Such a . . . romantic notion.
Sunshine. 75º F with a light breeze. Wildflower meadows. Woodland creatures - at a respectful distance. Perfect fried chicken. Frolicking.
But, at least for this gal, the reality never matches the picture in my head.
MY picnics have never really lived up to their billing!
Wasps. Wind. Seagulls. Brownie-melting heat and humidity. Bickering children. Sticky everything. Wasps. (Did I mention wasps?)
Once a squirrel ATE through the corner of my lovely picnic basket. While we frolicked.
(Calgon. . . take me away . . . )
So when Carole emailed this week's Ten on Tuesday topic, I just laughed. Because I don't DO picnics anymore. (But I definitely want to go on a picnic with Carole. Because she knows how to do it. And . . . brownies!)
If anyone does mention "picnic" in relation to "me," though, I bring three things:
- Wine glasses
Take that, wasps!
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