Dear Diary,

I've been sitting in bed with my laptop since 6:45 a.m., just going to read my email and check the weather REAL QUICK before going on my run. It's now 7:37 a.m. and I'm still here. Wah. Sometimes getting out of the freaking bed is so hard to do.

Per my "training plan," Sunday is my "long" run day. Long for me being an earth-shattering five miles so far. But the distance only increases every other week, so today my "long" run is only three miles. I can do three miles. I can do three miles easily. Why am I still in bed? The sun is even out already (it's 7:42) and it looks like it's going to be a gorgeous day.

Carlie had her last soccer game yesterday, which was also a gorgeous day. Miracle of all miracles, THEY TIED! This is the first game they have not lost this entire season. They tied 2 to 2 and really they had a third goal, but it was called off-sides, which, please, the girls are 9 years old and don't really understand off-sides. This is the first year that they actually call it, and half the refs have and half haven't and they haven't worked on that in practice, so the girls have no idea why they didn't get that third goal, but whatever, THEY TIED and they were so happy. It was a great way to end the season.

The only thing that could have made it better would have been if the coach had just handed them their damned trophies right then and there and we could be done with it. But, no, we are now having an awards night/pizza party. The end of season pizza party is one of the most dreaded nights in my life. I may have said this before, but I really can't handle being around other people's kids for long stretches, especially when they're jacked up on rootbeer and trophy receiving endorphins. But whatever, I can do ANYTHING for two hours, right?

I was supposed to be at a fabulous brunch this morning for a birthday celebration of one of my favorite people and best friends. But sadly she is sick as an effing dog on her birthday weekend, so we're going to push it back a week. But funny story about making the reservation. A friend called up and made the brunch reservation. The hostess asked, "Is this a special occasion?" and friend K responded, "Yes, it's a 50th birthday party."

And the hostess, who was probably about 11 years old, said, "Wow! That's great! A 50th birthday!" enthusiastically, and then in a quieter voice, "Will stairs be an issue?"

Hello? I am 42 and if stairs are an issue by the time I turn 50, please put me down gently now.

Because 50? Yeah, it ain't as old as I used to think it was when I was 20-something. Of course, I also remember thinking that 40 was ancient. Like blue-hair use-a-walker don't-forget-your-oxygen ancient. Then my husband and my girlfriends threw me a raging 40th birthday party complete with a BAND in my LIVING ROOM and inappropriate dancing and oyster shooters and flaming shot drinks all night long and, hello 40! Apparently 40 is the new 17, where you drink till you puke and call it a good time! Yay! Best Night Ever.

Plan for today is go for a run. Soak in the tub (my new Sunday ritual). Do laundry. Go to the Doc Marten's Warehouse sale again and buy myself a pair of black Mary Janes. I bought a pair yesterday but gave them to a friend last night because they are so cute and looked really cute on her feet and I knew I'd be going back today anyway. I bought myself so far a pair of maroonish MJs and a beige T strap wedge which is super cute but a half-size too big. Don't know if I'm actually going to be able to wear them in real life, but they are cute cute cute. So today I want black Mary Janes, maybe a pair of boots and sandals if I can find any. Yesterday I saw no cute sandals. I'll try to remember to snap some pictures of the mayhem of the sale, but yesterday I was so caught up in contributing to the mayhem with my frantic digging through boxes of shoes that taking a photo was the last thing on my mind.

Also? I'm trying to think of a clever name for a local co-op type blog, but I've got nothing. Some already in existence are : New Jersey Moms Blog, Chicago Moms Blog, San Diego Blog Bitches. I know we can come up with something catchier than "Vancouver Moms Blog" or "Washington Moms Blog," and by "we" I mean someone who is not me, because apparently I can't come up with jack.

Going for that run now. It's 7:57. Oh, and crap, and I need a title for this post. That could keep me here for another five minutes. How about "random shit"?