idiot I must be to do what I just did.

At one point he even said, "Never in my 33 years as a police officer..." though I kind of wonder if he says that a lot.

"Do you ride critical mass?" he asked me at one point during the lengthy process of writing me a ticket which included me spelling "Connecticut" for him five times (he only had to write it down once).

"No," I told him.

"That's good," he said. "That puts bad ideas into people's heads."

After a while of standing there waiting for him to finally hand me this ridiculous ticket, I started to cry. I felt a little dumb about it but couldn't really help it. I was standing there crying when a nice-looking couple pulled up in an enormous RV.

"Excuse me office I know you're busy but could we ask you a question?" the nice lady in the passenger seat asked.

"You can ask her," he offered, indicating to me.

"Do you know where around here we can park a large RV?" she asked me.

"Sorry, I don't," I said, wiping my nose.

He wouldn't tell me how much the ticket was for (looks like it will be about $120) but he did reinforce several of his key themes as he finally handed me the ticket. As I got ready to bike away, a guy walked up to the cop.

"Officer, I'd like to thank you for doing this. Bikers are such a problem..." was all I heard before I rode down the block to the red light 20 feet away.

"Did that cop just give you a ticket on your bike?" another passerby asked me as I sat stopped at the light. I said yes.

"What a jerk*! As if there aren't real crimes in this city for him to be worrying about."

"Yeah," I agreed.


*He used a different word.

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Look at me - I wrote a blog for the Harvard Business Review.