Remember those times I said I was comfortable in my own skin? This week, that is categorically, literally NOT TRUE. That trip to the beach Sunday was a whole lot of fun, spiritually renewing, and good for a ton of excellent photographs. But we overstayed our welcome, and even with me re-applying sunscreen halfway through the day, I burned the snot out of myself. Every other trip to the beach has seen me spend hours submerged in that nearly opaque water, not needing any sunscreen on my legs from the thighs down. It wasn't safe to swim this end of the beach, where the tidal river flows with a dangerous current, so my feet were exposed to far more sun than they were prepared for. The tops of my feet are so red, and the skin is stretched so tightly, I can't stand myself. Every time I shift in my seat, the skin around my knees (especially behind them) shrieks in surprise. How is this getting worse two days after the sun exposure? I'm wondering whether this will continue down this trajectory, and will blisters appear by tomorrow or the next day? How many more days before I feel okay in actual clothes?
Our second big cross country move (several years ago) happened in a bit of a panic. We knew we would need to be moving on short notice, but we were still developing that whole "packing and hitting the road efficiently and quickly" skill set. We had yet to lighten our load, and we had to learn not to hoard things that weren't really important to us. I was still carrying around huge boxes full of fabrics left over from the costume design company we had disbanded six years earlier. One night before that panicked move, the man and I stood in the back yard of our North Carolina house, standing over a 55 gallon drum, burning fabric remnants that weren't good enough to donate, give to friends, or keep for future use. We probably went through two big boxes' worth that night. My partner and I split up the company in 1995, and I swear on my mother's life, I still have a few pieces of that fabric left.
The man asked me to take my camera outside this evening, to witness as he took another swing at starting a fire with just one match. This time it worked. Boy, did it work. Within a few minutes, we were all moving back five or six feet from the roaring fire, and it was still too hot to stay out there very long. We accomplished what we needed to do in that short time. We reduced more pieces of the smashed trashcan fence to ashes, and we completely obliterated some old documents that we had already shredded. They weren't national security secrets or anything, just a few years-old mortgage statements and prescription receipts. Junk you don't want to move, don't want to throw in the garbage. Plus, it was fun to watch it burn.
No comments:
Post a Comment