International Jetsetter

GAH! Where has the week gone? How is it Thursday already?

I know I haven't been writing quite as much as usual. This is due, in part, to the fact that there is nuffin' much happening on the baby front. We may get some SA results for E. sometime next week, or we may not. We are a little confused how one goes about obtaining these, since the instructions for the test had big bold letters at the bottom in flashing neon saying: WE WILL NOT GIVE OUT RESULTS OVER THE TELEPHONE.

Well, OK, fair enough. But if we phone, will you tell us how to get the results? Or are we supposed to write to you to ask you to post us the results? Or fax them? Or will it be our special secret to share with our RE when we see him next? Oh, what a little mystery.

Another reason is that I am working quite long hours at the moment. This involves sitting at my desk in front of a computer, furrowing my brow and wracking my brains to come up with cogent, lucid and relevant material. I do this for an unbroken eight or nine hours a day, with a half hour for lunch, gulping some sustenance before returning to the salt mines. So you can probably understand why I haven't been exactly keen to come home to sit at my desk in front of the computer to wrack my brains to come up with witty & interesting posts.

Apart from the sheer brain strain, I find that the lower half of my body is perilously close to seizing up, or developing deep vein thrombosis. It's cold in the flat too, with the entirely inadequate heating system as found in most houses in this country, so every fifteen minutes or so I have to get up and run around to try to get the blood circulating. Which breaks the chain of thought.

Lastly, I have had lots of other scurrying around to do to get ready for my stint as an international jetsetter! I am really pleased at how my travel arrangements have worked out, even if it means a slightly insane schedule and needing about twenty five different types of clothing to accommodate all the different climates. This weekend, Amsterdam for E's birthday. Next weekend, Florida, to see my parents.

I think I may have already mentioned, I am something of an anxious traveler. I like to be at the airport six or seven hours early to board flights ( I jest, but not by much). I have a complicated handbag/carry-on arrangment and I always worry that somehow they won't let me on with both things, or try to make me check my carry-on. Since my handbag is invariably pushing my luck a bit, with something verging on a large tote stuffed to the gunnels with books, magazines and spare knickers. But there is no way I am parting with the carry-on either, which contains essentials such as larger presents, make-up, and clothes which I want to wear on the trip but worry will get lost if checked through. Did I mention there is a lot of worry involved together with luggage separation anxiety.

One of my travel nightmares nearly came true a few years ago. Coming home after Christmas, due to bad weather, we were routed through a different airport and made to stay overnight at a hotel before boarding an entirely different airline for the second leg home. This in itself would not have been a problem, except the airline seemed to think that our luggage, which we had checked at the start, should be sent on ahead on a DIFFERENT plane.

We tried to explain that really, this was inadvisable, since our bags would arrive about 12 hours ahead of us. Where said bags would go round and round on the carousel, uncollected. Until somebody decided to walk off with our stuff. Our bags, full of special Christmas pressies and goodies.

This was pre 9/11. Where the airlines still thought it was somehow sane to load up planes with bags with no passenger on board.

It took some serious cajoling to reunite us with our luggage. Shooting my best laser beam death ray eyes, I think I may have threatened, or um, volunteered to go into the holding bin or whatever to physically remove our items. To this day, E. refers to my encounter with the customer service representative in tones of hushed awe.

Also, it can be tricky to remember which passport to use when. And not get stopped, as I did several years ago, by the evil airline security for having the audacity to travel to a certain destination on a completely valid, yet somehow nonetheless "wrong" passport. I mean, really. Cut us international jetsetters/dual citizen types some slack, willya?!

I'll be back early next week, no doubt with lots of riotous stories to tell about our visit to Amsterdam. Even though we are very boring, and would certainly never engage in the kind of debauchery that apparently goes on there. Debauchery, us? Of course not. How could you think such a...well, I did hear a rumour there was a museum with a gigantic chair shaped like a penis. We might have to check that out.

I mean, it is a museum, after all. Culch-chure.