please, move your ash...

So, charming husband and I are living from suitcases – at home. This all started last Monday. I was at work and got an email from the chief spoiler, “We’re leaving for Prague Friday evening – is that okay?” Seriously, that’s what the email said. Okay? Heck yeah, it’s better than okay; it’s "heck yeah, I’m emailing my boss now" (who by the way, wants my life.) Here's a picture that Pete took last time he was in Prague:



Cool looking huh? After emailing my boss, (who called and asked if he could work for Pete,) I spent the week doing all the stuff you must do to leave for Prague by Friday. Cancel the mail (okay, so Pete did that, but I had to nag him about it, that counts right?), drop off the dry cleaning (which I forgot to pick up and had to run out for Thursday night), do all the laundry (seriously, I was running home at lunch to throw in a load of darks) make reservations for the dog, get my hair cut and colored (really, can’t go to Europe looking scruffy and rooty.) Get a pedicure….well actually, I didn’t get a pedicure right away, I did a touch up on the color figuring I needed to be dressy a couple of times for Pete’s work, cause really, this was a work trip. Now, we’re pretty much ready to go and have reservations out at 6:30 p.m. Friday. I went to work all set to leave early to do an airport cab. Pete dropped the dog at the kennel on the way to work.
Midmorning, the phone rings and it’s charming husband – our flight is cancelled because of the volcano in Iceland.

HUH? How often does a volcano interrupt your travel plans? Right? Mine either. But it’s okay, the company has booked us out on another flight the next morning. Another call comes later in the day (I’m working frantically trying to get next week’s work done this week cause, heck yeah, I’m going to Prague and I don’t like to leave a mess at work – cause I’m in Prague…) Saturday’s flight is cancelled. But wait, there’s good news, (what?) travel agent has booked us on an afternoon flight. Okay. But (says hubby) there’s a little problem. She couldn’t get us both seats on the same flight. WHAT? I’m flying to Europe (8 ½ hours) alone? Or rather, with hundreds of strangers who probably won’t like it if I fall asleep and maybe drool on them? But there’s good news insists Charming. Okay, what’s the good news? You’re flying first class! Oh YAY, I don’t care if hubby is beside me or not now, I’ve seen those cabins, those first class bitches get beds for Pete’s sake. So now, I’m really excited. I figure I need a real pedicure on the way home from work, cause I need first class toes now and we’re not flying out till the next day! I got a lovely French pedicure. (If you’re supposed to be on a plane of an evening, a pedicure chair is not a bad consolation prize.) I went home with my fancy toes and we spent the evening finishing our packing (cause of course we weren’t done, even though we left that morning with every expectation that we would be flying out that night…) There was no food in the house, because we weren't supposed to be there....so naturally we had to go out to eat, and what's out without a lovely bottle of wine, some spring rolls, chocolate dessert stuff...? yeah, even in the states, life is good. Prince C and I went home to get a decent night’s sleep – and I heard his phone ring at 2:45 a.m. (we didn’t even have to answer, it was an airline alert, my first class toes were staying here in Chicago with the rest of me.) Today is Sunday, the last day we’re likely to go is Monday – and that’s not looking terribly promising. Tomorrow I’m off to work with my dressy feet, wearing something that may not match exactly, cause my good clothes are still in the suit case - just in case.