So what I had envisioned for a picnic in the park involved me wearing a flowy dress and a big hat, sitting primly on a blanket, nibbling finger sandwiches. Nevermind that I neither sit primly nor nibble but rather slouch and fling food down my gullet.
I think when I wrote "picnic in the park," I really meant "picnic in the 1800s."
But picnic we did. The weather was cold and windy and foggy as San Francisco is wont to be, but we managed to find a spot in Golden Gate Park that was sheltered by a grove of trees (which doubled as a bathroom since there wasn't one nearby).
I had bought a little picnic basket at the Salvation Army for seven dollars, and I was so! excited! to! use! it!
Hot dogs, potato salad, macaroni salad, Doritos, grapes, and french bread with cheese spread. Happy 4th, indeed!
See those red plates and cups? They came IN the picnic basket, still in their wrappers.
The boys played football while I
ate the leftover kept birds away from the food. I played, too, actually. I can throw all right, but catching would probably be easier if I weren't such a cliche afraid-of-the-ball sissy.
Not sure why I am making that weird face. My guess is that I am in some kind of cheesy bread trance.
The picnic was fun, even if I didn't get to stroll amongst the flowers twirling my parasol.
