Fancy Flies Again!

My name is Fancy. And I’m a recovering Absentee Blogger.

Thank you for your kind words. It’s only now that I realize many of you have actually been sitting by your computer, brows furrowed, palms sweating, wondering if, could it be possible, had Frau Fancy actually been done in by a set of yellow curtains?

No, no I’ll fill you all in on what’s going on there—oh hello neighbours, nice to see you, do you like my bra choice today?-- but first let me tell you about the birthday party we raced off to, a mere 21 hours after returning from a transatlantic flight with toddlers. Because that’s they way my Fancy self lives. Actually, the party can come later. It’s the transportation that I’m focused on. In other words, has H learned his lesson from our summer of Cheap Ass Air?

He called me from work. “I booked your tickets for OldFriend’s birthday party. You arrive at noon and can go right to the hotel.”

“I want to fly up front,” I answered. “Upgrade me. If you didn’t already.” I told him. “You have 1 million miles. Don’t be an ass.”

“One million and five, if we are to be precise,” he countered. “But don’t’ be a princess. It’s only an hour flight.”

 “Um, excuse me, 2 hours if you count boarding and deplaning.” Fancy here corrected. “And is there any chance that you’ll be on either my outbound or return flight?” I inquired. Since we all know where he will be sitting. And the secret to a happy Fancy marriage is to never, ever have a couple separated by a curtain on an airplane.

Silence. Dial tone.

You can teach an old dog, it turns out.

And that is why on our return home I was driven across the tarmac to the plane in a limo. “Just try to keep a straight face and tell me how much this sucks for you,” I said, as he struggled in vain to avoid eye contact. I wiped the crumbs from his crème brulee crust off his shirt. “I mean I realize it’s not always fun to spend night after night on a plane. But being escorted through passport control and directly to your jet way, well that is a little cool, ain’t it?”

The man could not look me in the eye.    

“And just so you know, these little perks, like waiting in the First Class lounge, drinking fine wines and nibbling on sushi, well, they go a long, long way to forgiving your little indiscretions.”

“What?! What indiscretions,” he cried, smile almost wiped from his smug face.

“Like the fact that you’ve invited your parents to stay all next week and yet you are leaving for a Very Important Meeting tomorrow and won’t be home before they leave. Spending 50,000 miles to make your wife feel attended to, well that goes a long way, dude.”

It’s a major improvement, don’t you agree?

Fancy Time Management

Hi. My name is Frau Fancy. And it has been 44 days since my last blog entry.

I suck.

I was busy okay? And then I kept thinking, oh tomorrow I'll go see what's happening out there in Bloggy Land. But then tomorrow would come and it was 4pm before I saw a computer and Fancy here thought, oh jeez, tomorrow for sure.

And 43 days went by.

What could possibly have taken so long? Well, I'll tell you.

Firstly, I decided to take the Minis for 3 weeks to visit family in the States. What? No, don’t be ridiculous. We did not fly Cheap Ass Anything. In fact, the best line from that trip was something like:

“Fancy, may I call you Fancy? The Minis seem to be snoring quietly in Economy Plus while your Nanny is watching a movie. Can I get you another glass of champagne?”

Yes, I was that mother on this trip. But c’mon. I had 2 free upgrades. They were only for Economy Plus. And I need to keep my tier points. Anyhoo.

Once we got home, I let Nanny #1 do the time change thing while I caught up with old friends. Once the kids were sorted, I flew her back to London for 10 days because frankly, I didn’t need any of that Grandma-Nanny drama. Don’t you agree?

Of course that meant I had no Nanny. And we all know how much better hired help is than the volunteer kind. Hence my silence.

Finally, we enjoyed a quiet trip back, pram safely tucked into the First Class closet, Fancy here watching a movie while the Minis slept the whole way home. Next to Nanny #1. Because we flew her back to the States to pick us up.

Yes, Fancy here is nothing if not well-prepared.

Once we touched down, I let Nanny #1 stuff us into a taxi before heading home for a day of well-deserved rest. Babysitter #1 met us at the door, beside herself with excitement about seeing the girls. And then I spent the day unpacking. That’s a lie. I caught up on household bills and mail while Fancy PA unpacked me. And the repacked me. Because 21 hours later I was flying to the Continent. For a birthday party.

Hey, why not?

And so ends my month of “no time to blog.” 

I, Fancy, will try to manage my time better. Apologies. Perhaps I should hire a Fancy Blog Prodder?

Fancy Confusion

Sometimes I wonder, is it me or is it them? I mean, am I the one off my rocker or is it me against the world? Or at least me against the world of home decorating.

Remember my curtains? The ones that were wrong in every way possible? Well, much to my surprise, even though they were almost immediately ripped from the ceiling and returned to the factory, my decorator actually expects me to pay for them.

Yes, something like four thousand pounds and change for what amounts to holes in my walls and extreme intimacy with my neighbours.

Seriously? I am supposed to pay for curtains that no longer exist?

Apparently it's not her fault that they were yellow. No, that was the sunlight. She couldn't have predicted this.

"But I saw them in the evening, after the sun had gone down," was my answer.

"Well, then it is the way artificial light hits them," she reasoned.

"Um, could it be, I don't know, if they are yellow in the sunlight and they are yellow in artificial light, well, could it be that they are actually fucking yellow?"

So, what do you think? Is it me?