Thursday, July 17, 2008

Too Sexy for My Sunburn

Embarrassing moment #1 Not in my entire life, just since this blog started, and that’s only if you don’t count the fact that I admitted my new affection for Over the past weekend, my friends Paisley and Nicole accompanied me to the amazing and wonderful Callaway Gardens. It was Nicole’s inaugural visit, so I originally planned to ride the paddleboats and see the circus and visit the chapel, the Sibley Center, the Butterfly Center…you see where this is headed. But we decided to stay on Robin’s Lake Beach. Which, by the way, was missing both the ferry and the little train, a matter I fully intend to investigate. What’s a trip to the Gardens without riding around the woods on a train? I can’t count box turtles without it!

This whole tangent made no sense to anyone who didn’t grow up in this area, and I am sorry for the confusion. And for your loss, by the way. Because if a child can’t grow up counting box turtles from a kid-sized train hurtling through the Georgia pine forest, what good is being a kid?

Y’all just don’t know - the beach was wonderful. I am the whitest woman in at least the state of Georgia if you don’t count actual albinos, so I loaded up on the sunscreen. We had a fabulous day. Lay out for a while, go swim out past where the kids were to lower the odds that we were swimming in baby pee (Thank you, Paisley for bringing that subject up.), then go let the sun dry you off. It was perfect, and the snack bar was serving up some pretty delicious chicken fingers! Chicken fingers are always an important part of the equation. And the sweet tea was stellar.

Somehow in all of this lazy day, I neglected to reapply the ol’ SPF to my upper back. Later that night, I was putting out close to enough heat to toast a Pop-Tart. I tried the aloe thing, the lotion thing, and I was all set to try the vinegar thing but that’s just no fun for anyone that has to be around you.

This morning the peeling started in earnest. I’m not trying to be offensive or anything, but it’s pretty gross. You know those snake skins your science teacher would keep on a shelf in her classroom? I feel like that snake. So this morning I was itching terribly, but my office looks like a goldfish bowl. It’s just not the best place to contort the body so that you’re able to scratch that little spot just under your shoulderblade yet above your bra strap. That little spot that you can almost get your hand on, but just not quite. And it was driving me nuts. Nothing would work. Not a pen, not my fingertips, not the corner of a file folder. And then it struck me – my boss likes to use this fun little machine (This might not be a big deal to you but I had never seen one until I started working here.) that makes little books with those round binders. Sweet, bendy, binders. Let me tell you, if you have an itch, those things will scratch it. So my poor, peeling, sunburned self is pushed into a corner where nobody can see me with a bendy book binder down the back of my shirt, scratching like fire…..when I hear a “Hello?”

I love the Todd and all, but there was the cutest little real estate agent standing there, looking at me like I was the world’s biggest freak. I mean, he totally busted me, and he was so polite, which meant that of course he had seen the whole thing and was just too nice to mention it. So I was totally humiliated, and too freaked out to use my wonder-binder for the rest of the day.

Case in point: if Callaway Gardens still had a train, I would have been in the SHADE, not gotten a sunburn, and then not been caught with a book binder hooked under the back of my bra.

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