Summer Days and Aloe Nights

This has been our week to burn, baby, burn. Last Wednesday I was stir-frying and I tossed the meat in the wok on top of the hot oil like I always do. Never gotten more than a couple of pinprick spatters before, but this time for some reason a giant blob of boiling hot oil leapt enthusiastically out of the pan and landed on the inside of my right arm. Ow. L. came running at my girlie shriek and asked "But it's not bad, right?" and I was like, "Dude, it hurts like a bitch. I think it's bad." But I couldn't leave the stove, cause you know stir-fry cooks in like two minutes and I didn't want it to burn. So I was stir-frying with my left hand while leaning back every once in a while to hold my right arm under the cold running water in the sink. Amusing, no? Once dinner was ready I slapped some aloe on it (my arm, not the dinner) and it didn't take long for my marvelous burn pattern to emerge -- it's kind of a Morse code of pain, made up of two or three streaks, a couple of dots and two big blobs right in the inside crook of my elbow where they rub together whenever I bend my arm. Attractive! As the days go by and the red fades to a brown scab I'm beginning to look like I have the world's strangest birthmark. Either that or it's a coded message from our alien overlords. Translate my arm and win a free anal probe!

Then on Saturday, like a dumbass, I decide I feel like doing something new and yet relaxing at the same time so L. and I decide to go to the beach. Orchard Beach, to be precise, which we've been meaning to check out ever since we moved to the Northern reaches of Manhattan and discovered that there is an express bus that shoots you there straight across the Bronx in 50 minutes flat from our apartment. You'd think that the fact that I already am the proud owner of a second-degree burn would warn me off that plan, but no. So we go. And Orchard Beach is actually quite nice, as public city beaches go. I had been thinking about inviting the Girls to a beach day there, cause it's so easy to get to (no Long Island Railroad to deal with) but I wanted to check it out with L. first in case it was gross. And it's not gross, so yay. It's not pristine either, but it's at least as clean as Coney and maybe a little bit better, so totally fine as long as you get there early before it gets really crowded. Also, it's in a beautiful park with trees, which is a little weird -- I'm not used to being on a beach surrounded by trees. L. and I decided it was actually a be-ark, a combination of beach and park. There are even picturesque little islands in the bay just off the beach with trees on them too. Of course, L. and I were possibly the only two white people there but hell, whatever beach I go to I'm always the whitest person there.

But here's the completely predictable kicker -- of course we got burned. And we were so careful too! We put spf30 on before we even left the house, and we only stayed at the beach for a total of 3 hours, and we went early (10am) and it was even cloudy! Man, we just can't win. By the time we got home, our backs were bright red. Since it's just our backs (and the backs of my thighs) I'm thinking we rubbed off the sunscreen on our clothes while sitting on the bus for almost an hour before we even got to the beach. (Next time, reapply as soon as we get there!) Out comes the aloe again, this time slathered on thickly enough to require wearing a t-shirt to bed lest one stick to the sheets. The next day, I was better, but L. was worse -- yes, for all of you who remember any of his previous beach adventures, it was The Return of Lobster-Boy! It's a limited and painful superpower, but certainly a dramatic one. Today he is still dark red (although it's patchy instead of solid) so I just ran out to buy more aloe. Aloe -- Lobster-Boy's Kryptonite. Same color, too.