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Well, now things are a little different. CCB is working in Detroit and staying in a posh hotel which, for all its amenities, surprisingly does not have DVRs. His DVR at home is recording all of his favorite shows, but he only gets back to watch them every other weekend. Kind of sucks for keeping up with all of our shows. I have had to learn how to watch 30 Rock and The Office on my own which is okay, mind you, but not half as fun as listening to CCB’s laughter on the other end of the line. The alternative is to save those shows on my DVR until CCB comes out to visit, but that sucks because I only get to watch my shows every other weekend. Plus, instead of doing something fun while he’s here, we seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in front of the TV. So, not really an option, either. But either way, it’s seems to work out. See, watching 30 Rock and The Office by myself is fine, because I don’t have a problem following the shows. I remember who the characters are, what their storylines are. I don’t need CCB to clarify things for me. But tonight, I’m gonna need CCB’s insight because LOST finally returns.

People, I love this show. I love the characters. I love the storylines. I just don’t always UNDERSTAND the storylines. That’s why it’s important for me to watch the show with CCB. Because HE understands it, and doesn’t seem to mind when I ask him a thousand times, “So wait… isn’t he supposed to be dead? Who is THAT guy? Wasn’t he the one who visited Hurley in the mental institution??” CCB patiently answers all of my questions and helps me understand WHY THE HELL I just saw what I just saw.

So I don’t know how tonight is going to play out. Either I’ll keep the show on my DVR and be careful not to read any reviews about it tomorrow, or I’ll cave and watch it solo. In either case, CCB damn well better choose the same option. Because if I keep this episode on my DVR until next weekend and then find out he’s been watching it “live” in his hotel room, we’re going to have words, my friends. And one of those words may very well be “ASS”. Just saying.

(Photo courtesy of E Online)

I managed to wake up on time this morning, which was a miracle. I was able to both round-brush Lauren’s hair AND feed her a hot breakfast. Score! The day was looking promising! When I returned from driving her to school, I made the Breakfast of Champions (well, only if you’re an aging champion… otherwise, a daily bowl of Fiber One Honey Clusters may not fit the bill for you) and settled in to watch THE INAUGURATION in all it’s High-Definition glory. It was awesome, but you don’t need me to tell you that. You were probably watching as well. And if so, was I the only one who was disturbed by some of ABC’s camera angles? Did we really need to film the Obamas through the bulletproof glass which made them look like they were standing in front of a Fun House mirror?

Anyhoo, maybe it was the excitement of the morning. Maybe it was because I blew my entire energy stash on blow-drying my kid’s hair and had nothing left over for my workout. Maybe it was because I’ve freaking worn myself out over the past few weeks and I only have ONE MORE DAY until I have to go back to work again. Whatever the reason, when the screen flipped from President Obama to George Stephanopoulos, I turned off the TV and climbed into bed for a nap. And slept for three glorious indulgent hours.

When I woke up, I came onto the computer and checked email and cleared my Google Reader. And now that Lauren is home from school, I’m going to go help her with her homework, make dinner, clean up the kitchen afterward, and then settle in on the couch for American Idol. And that’s it! Don’t call me on the telephone, don’t expect me to answer your emails. The computer is off, and I am done for the night. I am apathetic, and I’m okay with that.

Take a good look, people. This is the Face of Lazy.

But last night as I was making dinner, I was half-listening to the evening news (I often use my TV as background noise when I’m cooking) and heard the transcript of the communication between the aircraft and the tower. I stopped what I was doing and just listened. And then, I was overcome with emotion. Lauren saw me and became concerned, “What’s wrong, Mom?” It took me a minute to understand why I was so moved by this story. I mean, I don’t normally become overwhelmed when I listen to the evening news, even when it’s tragic. I’m not callous by any means, but it’s become rather common-place to hear about plane crashes and other such events. So why did this affect me so much?

I have one of those jobs where sometimes, miracles happen in the course of a normal day. When I first became a nurse, every time I walked on the floor, I would worry that that day would be “The Day” when something would go wrong, and would I be ready to handle it? I was stressed and fearful all the time. But after a few dozen of “Those Days”, I realized that when something bad happened, I would be ready to handle it. When an emergency presents itself, I experience the strangest dichotomy of emotions. I am clear and present and calm, while at the very same time, my heart is pounding like a drum and my nerves are on edge. It’s the adrenaline effect, I realize. But even in the midst of what would normally feel like a panic attack, my mind is sharp and I know what to do. And I am calm enough to be able to do it.

But when one of those situations happens and I get the job done, I am so often met with praise at the end. People have called me a hero, and I always feel uncomfortable with that. I always say, “I’m not a hero. I was just doing my job.” And indeed I was. But I suppose there is something to be said for keeping a cool head in the midst of chaos. For knowing what needs to be done and doing it. For saving lives.

When I read the transcript of the communication between Flight 1549 and the tower, I hear that calm. I hear that voice that says, “I know what to do and I’m going to do it.” I hear heroism.

The Captain, Chesley B. Sullenberger III, and the First Officer, Jeffrey B. Skiles, saw the birds in their windscreen. Captain Sullenberger’s first reaction, even, was to duck. In that split second, I am certain that they knew. And when they heard the thud and the engines became silent, they knew.

And then they acted.

Captain Sullenberger declared, “My aircraft,” and Mr. Skiles gave his acknowledgment, “Your aircraft.” In our hospital during a Code Blue, the highest-ranking physician in the room makes this sort of declaration, too: “My code.” I’m in charge. This one is MY responsibility. And Captain Sullenberger declared it without a moment’s hesitation. That is heroism.

They tried to restart the engines but they hadn’t reached an altitude that allowed them enough time to complete the checklist. They were “too low, too slow,” and they knew they were running out of time. Could they make it across the Hudson to Teterboro Airport? They determined that without enough altitude and engine thrust, they were running the risk of crashing into a populated area, which would have been disastrous.

In the last communication from the plane, someone, probably Skiles, told the tower: “We can’t do it. We’re gonna end up in the Hudson.” And with that, Captain Sullenberger and Mr. Skiles put that giant aircraft, full of fuel, down into the Hudson River as gently as humanly possible. Watch this video and see for yourself:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZpUPvoPmDw&eurl=http://punditkitchen.com/2009/01/17/us-airways-1549-crash-video/&feature=player_embedded]

But Captain Sullenberger and Mr. Skiles were not the only heroes that day. There were three seasoned flight attendants on board: Sheila Dail, Doreen Welsh, and Donna Dent. Each of them had over 25 years of experience with US Airways. And these remarkable women, within 30 seconds of impact, started evacuating the passengers out onto the wings of the plane. Despite their own quite serious injuries, they acted. That is heroism.

There were the commuter ferries and private vessels who responded within 5 minutes to the crash site and began to pluck passengers out of the frigid waters. The captains, crews and commuter passengers on those vessels did not hesitate to rush to the scene and do what they could to help. That is heroism.

The emotion that I felt when I listened to the news was partly because I can understand – to some small degree – how the people involved must have felt. That moment where, regardless of your own situation, you just step into action and do what you’ve been trained to do. Are they heroes? Oh absolutely, they are. But I’m sure each and every one of them would deny it. That is heroism.

So what did I do yesterday that was so darn exciting? For starters, I woke up at 5:00 am and hauled my happy ass into the hospital for a 12-hour shift. It was a busy day and if I had been a smarter woman, I would have headed home after my shift for a long soak in a bubble bath and called it a day. But because I seem to think that I’m 21 years old, I decided to join some friends of mine for celebrity-sighting in Park City.

For those of you who aren’t local, Park City is nestled in the mountains above Salt Lake City and is approximately a 45-minute drive from my house. And this time every year, it becomes home to the Sundance Film Festival, which lures all sorts of celebrities here. The heart of Park City is historic Main Street, and let’s just say it’s not very big. So when you add dozens of celebrities and hundreds of people trying to catch a glimpse of them… well, it’s a bit chaotic, to say the least. But my friends and I thought it would be fun to mingle with the beautiful people and see what we could see. So what did we see? What did we do?? Here’s the recap:

1. We discovered that even though it may have been smart to dress somewhat light in anticipation that it would be crowded, sweaty and warm in whatever club we ended up in, what we should have considered is that we would spend SEVERAL minutes standing outside and freezing our kahunas off. Thankfully, there was some sort of vent on the side of a building that intermittently spewed out a warm breeze and made it tolerable for a few moments.

2. We discovered that every club, jewelry store and art gallery on Main Street had been converted into a PRIVATE party, and being that we are not rich, famous OR well-connected, we weren’t welcome to crash said parties. That meant that the only thing open to losers like us were the restaurants.

3. We discovered that the celebrities were not frequenting the restaurants, but rather, the private parties that we were not invited to (see #2).

4. We discovered that the restaurants will not be happy if you take up a big table and only order appetizers and drinks.

5. We discovered that lesbians are aggressive and will discuss deviant sexual behavior RIGHT THERE AT THE TABLE. We also discovered that if you don’t know what they are talking about when they discuss this deviant behavior, it’s best to just act like you do. Because if you ask, they will tell you. IN GREAT DETAIL.

6. We discovered that talking about your boyfriend and how much you love him will not stop a lesbian from groping you when she says goodbye to you.

7. We also discovered that seeing this guy does not qualify as “celebrity-sighting” and will leave you quite disappointed:

Whereas, running into THIS guy will make up for it, because he’s the Big Daddy of Sundance:

8. But most importantly, we discovered that the best way to end a hectic, miserable day at work is to spend it with good friends and lots of laughter.

(Photos snagged from here and here.)

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3HaMI_nQI8]

We’ve been struggling with mornings at our house ever since I let her stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve. She hasn’t been ready for bed at the usual time, and I suspect she’s been staying awake long after I turn out her lights and close her door. As a result, the morning comes too soon. Although she’s never grumpy in the morning (I know!! Whose kid is this anyway!?!?) she has been a wee bit sluggish and it takes a lot of nagging effort from me to get her moving so we’re not late.

One of the biggest time-sucks of our morning is her stinking private-school uniform. This thing is like a torture device. The tie must be placed on the blouse BEFORE the jumper, or the tie will not lie correctly and will be bunchy. Then once the jumper is on, the sailor collar of the blouse must be pulled out and adjusted. Then the sweater goes on, and the sailor collar is once again pulled out and adjusted. It’s a pain in the butt, and Lauren insists on doing it herself. It takes her 20 minutes to get dressed, and I still have to adjust everything once she’s done. So needless to say, by the time she gets dressed, I am nearly out of patience. Correction: I am TOTALLY out of patience.

So this morning, when I was trying to get Lauren in her coat and out the door, she kept begging me to let her bring her American Girl doll that she had dressed in a matching private-school uniform. They are allowed to bring these sorts of things to school on “Share Day”, so that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that we were already 5 minutes late. If I allowed her to go back to her bedroom for even one thing, it would take her 5 more minutes because she would undoubtedly get sidetracked by something shiny. I refused to let her get the doll, but the whining, ohmyholyhell the whining. So finally I gave in and told her, “You have until the count of ten to get your doll and get back here!” Boy howdy, you should have seen her run! She made it back around the time I said “Eight” and I noticed that she had left the doll’s stand attached to her.

I should interject at this point and tell you that I also have a really bad habit when it comes to Lauren. I rarely listen to her. Like, I hear her voice droning on in the background, but I often have no idea — and no interest — in what she’s saying. That sounds horrible, but it’s a common thing, right? I’m not the worst parent on earth, I’m sure. Anyway, when she came back with the doll, she was speaking… I knew there was speaking… but I wasn’t listening. It wasn’t until I reached out and began to rip the doll from the stand (did I mention we were IN A HURRY?) that I caught what she was saying.

“…bring the stand so she can stand on my desk… OORRR, not.”

Crap.

So I did what I wish my Mom would have done more often when I was a kid. I apologized to her. I apologized for being in a hurry and rushing her, for not listening to her, and for being rude and grabbing the doll out of her hand. Then I carefully put the stand back on and helped her manipulate the doll into her backpack.

We were later than I would have liked, but she still made it to school before the first bell. And if we hadn’t, it still would have been okay. Because all that matters is that Lauren knows that SHE matters.

So Mom made me mad last night because I told her that Lauren was selling Girl Scout Cookies next week and she said, “Oh, I love Girl Scout cookies! I called the local council to see if there were any girls in our neighborhood that were selling them!” And I said, “Well, Mom… Lauren’s selling them!” and she said, “Yeah, that will be fun for her. So the Girl Scout council never called me back, so now I don’t know how I’m going to get any cookies.”

Ok, if I have to be totally obvious and ASK YOU TO BUY COOKIES FROM YOUR OWN GRANDDAUGHTER, I give up. I mean, it’s not like we don’t have a whole “Utah-to-Ohio mule” in place with CCB’s travels back and forth from here to Detroit. He’s taking Christmas presents to them and bringing Christmas presents back to my sister. So is it totally out of the realm of possibility that CCB might be willing to transport a few boxes of Girl Scout cookies back to my Mom? I suppose it never occurred to her, but that’s kind of the point. She doesn’t think about us much. None of her daughters and grandchildren live within 5 hours of her (again, see the paragraph above that references our difficult childhoods) and instead of finding ways to be interested in her grandkids, she just sort of considers them an afterthought.

I will tell you this: as much as my ex-mother-in-law hates me, and even though my relationship with my ex is very strained right now, I bet that as Lauren’s adoring Grammy, she will buy a freaking case and pay for it to be shipped to her. Because Lauren is a priority to her, no matter what.

So I’m trying to figure out a way to tactfully ask my Mom to do what every Grandmother would and buy a few boxes of cookies from her Granddaughter instead of buying them from a total stranger. And I can’t find a way to do it without seeming needy. Any suggestions?

2. I was running late for work today and got a speeding ticket for going 52 in a 45 mph zone. Like THAT was even remotely necessary.

3. I was in such a hurry today that I didn’t do my hair and had to spend the day cloaked with the knowledge that my hair looked like crap. And despite what Kim will say (bless her heart), it totally DID look like crap.

4. I was carrying my lunch on a tray from the cafeteria to our break room when the tray became unbalanced and my drink crashed to the floor. Luckily, it didn’t spill all over my veggie burger, but it did make a huge mess that needed to be cleaned up.

5. And worst of all… CCB and I miscalculated and he spent this weekend in my house while I worked 12-hour shifts the entire time he was here. And today, I had to deal with the thought that he was flying home despite the fact that we had spent a grand total of 4 hours together all weekend.

This coming weekend, I’m going to go to Park City with some girlfriends to gawk at celebrities and act like idiots. It will surely be better than the weekend I just concluded. I hope.

So imagine my surprise when I got an email update today from the Black Cab Sessions. Their latest installment is none other than CCB’s favorite artist, Ryan Adams. I’ll admit that I didn’t know him until CCB introduced him to me several years ago, but I am nonetheless in awe of his talent.

I can’t embed the video here, so you’ll have to trust me and follow this link to the Black Cab Sessions website. The song is “Sink Ships” from the “Cardinology” album by Ryan Adams & The Cardinals. It is quite simply one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard. Period.