Life is a picnic

What do you get out of a missed birthday, a preference for pies, and an irksome radio topic? A picnic of course.

Our story began like this:

On the way to school I prefer to listen to the morning drive time team of Murphy, Maino, and Katie on WIXX, as opposed to my father’s top choices: Sportscenter, country music, or silence. One morning about half way to school we listened to WIXX and, among their usual banter, they settled on the topic of picnics. I heard appalling phrases like “Who actually has picnics anymore?” and “Who even has a picnic basket?” and “Where do you go for a picnic, anyway?”

“Well Murphy, Maino and Katie,” I thought, “I have a picnic basket, and I live across the street from a park, so I will have a picnic.” Thus began the planning for my picnic, held out of spite.

Around the same time my close friend Karma’s birthday came and went. My promised birthday present: a cake shaped like a giraffe. A week after her birthday, we made elaborate plans for getting the cake to school, none of which we carried out. Somewhere along the way the cake changed to a pie. I explained that pies traveled better than cakes, but really I think pies are just better. When I proposed the idea of having a picnic to celebrate her birthday (and to spite the morning DJs) no one was more excited than Karma. Quickly we threw a menu together — featuring a giraffe pie, of course — and we invited our other friend, David.

Armed with oranges, PB&J’s, Kool-Aid, almonds, and pie, we set out on Monday afternoon, a random day off from school for us. Despite the overcast sky, the cold wind and our feet, which got thoroughly soaked on the walk, we thought it was a pleasant day for a picnic. Fearing rain, we set up in the pavilion. After setting up our table and unloading the food, we didn’t hesitate to dig in. While the food tasted good, it couldn’t compare to the company. We probably looked like a ridiculous group to anyone else who braved the park that day, sitting with our neatly spread out tablecloth and laughing with our mouth’s full.

When our toes started to turn blue, and our stomachs were full, we packed up. In the end, we were all proud of our picnic.

The moral of the story, Murphy Mino and Katie, is that picnics can happen anytime with anything. With the threat of rain literally hanging over our heads, our picnic was still as enjoyable as it would have been on a warm, sunny day.

To all the non-believers out there who didn’t think I could make a giraffe pie, especially my mother, Ha!
I am a proud owner of a picnic basket.
Karma’s carefully chosen picnic table.
Forks are for sissies.
David avoided my camera like the plague, but I managed to get a picture of him smiling, even if he’s not looking at the camera.
All we were left with was a third of a pie and beheaded giraffe.

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