The bad news: my father-in-law, Brent (almost as awesome as my mother-in-law, Yoriko) has cancer.
The good news:he is expected to fully recover.
The other good news: while on our way to visit him in a Murray, UT hospital I spotted this primo marquee.
I hope David A. takes full advantage of the deal.
In other news, I've missed the last two Marquee Mondays due to two different ailments. First it was attack of the killer reaction as allergy season hit full-force. I spent Monday taking allergy pills that cost a small fortune and still didn't work and sucking on cough drops that didn't work, either. In fact, the cough drops so thoroughly DID NOT do their job that I had a near-spasm (okay, so it was a bona fide spasm) in the Salt Lake Public Library. Yeah, the library. You know, where you're supposed to be quiet? Luckily, my writer buddy Sara Zarr went downstairs to the coffee shop and got me some herbal tea, which calmed the attack. What a pal, eh?
I went to California to escape the trauma (among other reasons) but sadly, trauma occurred there as well! Now, the trauma was mainly self-induced, but... I went to Huntington Beach one afternoon, and lotioned up with this uber-SPF sunscreen. I put it all over my face, my neck, arms, shoulder, part in my hair, and my feet. I put a dab of sunscreen behind each knee but otherwise skipped my legs, because I never burn on my legs. Famous last words, right?
I missed Marquee Monday entirely because I got burned so badly I spent the next eight days in bed. I got up only to go to the bathroom, which was torture. I ate pizza, ice cream, and lots of chocolate. I couldn't get up to cook, wash clothes, climb stairs, or even sit for more than 20 minutes. I couldn't use my laptop because it burned my lap (even on a pillow). I missed two Sundays of church because I couldn't wear nylons, and bare legs were SO not an option (I was going to include a photo of my legs, but they're too gross, even for the Internet).
I finally decided to go to Urgent Care yesterday, which was great besides giving me sweet, sweet pain medicine the doctor also provided ointments and antibiotics for my possibly infected burn.
Now for the irony. Most people in my life have been supportive of me and my pathetic, purple (yes, PURPLE) legged self. With the exception of my herb-tea-fetching writer chum, who has done nothing but berate me for my idiocy. Because using sunscreen is a no-brainer. So forget the sympathy vote.
Sara Zarr and her tough love. Man, it hurts as much as the burn (okay, so actually not really).