Today Jon is running the Super Spartan race with the menfolk connected to some of my college buddies.

His facebook post about it has a link to the eight-plus-mile obstacle race, which may include mud pits, electrified wire and running up hills with buckets of rocks, with the sentence, "This promises to be the dumbest thing I do all year."

To which one of the other guys responded, "You underestimate yourself... You'll do plenty of other dumb stuff. I'm more likely to be hospital bound than you on this one."

It's so flipping hot I can't help but worry someone really might end up needing medical attention. Especially because in the last two months, Jon hasn't been to the gym, and only ran ONCE for three miles. 

But he looks really happy in the picture, so there's that. 

I am on call all weekend, so I figure I may as well go into work and try to catch up on all the crap I did that got erased this past week because of a system upgrade that wiped our test environments. And yet I am still sitting on the couch reading blogs.

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Yesterday I met up with pp and had a lovely brunch/haircut date. This concept is genius because:

a) I get to hang with pp
b) I get a really sweet haircut
c) I get to try new places to eat in the city
d) The stylist starts the color on pp, does my trim while her hair is "processing," and the whole time we're all shooting the breeze like the do at the salons in movies.
e) My hair looks way more amazing when I leave than anytime I try to do it myself.

Of course, it's not ideal when I'm on call and my phone rings while the stylist is washing my hair. But it was fine.

pp seems to think that because she was a little hung over she wasn't a great date. She doesn't realize that just being in the company of someone who wanted to murder you for hitting snooze for almost five years and manages to loves you ANYWAY is a gift in and of itself. I was in a similar state, having been numbed up at the dentist and failing at chewing. Still a good time.

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Last night we went to ri and c's house for pizza and booze. Jon was hydrating and carbo-loading--hell, it's the absolute least he could do to prepare for the race today. Highcon facetimed us. They ordered a pizza. C and I proceeded to split like three bottles of wine and we watched their little angel, Ari, toddle around like a champ. Then ri went up to put the baby to bed and accidentally fell asleep. And then I lay down on the couch and accidentally fell asleep. C and Jon talked about electronics and mortgage rates. We never got to the gelato that Jon and I brought. Nobody was mad about all the falling asleep because we've known each other for a quarter of a century and it's all good.

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I started writing this post thinking everyone is annoyed with me being Debbie Downer the last several posts and trying to post something light and more "normal." But then I read this. If she hadn't turned off comments, I would have told her I feel the same way.

Yes, I think about my daughter minimum 20 times a day and will probably do so for a really really long time. I will probably mention it from time to time. But that doesn't mean I'm not happy for the girl in the office and want to go to her baby shower. Or have a really fun time chasing Ari around the dining room table. People don't have to feel weird. It's ok to talk about. Or not. The more important thing is to spend time together. Even if it entails chomping on the side of your cheek trying not to drool Hollandaise sauce or falling asleep in the middle of a conversation about speaker wire. 

I sincerely hope I will take the time to reach out when someone I care about is sad.