Farfelle hanno comincato... (The butterflies have started...)

Two hours ago I was sitting in Brunetti's, Carlton, (very Italian,) sipping my soy latte (not very Italian,) and enjoying good company with mio amore Giuseppe, his parents Fernando and Teresa and my sister Lucia.
If you sit in the first, more restaurant-type left side of Brunetti's, (Oh I am so rusty with my word flow,) there are enlarged, beautiful black and white photos decorating the walls. One photo is of a man baking bread in the street, round crusty baked bread the size of car wheels. He is lifting one of the loaves on a giant shovel that you see being used in the wood-fire oven pizza restaurants. Another is of two elderly women straining freshly-cooked spagetti in an old-style kitchen. My gaze shifted back and forth between these images and the tranquil faces of Giuseppe's parents as I listened to their words and tried my best to understand them.
Tonight, it started. I thought it started a few days ago, but I can see now that was a false start. The realisation, that this time next month I will be LIVING in Italy has started to grow in my belly and the farfalle (butterflies) are beginning to flit about. Is flit a word? Who cares - I need to learn it in Italian before I start focusing too heavily on polishing my English. I'll ask Giuseppe... OK he said "I am not a butterflies expert" and then started listing five or more different ways I could say 'flit' or 'fly' about. Volare is 'to fly'. Like the song: VOLARE, O-OH! Ugh. Is flit a word? If anyone can help me out I'd appreciate it very much.