I went with John to Virginia Beach for the day yesterday. I came armed with SPF 15, 30, and 85+. There was no way I was going to get burned even though I wanted to stay out all day and enjoy the perfect weather. Turns out 85+ isn't as strong as you might think it is.
We got there around 10:00am and immediately went onto the beach, lathered our suntan lotion on (85+ on my face and arms, 30 on everything else) and promptly passed out to catch up on sleep missed throughout the week and the fact that we both woke up at 7 to get to the beach early and beat some traffic. After a couple hours, like a good little girl, I reapplied.
After a nice beach walk and a short dip in the ocean, we decided to grab some lunch. The pizzeria we went to (its name was Pi but it was just the symbol) kind of took forever, but it ended up working out because we were inside from 1 to 2:30, a good time to be out of the sun. After hydrating and slathering on more suntan lotion, it was back onto the beach for some more beach sleep (and eavesdropping on the drunk assholes next to us talking loudly about how they've all dumped their fiancees and pawned the rings).
That's when I noticed the first burn. Apparently I forgot to put the lotion up my thighs high enough. But it was only a little pink, so I just put 85 on it and called it a day. I ended up reapplying again that afternoon, and I realized my thighs were a little worse than I had originally thought. By the time our dinner date was over, I was miserable. I had also forgotten my neck, and right under my bikini top it was dark red. My thighs were by far the worst. Blood red skin that moves against each other when you walk.
After lots of aloe (which some people pronounce ay-loe), water, and more sleep last night, my skin is slightly less in pain, but just as red. I hope my bright red neck fades before work tomorrow.
Besides the burn, it was a great day at the beach though. I'm just really angry at SPF 85+ lotion for making me think I couldn't get burned. Oh well.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Sandy
I did my good deed for today.
Driving home from work, a dog ran out in front of my car. She (I think) was a young golden retriever or retriever mix. I saw on the other side of the road was a cop chasing her down, so I decided to turn in and try to help him catch this dog. She was very skittish and nervous. At first, she stayed about 5 feet from me. I was just trying to keep her calm and make sure she doesn't run more or go back into the busy street.
So then the cop crosses the street and tells me that he found out the dog belongs to the people who own the house whose yard we were in at that moment. It was a run down shack with a shitty fence. The police man knocked on the door while I talked sweetly to the dog and tried to talk her into going into her back yard. When I realized she was terrified to go into her own yard, I knew someone was hurting her.
Well, the man that answered to the police officer's knocks was a drunk Mexican who couldn't speak English despite being in the US for years. He called the dog Sandy. Sandy hated him. Her ears immediately went down with her tail between her legs. The closer her got to her, the faster she ran. I wanted to kill this man.
So she took off down the street and I followed her on foot while the officer got his car and called animal control. He also realized that Sandy was being hurt by this man, so he said that since the dog didn't have a collar and he couldn't understand what the man was saying, he was treating the dog like a stray.
Well, as I was following Sandy, she went into a backyard which was fenced in but had a broken gate, so I stood in the opening and kept her in this random person's back yard. Once Jose (or whatever his name was) was gone (about halfway through the chase for the dog, he lost interest and went back home), Sandy was much calmer and very sweet. I told the cop once he caught up with me that I would gladly take the dog home and put her in my yard or take her to a kill-free shelter where I used to work. He said it was OK with him if it was OK with animal control.
So then animal control came, and the lady told me that since we are treating this dog as a stray, it is their policy to keep it for 9 days so the owners can have a chance to find the dog. After that, it can be euthanized or adopted. Well now I'm in the process of calling shelters to see if they will take the dog. Either way, you can bet that in 9 days I'm going to be at the pound picking up that dog.
Even though Sandy isn't in a good home yet, I'm still glad that she will never be hurt again.
Driving home from work, a dog ran out in front of my car. She (I think) was a young golden retriever or retriever mix. I saw on the other side of the road was a cop chasing her down, so I decided to turn in and try to help him catch this dog. She was very skittish and nervous. At first, she stayed about 5 feet from me. I was just trying to keep her calm and make sure she doesn't run more or go back into the busy street.
So then the cop crosses the street and tells me that he found out the dog belongs to the people who own the house whose yard we were in at that moment. It was a run down shack with a shitty fence. The police man knocked on the door while I talked sweetly to the dog and tried to talk her into going into her back yard. When I realized she was terrified to go into her own yard, I knew someone was hurting her.
Well, the man that answered to the police officer's knocks was a drunk Mexican who couldn't speak English despite being in the US for years. He called the dog Sandy. Sandy hated him. Her ears immediately went down with her tail between her legs. The closer her got to her, the faster she ran. I wanted to kill this man.
So she took off down the street and I followed her on foot while the officer got his car and called animal control. He also realized that Sandy was being hurt by this man, so he said that since the dog didn't have a collar and he couldn't understand what the man was saying, he was treating the dog like a stray.
Well, as I was following Sandy, she went into a backyard which was fenced in but had a broken gate, so I stood in the opening and kept her in this random person's back yard. Once Jose (or whatever his name was) was gone (about halfway through the chase for the dog, he lost interest and went back home), Sandy was much calmer and very sweet. I told the cop once he caught up with me that I would gladly take the dog home and put her in my yard or take her to a kill-free shelter where I used to work. He said it was OK with him if it was OK with animal control.
So then animal control came, and the lady told me that since we are treating this dog as a stray, it is their policy to keep it for 9 days so the owners can have a chance to find the dog. After that, it can be euthanized or adopted. Well now I'm in the process of calling shelters to see if they will take the dog. Either way, you can bet that in 9 days I'm going to be at the pound picking up that dog.
Even though Sandy isn't in a good home yet, I'm still glad that she will never be hurt again.
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