One of Kellie’s pre-vacation rituals is to make a few trips to the local tanning salon to build a good base tan before hitting the beach. She tries to get me to go along but I steadfastly refuse. After almost 30 years in the submarine force, I have learned to accept my complexion's pasty white hue. Besides, I probably did enough skin damage in my early twenties when I shunned any form of sunblock and coated my entire body with a mixture of baby oil and iodine in vain pursuit of the perfect bronze tan. Those days are well behind me now, but I digress.
I’ve never tried a tanning bed before, but apparently there are controls that allow you to turn off the lights that tan your face. For some reason, Kellie forgot to turn off those lights and got a little sunburn; it was fortunate that she was wearing those little goggles to protect her eyes. However, by the next morning she looked like a photo negative of Ricky Raccoon. I tried to a get picture but she vigorously resisted.
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