I don't have an original photo for this particular post, but the story I'm about to tell you speaks for itself.  Yesterday, I was yakking away at Mac's swim practice with my pal, Melanie.  Mac, incidentally, was refusing to participate in swimming because of a "sore foot" - not the same foot he broke this spring - and was instead sitting on the side of the pool.  Still, I'm calling it a win because he was AT swim practice. I'm sure he learned about strokes by sitting next to the coach and supervising his friends and limping theatrically.

Anyway, Mel and I were chatting about this incredible book I'm reading called Department of Speculation.  It's so compact and lovely and different that I think I'm going to read it again immediately after I finish it.

All of a sudden, Melanie said, "I'm sorry.  I keep getting distracted by a long black hair that I think might be attached to your face."

"Oh my god," I said, picking frantically at my jaw line. "Sometimes they pop through!"

"I have one on the front of my chin that recurs," she said knowingly.  "I'm sorry to tell you."

"You're a true friend," I told her sincerely, and made a bee line for the locker room to wrest that interloper from it's follicle.

The moral of the story is: Friends don't let friends just hang out at the pool with beard hairs dangling for all to see.  Melanie knows this, and I'm super grateful.