Yogi Bear Hates Me

Why in the world does everyone get excited about picnics? The weather clears and everyone starts talking about picnic lunches, picnicking in the park, taking a picnic on a hike...why does this sound like so much fun to everyone but me?

I guess you can think of some good things about picnics. Picnics do sound romantic as you imagine your honey's head on you lap as you feed him grapes. Of course, you're dressed in a romantic soft skirt and lace and hat and he's handsome. Sure, that sound fun. Or you can think of your adorable family all sitting on a checkered blanket eating watermelon - and how cute that is with seeds in their mouths and Junior missing his front teeth. Or even hosting a gals lunch of crackers and cheese with a bottle of wine discussing Proust. Tittering over "Remembrances of Things Past" while eating pate.

Then reality sits in. Someone has to make the picnic - and in my house - that would be me. We don't have any picnic foods in this house. We have stuff for a barbecue. We have supplies for a gourmet dinner. We have a lot of cereal. But a romantic picnic for two a la champagne and grapes? Ain't happening. And the romantic skirt? Do I even own a skirt - let alone a hat?

A family picnic? Oh, I guess I could throw together some sandwiches and throw in a bag of chips. But we don't have portable drinks - as soon as they are bought they disappear - so I gave up that fight long ago. And the requisite watermelon? I guess when I pick up the drinks - I can grab one of those too. The fun factor of the family picnic just went way down. Who's carrying all this crap when we get to the picnic site? And don't forget the knife to cut the watermelon - because I didn't have time to cut it before we left because everyone was ready but me. And soon enough I'll have watermelon seeds being spit at me. Again. No.

I don't like sitting on the ground. I don't like hauling things to the middle of nowhere. I don't like setting up or cleaning up. I'd much rather stop at Burger King or Subway and get it to go - instant picnic. I'm not in charge of anything - and when we're done - we throw it away.

As for the gals get together. Sure. I like my wine. I like Proust. I like pate. How about that same combination in a French Bistro with a cute bartender? Now that's a picnic!