Yesterday, a good friend of mine (the same one who insisted that I get a running skirt if when I move to New York) left a book for me, along with a note that enthusiastically cheered my anticipated relocation to Manhattan.

The book, New York Detail: A Treasury of Ornamental Splendor, is essentially a picture book. Photographs of architectural details cover the pages. It’s lovely. I’ve overlooked many of these details when I’ve been in New York City in the past. There’s just way too much to see in that city.

I received the official offer for a fellowship position in consult-liaison psychiatry from my first choice today.

It was nice. And a relief.

My friends here in Seattle were all abuzz with excitement—I’ve never received so many e-mails with so many exclamation marks per e-mail in my life. My friends are an enthusiastic, warm, and buoyant bunch. They’re wonderful.

And though I am absolutely tickled to be heading to New York City, I am also sad that I will be leaving my friends in the Pacific Northwest. (… though, admittedly, many of them have already invited themselves to stay with me in New York City. Funny how that happens. “Do you want to sleep in my closet or out on the fire escape?”)

… and, of course, I haven’t left yet.

There’s a lot to do between now and then:

• Just how does one move across the country?
• Should I drive my car to New York City? I’ve always wanted to take a transcontinental road trip. Man, I can’t wait to get rid of my car.
• How much stuff can I sell or give away here before I go?
• I have to pay a hefty sum to get my medical license for New York State.
• I am dreading looking for a place to live in New York City. It seems like a highly aversive process.
• June is going to be a crazy busy month: I’ve got to take my psychiatry board exams, make arrangements for graduation, and move across the country. What am I getting myself into?

On the door of my office is a map of New York City. In October, a friend and I were discussing the different programs in the city. I was scanning the map to point out my top choices for programs.

“Why haven’t you put push pins onto the map?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I figured they wouldn’t stay?”

He laughed at me. “Here—give me some pins. Show me where your first choice is.”

I quickly pointed out the site.

“What color should the pin be?” he asked. I dug through the pin container and found a green pin.

Green is for growth, I thought. I didn’t even come up with that—that’s something a guy I went to medical school with once said. It’s stuck, for whatever reason.

I handed the pin to my friend.

“Green is for ‘go’,” he said as he firmly pushed the pin into the map. “Okay, where’s choice number two?”

He pushed the yellow pin in.

“I see that we are following the ‘traffic light’ model of ranking,” he joked. “And number three?”

I waffled. There were two programs that tied for third. I hesitated before pointing out the location with a clear pin. (I didn’t have a red pin.)

We both then stood back and looked at the map.

“Wow. That green pin really sticks out,” he remarked. “It’s very clear now where you want to go. The yellow pin is less obvious and that clear pin—you can hardly even see it.”

Tomorrow, I shall remove the yellow and clear pins.

Green is now definitely for “go”.