Nothing is more uplifting then a good picnic, as long as its good picnic. The sense of accomplishment in ceasing an entire sunny Sunday for the sake of pure fun is soon after replaced by a fast spreading fatigue, the result of a day well spent.
Now, that the end is in the horizon, we share a general feeling that every minute needs to count. Sunday was made into a Latino themed BBQ; a spot was conquered in the park, and we set up camp; bags were emptied, plastic containers were opened and the grill was lit. With 10 food and booze addicts in charge, it’s a surprisingly organized ordeal with the best in food on offer; margheritas, mojito, grilled meat, home made tortillas, salsas, guacamole, frijoles, rice, roasted potatoes and sesame chili corn bread.
I even baked a southern style pecan pie using US Pecans sold in the UK, brought over to Parma, and eaten by Americans. The world is round and everything comes full circle and Pecans are no exception.
Well equipped with beer, a Frisbee, a couple of swings, a blanket and enough bottles for a water fight, we settled down in the park until after dark.
I am now at home. I am full. I am tired. I am content.
I am in bed. And I am so glad I have had my shower. A thunderstorm is on its way to wash over the heat of day.