Keg-Stand on the Sun

The earth has received the embrace of the sun and we shall see the results of that love.
–Sitting Bull

I used to tan at Zuma Beach. You know it: it’s where Mitch, C.J., Shauni and Hobi jogged across the sand in all too tight or high cut red suits.

If I wasn’t at Zuma catching the rays, I was poolside in our backyard, or in a tube top–lest I get tan lines–on my horse. My sun worship has caused sun poisoning, cancerous moles and an array of freckles.

I’ll not even discuss the years I spent mostly undressed except for plastic goggles over my eyes, prone in a tanning bed. Foolish, silly girl.

Despite this addiction, the lack of sun here in Washington has not sparked Seasonal Affective Disorder. I’ve taken N’s Danish roots and attempted to create hygge in my house, lighting candles and cozying up the place where I hunker when it’s dark and pissing rain. And I came to the conclusion that for 30 years, I had been mislead: my natural skin tone is not almond. That was my tan.

But today–oh glorious day–the sun broke across the sky. Today I wore sunglasses for the first time in four months. Today I thought about putting on sunblock. Today I strategically placed myself in the sluice of sun when practicing shavasana. I never. wanted. to. move. I felt like Sissy, the cat at the barn, seeking out the light and lounging endlessly in it. I could feel the vitamin D permeate my skin, zip around in my brain, energize my every cell.

Bellingham Bay

Bellingham Bay crawled with the sun seekers. We were all bundled up–the wind was damn cold–but the sun! She was resplendent, radiant. She does this thing, when you see her, where she throws herself on mountain peaks, which are coated in snow, and they glisten together, like the lights off the sequins at a Madonna show. The sun casts rays through water, then bounces off the surface and throws a deep shadow against the trunk of a tree. She makes the world sharp; she makes people smile and giggle. It’s like we’re drunk here on the sun–a honey mead that we’d forgotten about, found again and chugged down. I want to do a keg-stand on the sun.

It wasn’t like this in California. If Zuma was grey or even overcast, we were pissed. How dare this marine layer edge in here! Which reminds me of a 60 Minutes segment, where they declared Denmark as the happiest nation in the world. They have low expectations, it was partially concluded, so when things are above average, they are blissful. Likewise, up here, we expect the gloom. But when it gets pushed out, when the sun wins the great arm wrestle match in the sky, well then, we are elated.

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