Queenstown, NZ & Kristin's Wedding

Saturday, May 7
South Island

We slept a glorious 14 hours without interruption - FOURTEEN! And being that we went to bed at the same time as your grandparents the night before, we were up early and ready for the day.

Good morning, Queenstown - the view from our room by Lake Wakatipu.

First stop, the Saturday Artist Market downtown to get a taste of Queenstown before the wedding that afternoon.

Across the street from our hotel, looking left...

...and looking right.

The walk to town and the market.

Local artists set up by the wharf every Saturday to sell their wares, and I'm a sucker for local artists. Across the tables were hand-painted Maori designs, flattened beer bottle clocks, pottery, jewelry, and knitwear. There was even a man with his guitar nearby to add music to our shopping experience.

The Hat Lady

She said this one brought out my eyes.

We walked around by the water for a while, soaking up the early day sunshine and beautiful view of Lake Wakatipu and the Remarkables, the mountain range beyond.

Across from the wharf, we wandered into a park where frisbee golf is a serious sport, and trees from around the world have been planted to create a multicultural collection.

A big tree and me :)

The colors were astonishing as we ambled along the pathways, over tiny bridges and hills rising above the lake.  It was a beautifully calm way to begin the day.  Next stop: Kristin and Matt's wedding!

Although a missed email about changing ceremony times made for a slightly late arrival, we got there in time to watch Kristin and Matt take their vows inside a gorgeous little chapel atop a hill at the Stoneridge Estate.  The ceremony was short and sweet, then it was time for pictures before the rain swept in.

Matt, mother of the bride, and Kristin

Luckily there were drinks and hors d'oeuvres awaiting us inside, alongside stone fireplaces and beneath  exposed-beam ceilings - it was all very romantic. Matt's family comes from Auckland, and there were a bunch of them there for the big day, all wonderfully friendly and welcoming to the handful of Americans that made the trip. By the end of the night, we'd managed to not only make tentative dinner plans with one set of cousins once in Auckland at the end of our trip, but plans to get together while in Edinburgh in August with another pair who happens to currently live there. 

The food was fabulous, the company even better, and it was cool to be at the wedding of the girl who once dyed her hair green and wore green eyeliner for lipstick, the same girl who introduced me to punk music and threw me a surprise party for my seventeenth birthday.  

I met Kristin in the 9th grade at St. Petersburg High School. I was insecure and shy, and she was not.  Kristin had a strong sense of self then, and in her life has done it all for herself. She's the only person I've ever known who could just decide to go somewhere and make it happen. Florida to New York?  No problem. New York to Australia?  Sure! How about New Zealand, with a couple stints working in Antarctica? Why not! And now here she was, marrying the man of her dreams, a Kiwi, in his homeland and starting on the next chapter of life.  

It was a fantastic way to end our first real day in Queenstown, and an even better way to kick off our trip. What could be better than celebrating with an old friend and her new, great family.

Thanks for the good time, Wilson family!

  

And Away We Go To Circle the Globe: Our Trip to New Zealand

Wednesday - Friday, May 4-6

It's true.  This trip would, in fact, have us circle the Earth from start to finish, which made it all the more exciting as we took off on the 4th of May.

First to London...easy two hours;

It was a long morning that began a very long day, but we were up for it!

A couple of ciders at Heathrow were in order in preparation of the first half of a 24-hour flight that would take us to the other side of the world.


Cider: The way to start your day!  (No worries, it was after noon.)




then on to LAX (yes, that way)... about twelve;



Getting sleepy after keeping awake - thank you Air New Zealand for your extensive TV and movie list!




then Auckland...another twelve;

Still kicking!  This thanks goes to over-the-counter sleeping pills for the one who can't do it on her own!

Look at that smile - that girl SLEPT!







until finally - two days later, local time - we touched down in Queenstown, NZ!

The ride over wasn't as bas as we thought it'd be.  Security was definitely heightened, perhaps due to Bin Laden's death.  The underwire in my bra won me a complimentary frisk in Stuttgart, and Chris won the draw for a further random search in London.  Flight #2 of the day brought a string of bad romantic comedies and nearly a season of Modern Family - it was great.  The hour and a half stop in Los Angeles for refueling between the two 12-hour stretches was interesting - I didn't know a person could become a terrorist mid-flight?  By some miracle (called Sominex) I actually managed to sleep 7 hours!  A much needed rest before our first day in New Zealand, especially since we arrived in the morning - no sleep for the jet-lagged!

(I feel like I'm using too many exclamation points...but it was exciting!!!)

A slight delay in Auckland had us to Queenstown by noontime and we were ready. First stop: Arrowtown, for a little look around.

May in New Zealand comes in late fall, but we were still there in time to catch some of the beautiful fall colors.

My favorite part of our first day was one lovely woman we spoke to in a shop in town. She happily informed us that we'd chosen the absolute worst time of year to visit, since we'd missed the best of the colors and it was damp and getting cold.  Swell, we'll just turn around and go home, then!  Then upon overhearing me say how much I was looking forward to going to sleep that night, she piped up to let us know that we wouldn't be sleeping.  No, jet-lag would have us up wide awake in the middle of the night.  Cheers, Arrowtown lady!

But my real favorite part of our first day, aside from the beautiful colors and eventually crashing that evening, was the freaking amazing venison burger I had for lunch.  (Chris had one, too, but he's not writing this.)

Is it weird that I'm including a picture?

We began our trip in Queenstown to attend the wedding of an old friend of mine, and we tried so hard to fight our bodies and stay awake until a respectable hour that first night so we could meet up after the rehearsal dinner for catching up and drinks.  But heads hit pillows and we were done.  Defeated.  Out.  At 6pm.

Mine

I've been avoiding this for weeks, writing anything here.

At first there just wasn't time.  The minute we were in the door, shaking off the day's travels and dropping our luggage on the floor at one in the morning, it was as if we were on.  Last get-togethers with departing friends, heavy-hearted goodbyes, and then scurrying to get something together for a reading event downtown with the Writer's Group.  I'm glad to say it all went off without a hitch; the Wisneskis made their train, and after, their flight, and I managed to read outside my typical zone without passing out in front of a room full of people.  

Then we took a breath.

Friends have asked when they can expect to read about New Zealand and Hong Kong, this amazing trip from which Chris and I have recently returned.  My brother has pleaded for pictures; my top ten per day, at least!  But as tends to be true of the things that don't get done, I haven't made the time to begin.  And part of that is because I've known that the first one has to be for her.

Heidi came home today, and I decided it was time to take another step toward saying goodbye.

She lived for sixteen years and three weeks.  Born in Alabama, but a Florida Gator through and through, she grew up in central Florida, spending three of those years at the University of Florida.  Well, Gainesville, anyway.  Who knew this American girl would go on to live in beautiful Tuscany for five years, and then Germany for another two and a half.  While living in the land from whence her name comes, she visited both the Alsace region of France and Prague, accompanying her people to wine tastings and get-togethers with friends.  Wherever we went, people were shocked at her age, which is probably why in the end, she seemed to age so very suddenly to me.

I've gone back and forth in my mind about what exactly to share in this blog.  A few weeks ago I was ready to write every detail of what's been going on in my mind and heart since she passed, but now I realize how very personal grief is, and that it's not all for sharing.  Some of it is just mine.

What I will share are parts of a letter I wrote to her the day she left us.  Yes, I wrote a letter to my dog - we were far away and she was going without us; it was all I could do.  Sitting on the bed in a Bed&Breakfast in Kaikoura, New Zealand with a notebook in my lap, these are some of the things I wanted to say to her:

                                                     *********************

Dear Heidi,

...Thank you for being all mine when I lacked for a feeling of uncritical acceptance.  Thank you for keeping me grounded when my college days could have brought me trouble.  Thank you for being my comfort and my company, my piece of home when I was newly married, far from home, and lonely, trying to find my place in this new life... I will miss scooping you up and forcing snuggles upon you, ignoring your protests and harmless snarls.  I will miss waking up too early to let you out, and I will miss your Death Breath.  I will remember how high you used to jump, how much you hated to be brushed, how easily annoyed you were when bothered at bedtime, how well you got along with any and every other animal, your three overnight escapes and returns home, and games of hide and seek around the house...  

There are so many memories you've given me, so many happinesses I hope I was able to give back.  As the moment nears, I hope your mind will wander to the sunny, carefree days we've had together and surround you with love as you fall asleep one last time.

I love you so very much.

                                                        *********************

Since we've been home many people have heard about Heidi and have stopped me to say how sorry they are.  This inevitably begins a sharing session of every pet every person in the room has ever lost, which generally stretches on long after I've had to leave the room to get back to work.  I appreciate very much that people care, and understand that we all have this need to connect over a loss.  My grief has been strange, though, and it's difficult to understand.  

When someone dies, we mourn them and remember the time we spent together.  Although I've had to say goodbye to too many people already, none of them had been such a daily fixture in my life for so many years like she was.  I think this is why Heidi's death has been so weird and so hard.  From fourteen, through high-school and college, to newlywed life and moving far from home until last month, she was my consistency.  An ever-forgiving and loving companion aside, she was a piece of my youth, my growing up, my becoming who I am right now.  Her passing brings with it a kind of goodbye to the me I once was, and the life I once had.  Ready or not, here I go into the next major chapter of life.  And I will always think of her with a smile, though my eyes may tear.   

Because in this life there will be few treasured experiences that truly belong to me, but having her and loving her, and now missing her do.  They are mine, and so was she.  And I am grateful.

Heidi 

April 20, 1995 - May 13, 2011

Live in Peace

It isn't Veteran's Day, but today I'm thinking about a few soldiers.

Last night Chris was reading through various news websites and called me over when he came across one website's photo of the day.  It was taken at a memorial service for a fallen Army soldier, killed not too long ago in Afghanistan by a roadside bomb.  We didn't know him.  We did, however, know the man wheeled to the front of the room, saluting with tears burning down his face, and the woman pushing his chair, his wife.  Even in a partial body brace and device holding his head up, this man's anguish took over his whole body, and brought me to tears in the comfort and safety of our living room.  It was difficult to look at, because this is the first time we've actually known someone seriously wounded by war, and that connection suddenly made all the madness very personal.

Working with and among military communities, we've known many people who have and will deploy to fight for their country.  Anyone who comes through such intense and violent experiences must carry some wounds.  Everyone we've known until now has come home safely, though not without difficult images burned into their minds, no doubt.  We had known this couple from the photograph in another place.  I'd even begun to make plans for getting together when it looked for a while like we'd all be moving on to the same new location.  But circumstances took them in another geographical direction, and that was that.  It is the nature of this lifestyle to run into old friends clear across the world, we just hadn't expected to see them again in this way.  

As a non-military person whose only ties to which had previously been through a grandfather, now passed on, and a cousin I haven't seen since I was a kid, it was easy to maintain a certain distance from the stress of "living military."  The faith a family must have to say goodbye when their loved one leaves with no guarantee of return; the strength a person must have to see what they see and do what they do in the face of terrible war, and that which the family and friends at home carry to get through the days of unknowing; and being devoted to something they believe in enough to carry on with love and pride.  Most people we've only known after their deployments, and some share stories and others don't.  A good friend of ours deployed last year and that was the first time I felt real and deep worry, because I know him and his family, and that dipped into my actual life.  I listen to my friends whose husbands have deployed or will soon and I feel for them, their apprehension, their struggle, but I know I will never truly know their fear nor their strength in this way.  It is a life they've signed on for because their partners did, and although they remain behind when duty calls, they are fighting the battles every day alongside every person in uniform, just on a different front.  It is one of the many reasons I love them and have such respect for them.  It's so much easier when you don't know anybody "over there."

The man in the wheelchair survived an attack that took two of his brothers in arms.  He is lucky.  He got to come home to his family.  When we first heard he'd been injured it was jarring, and we quickly jumped onto FaceBook to see some welcome home pictures his wife posted, their daughter hugging her father tightly in his hospital bed with damp eyes and pink cheeks.  We couldn't believe he'd been hurt, though I'm not sure where the logic was in that.  But we know him, I remember thinking.  Relieved he'd come home alive, I suppose we just let the current of every day life carry us on.  But this photo did something different.  I'm having trouble dislodging the weight of it from my chest.  It's one thing, I believe, to look at pictures of someone bandaged up in a hospital bed with a smile on their face because they're surrounded by family and happy to be home.  It's quite another to witness the naked anguish gripping someone when faced with a pair of empty Army boots set upon a table.  Seeing the sorrow makes it more real to someone who's never been there, and my chest constricts as I type this because of it.  

I'm not really sure what I thought it might accomplish, but I felt moved to write about this today.  When Chris and I first began this journey together far from home, we were the last people who would have expected the two of us to be associated with the military, let alone government.  We, you see, were a regular couple of liberals who didn't believe in, nor support war or many of the decisions our government made.  And while years down the road, we still don't agree with everything that goes on, we have a better understanding of the most important part of the American military: the people.  People are not their government, the same as you are not your boss (unless you are, in which case, bravo!).  People are living, breathing, hurting, growing, learning, loving beings who all strive for basically the same thing - to be happy and to be loved.  Safety is a part of that.  Peace is a part of that.  Freedom is part of that, and not just the freedom usually spoken of in times of war and defending our country, but the freedom to live and be however fulfills one's life.  I think it must be easy for us to forget the people in the dust clouds of the fighting, otherwise we wouldn't need so much reminding.

I didn't know the man whose shoes sat on that table in the photograph, but I hope that he will rest in peace wherever he is.  As for our friend who came home a little broken, and everyone who comes home or welcomes a person in uniform back...for all of us, I hope that someday we may live that way.

Mangoes

I know it's been a while, but I haven't forgotten you, dear blog.  Here, I wrote this for you today while I was downtown.  Just for you.  Random thoughts.  Mostly about mangoes.

                                           **************************************

Please tell me what is better than a mango.  That juicy, sweet, earthy flavor is like nothing else, and I find myself letting slip little squeals whenever I come across anything mango these days.

German mango nektar (juice)
      
        dehydrated mango slices

                 mango margaritas

What's nice about it is that around here there is an abundance of all natural options.  No sugar added, no unpronounceable chemicals to lengthen the shelf-life, just pure and innocent (albeit sliced and smashed) mango.

Circumstances brought me downtown today and it's magnificently gorgeous out.  Although there may or may not be moisture from the ground slowly seeping through my pants, enjoying a lovely little lunch in the grass on my own is really kind of wonderful.  I discovered a tiny (and somewhat new) take away lunch shop as I wandered toward Koenig Strasse, though I don't remember the name.  Yummy and healthy wraps and salads, and the one I took to the park had chicken breast, eggplant cream, carrots, peppers, arugula and pecorino.  It was pretty spectacular.  That and my all natural mango juice made for the perfect picnic for one on this pretty, pretty day.  The flowers have sprung from their winter slumber to assure us that Spring is really here, and there's not a cloud in the sky.  People are strewn about the stretches of grass that frame Schloss Platz, separating the walking paths and fountains.  They are reading, eating, talking, writing, kissing, laughing, and watching.  I've been craving the sounds of the ocean with all this beautiful sunshine, but the gentle murmur of voices and distant rumble of cars somewhere nearby aren't a bad consolation on a day like this.

Why do we focus so much on the weather?  We make fun of the trivial nature of asking about the weather, but we always ask anyway, don't we?  Weather, after all, has a strange power of our moods, and even our level of productivity at times.  And in a land where it really feels like the sky is smeared with thick, grey sludge 9 months out of the year, sunshine is a cause for celebration.

A sheltie just passed by on Koenig Strasse and it makes me think of Ginger and Sasha, the good dogs they were.  I had another dream last night about saving Heidi.  At first I was searching for a lost Heidi, but then I thankfully found her, calling her to me gently so she wouldn't bolt again.  I had her, but then she ran again, and ended up falling into a pond, immediately sinking to the murky bottom.  I dove in after her and pulled her out, and everyone was okay.  Why do I have so many dreams like this?  Always searching for her after she's taken off, or saving her from the likes of monstrous cars and mad dogs?  I'm always protecting her, and it's so stressful.  Maybe it's realizing a 16 year-old pup doesn't realistically have a whole lot of time left, and my subconscious refuses to allow her departure from her life and mine.  I dread the day that turns out to be her final one, but hope for the strength to be there to lovingly usher her out of this life.

Really?  This is what I'm thinking about right now?

As in all things, I suppose, there comes a time to go, and right now, it's time for an iced coffee and a walk for me.

                                    **************************************

So now I find myself sitting upstairs at one of the Starbucks nearby, sipping my caramel frappuccino and breathing a little bit of life back into my blog.  My poor, neglected blog.  And I know this post is rather random and rambling, but so am I.  Before staking claim to a comfy chair and table as I picked up my delicious and indulgent treat, I asked about another drink waiting for its ride down into someone else's tummy.  The color caught my eye.  Upon answering me and witnessing my reaction, the lovely Starbucks girl asked if I'd like a sample, as there was some left over in the blender.  With a gleeful grin I accepted and walked away sipping on a little bit of frozen mango smoothie.

Mangoes.  Happy.  Me. 

Tears to Come

Something I'm not sure I'll ever get used to is the cycle of hellos and goodbyes that come with living amongst a military community.

This last week was one of news for many of our friends here.  It's difficult to find a balance between feeling selfishly sad for having to hug a good friend goodbye, and being excited for the new journey ahead of them.  How do you say congratulations when your heart is saying, "Don't go" at the same time and mean them both?  It's strange, but it happens and it's happening now.

While a couple friends are still awaiting official news of where they'll be going from here, everyone seems to have a pretty good idea and all those places have SUN, so we're all happy for them.  Chris and I have been so incredibly fortunate to have found the friends we've had here, so when summer rolls around this year, there will be a lot of smiling through tear-filled eyes.

Congrats to Angela and Chad, who won't be separated after all, moving to the sunny state of Arizona.  Having been expecting to be apart for a year and basing life plans around that, finding out they'll be moving together must have brought a great sigh of relief to their home.

Congrats to Amy and Rick, who although will sadly be apart for some time, will at least have the comfort of knowing Amy and their kids will be with family and friends who can't wait to have them home again.  I'm sure it will be a comfort to Rick to know his family is being well cared for while he's working hard far away.  Amy and Rick are strong, wonderful people who can and will handle the up-coming separation with grace, no doubt.  It doesn't hurt that they've got two amazing kids to remind them of how great they've got it in the long haul.

Congrats to Diane and Wayne, who will be moving back to the South, where Diane feels at home.  Living only a few hours from her parents, it will surely be a joyous time for everyone, including their (now) 3 beautiful children.  And knowing that my dear friend will be a drivable distance from Chris and my family in Florida at least leaves room to imagine possible visits with them in the next couple of years.  Still, this will be my most difficult goodbye, as Diane has been one of those friends you don't find often, one from whom I've learned so much and one I know I'll always cherish.  But I was good today; I waited until we hung up to cry.

It's also likely that California will be inheriting another favorite family of ours, but we'll wait till that one's official to go into any detail.  What is for sure is that all of our departing friends will be leaving uniquely shaped holes in our hearts, and will be missed dearly.

So why do I feel the need to whine about this publicly?  I guess this post is a kind of emotional purging, with the hopes that as I am reminded to take full advantage of the time I am gifted with people I've come to call family, you will, too.  We have to say goodbye throughout life, whether due to moves, life circumstances, or death.  Remembering that all things change, that all things come to an end in some fashion is important, I think, because it keeps us from taking things for granted, these relationships and these people we love.  So I'll be looking for more opportunities to spend time with some before they leave, making more memories to hold onto when face-to-face get-togethers are replaced with Skype and the phone, as well as with the friends who are thankfully hanging around a bit longer.  The hugs will get a little tighter, and as the time nears, possibly a little longer.

Maybe one of these days I'll be able to say so long to a good friend without shedding a tear when it's time to go, but I kind of hope I don't.  I actually went back to an old post to find something that dawned on me then, and applies again now..."And never worry about the difficulties of goodbye, because between friends that doesn't really exist anyway." (from the post, There You Are, by me).


That's comforting, and realistic given the way the people around us travel all over and wind up with neighbors they shared a street with a decade before.  So that's what I'll be thinking about when the hugs begin this summer.

If I may quote from a good friend's blog regarding this same current happening, "Nothing replaces friends - our hearts only get bigger as we try to fill the void they will leave" (The Adventures of Nicholas Roy Leadbetter and Family, Sara Leadbetter).

I couldn't have said it better, Sara.

Sunshine, Writing, & Newborns

I've recently become aware of the power of these three things in calming me down and lifting me up.  It's interesting that this is a new realization, as introspection has always been a way of life, but there it is.

Sunshine
I've heard of Seasonal Affective Disorder, aka, Winter Depression, where even people with no history of depression can find themselves being tugged in that direction for lack of sun for extended periods.  And it makes sense, both psychologically and biologically, but I never realized how solar powered I really am.  I suppose being a Floridian transplanted to Tuscany, I've always lived in sunshine.  A cloudy day was never a big deal because the cloud cover soon blew over and the sun always reappeared.  Life in Germany is just as amazing, but far less sunny.  Winter tends to not just come for a visit, but unpack and act like it owns the place.  And whereas a white Christmas is gorgeous and fun, a winter that drags on for months (as in beyond Easter, like last year) gets as tiresome as any overstayed guest.  The skies seem stained grey, ever leaking rain, snow, or some variation in-between.  A day that allows for some unscheduled sunshine is a welcome, albeit, rare occurrence.

I wasn't aware of just how low I'd sunk with regards to my mood and overall feeling of well-being until this past weekend when the sun took over the sky for three straight days.  Not a cloud in the sky.  Nothing but bright, white sunshine and crisp, cold winter air.  It was like suddenly remembering how to take a deep breath again.  I found myself stopping to close my eyes and face the sun, whether I was cleaning up in the kitchen, walking Heidi outside, or just passing by a window.  It reminded me of how beautiful it is here, and of how much I love our home with all its many windows, perfect for showcasing brilliant sunlight.  When we were house-hunting, we did call this house Sunshine, after all.

Writing
By now, you may be aware of my love/hate relationship with writing.  As in a passionate love affair, I'm either brimming with excitement, eagerness, and lust or steaming with impatience, frustration, and anger.  But I'm happy to report that we've been in a really great place this last year, ever since I created this blog and made a commitment to spending more time writing, gradually nursing what had become a malnourished relationship back to life.  Daily writing led to a flame rekindled, a passion revived, and a heart relieved that it wasn't really over between us.

I began a new short story in November and all creative energy went straight to that until the completion of the first draft the first week of January.  What began with what I thought to be a clever ending for a three or four pager developed organically into a forty-six page piece.  I'm currently residing in the space between finishing the first draft and awaiting the first round of critiques and comments, most of which I won't receive until the beginning of February.  Not wanting to lose my focus in a new piece of fiction, I'm hesitant to start anything new or even dust off an old, unfinished piece, and so am experiencing a build-up of creative energy and drive.  And as a return to consistent blogging is one of my three very realistic writing goals for 2011, a minimum of one post per week, my hand is singing as I write this post at work while the kids are having Spanish.  I realize it's now the third week of the new year, and this is my first post of 2011, but it takes me a little to move into new habits.

The point is, finding a few minutes to sit down and write this out to share with whoever decides to read it is uplifting, eliciting no minor rush of endorphins through my brain and right back out my fingers. I'm so grateful for this outlet for what it's taught me, and will continue to nourish it, as well as my relationship with writing for as long as I've got words to share.

Newborns
I like kids, always have.  And yes, babies are cute, though I prefer them once their personalities have had time to develop a little.  But I never fully understood why so many people seem to lose their minds over holding babies, especially newborns.  I thought about this because Diane, a very dear friend of mine has just given birth to her third child, their first boy, Blake Patterson.  If I love you, I'll love your children, so I was excited to visit in the hospital the day after his birth and again once they were all home.  I held him for a minute or two in the hospital, as I've held other new babies of friends and family, soon handing them back over for feeding, changing, or consoling, but the second visit was something different, altogether.  This little baby slept cuddled into me for an hour as I talked with his mother and grandmother, making immensely tiny noises and jerking slightly in his sleep.  As I held him, an amazing calm settled over me that I'm quite sure I've never experienced before.  Listening to him, smelling him, and feeling him there, so warm and so beautifully innocent was like a drug, and I say this with absolutely no exaggeration.  My body relaxed and my heart swelled.  By the time I handed him over for a change and dinner from Mommy, I had nearly convinced myself he was mine and I'd do anything to protect him.  And this is how I learned that a sleeping newborn is like a happy muscle relaxer.  My poor husband is surely aware of my intensified need to have one of our own.

But all in good time.




Driving home from work today in a minor snowstorm wasn't enough to dampen my high spirits, especially having spent some time reflecting on sunshine and writing and newborns.  It's always effective to be able to identify the origins of problems to better handle them in the future.  Writing is all mine, a baby is a want but not yet in the works, and sunshine is never a certainty here, but at least I've got a better handle on understanding the beauty and power of simple things.

And maybe I'll be buying a sunlamp sometime soon.