Brace yourself Spring of aught 9… I've only just begun making you my b**ch!

I'm sitting here after the first weekend of spring in pain; grinning widely, as it's a delectably thorough and satisfying pain.

My head throbs with the residual verberation of last night's unbelievably entertaining Red concert. The best live set of music I've ever heard also contributed my sleep-deprived and bloodshot eyes, the consistent mosquito-hum ringing in my ears, and my hoarse throat, raw from singing and cheering. My calves, quads and forearms ache from hours of being trounced on the tennis court by Todd. My receding hairline provided no obstacle to the hours spent reacquainting ourselves with the sun as our hemisphere gradually rolls to greet her. This annual reunion has left my forehead red and delightfully tender to the touch. I can already feel the rest of my scalp getting jealous. The remaining hair feels heavier than ever. Don't worry, clippers, as soon as Jenny isn't watching we'll have our chance.

Ahhhh, the first sunburn of the year, I friggin love it! As John Cougar Mellencamp stated so eloquently back in '82, "Hurts so good!"

I love the sun. Rest assured, Jenny, our nearest star is the closest thing to a mistress I'll ever have. While most cultures try to attribute male pronouns to the quintessential heat source of our existence, I disagree. I consider the chaotic and unpredictable (yet also life-giving) power of our solar matron to be very feminine. And as such, I also consider our complicated relationship to be a very sensual one.

Every unprotected rendezvous with her caress is addicting and intoxicating. In her embrace, minutes quickly become hours until, inevitably, the stinging on your shoulders reminds you how quickly this seemingly monogamous dance can become a threesome with melanoma. I hate you melanoma, you sticky, ghoulish little creep. Like an STD, you sulk in shadows, breathing heavily out of your mouth and eagerly awaiting your window.

Like the preventative measures of safe sex, SPF 45 becomes the condom of "Safe Sun." Sure, the feel may not be exactly the same, but with an experienced partner such as the sun, the pleasure can be nearly as enjoyable.

I suppose it's a note more self-directed than to anyone else. Between now and the time these new budding leaves begin to redden and fall, you may find yourself standing on the grass with your face pointed to the east. You may close your eyes, breathe deep, and listen as the birds sing their pre-dawn praises to the new day. And as the first rays of morning splash over the mountain peaks, you might even whisper, "Come on baby, make it hurt so good." Even when you feel invincible, like "Riding Bareback" as some might say, take the time to slip on some protection. For, as Icarus (a fellow sun-lover) said, "Tis better safe, than sorry."

Give yourself, your skin, another day to play.