The story of an afternoon picnic

Note to self: Self, never underestimate the adventurousness of an afternoon picnic.

So yesterday, we decided to pack a picnic an head over to a beautiful local park to enjoy it. And I trusted Dusty with his internal GPS to get us to said park "the back way." Which ended up putting us on the other side of town. Granted that boy is usually quite the pro with directions, but there is something about Sundays on a less familiar side of town when all the roads have been redone and there are a gazillion roundabouts that "weren't there before".

So, we ended up by this other park. Which I have heard is a fabulous place for taking pictures. Almost renown. So I mention it to him and he says, " let's go," so we pay our entry fee and follow the signs down to the area that says "lake." Because lakes are darling spots for picnics. And apparently, they don't let you drive all the way to the lake, so we park in the parking area and start to hike down the little "nature" trail. With the 100 pound cooler carried by Dusty {who refuses to leave the cooler in the truck because we might need it}. So after about 100 yards of that, we decide to jointly carry the cooler, which we proceede to do all the way out into this broad clear telephone line path that goes on forever. And finally said path ducks into the woods, and we're thinking that we must be getting close and guess what is on the other side of that mile-long trek through the woods. The clearing. Yup, about 50 yards from where we went into the woods. {???} So at this point we decide to ditch the cooler and come back for it later after we've found the lake. Which never happened, by the way, because we gave up on the idea of toting the cooler the whole way. So we head back and grab the cooler again and begin the uphill path to the truck. And Dusty has the idea to go get the truck and somehow illegally break through the "no trucks through here" gate and come get me. And at this point I think that sounds like a jolly good idea because I'm desperate {see very non-hiking with cooler apparel above} and I think the park people would understand given the severity of the situation. {like a million minutes later} Dusty comes hiking back down the trail. On foot. No truck. Couldn't break through gate because the park people are "smarter than the average bear," according to him. Aaaand guess who carries the cooler back to the truck. The two laughing-like-crazy-delirious fools that are us at this point. And then, we pack the cooler back up and bid farewell to Mr. Alfred B. Maclay's Gardens {which I decided would be more aptly named, "Jurassic Park"} in our best Australian accents {which, by the way, Dusty kind of rocks at. How did I not know this before now???} and trucked it over to the original park where we sat on a "grassy knoll" {another Dustyism} and enjoyed our food. Because we were starving at this point, as lunch had turned into dinner. Oh, and we fed the turtle. See picture above. Quite the adventure. I love that guy. Like a bunch.

A final word of wisdom: When picnicking on uncharted ground, pack a rolly cooler.

Love,

Ramsey