Sunday = Picnic Day

What picture do you choose to express the mood of the day?

This goddamn dog that everyone hates (except its owner) and who ate all my goat cheese and tuna fish salad, ran over the entire picnic and when wet, shook its fur around us?

This lady that assures us she’s not drinking alcohol anymore, and hasn’t done so for 2 months now? You don’t say.

Or the girl power? It’s seems to be the highlight of every picnic, riding the pickup truck.

Maybe these boys, who had lengthy discussions about how to convince your mom you should have a blackberry, where to get a fake ID, how to get your driver’s license in one day and then tried out the Jeep off-road.

Or these senior citizens who emptied a bottle (or two) of wine, then claimed they hadn't and (one of them) ended up smoking behind the tree because “my daughter is not supposed to see me; she won’t let me smoke.”  Isn't it supposed to be the other way?

Or this Mom & son team? There were quite a lot of Mom & sons teams, four, as a matter of fact. They drive the car these days (well, those over at least). Some complained. "If I wait for you to let me get my driver's license I'll be 30 by the time I can drive a car."

Or this lovely lady who was so relaxed we had to check whether she was still alive. “I hear you, I’m just not talking.”

I don’t know. You take your pick(nic). Picnic season is going in full force.