February Picnic

I don't think I've ever been invited

to a February picnic,

at least until a few days ago.
Not in the Pacific Northwest.

My son and daughter-in-law

and the little squirt have moved

a bit closer (but still over 90 minutes away).

They're living in an apartment built above a three-car garage

on the property that Katie's cousin's family is living in.

It's right next to a lake.

So they asked me to bring them the microwave oven

that's been stored in my basement

and to come for a picnic,

since it was a sunny day.

Did I mention it was probably about 45 degrees F or 7.2 C?

And that was before the sun went down!

But everyone had a good time.

Logan wore a life jacket over his coat,

and big boy shoes as a counterpoint to his

omnipresent pacifier 

and Brendan or Katie or Grandpa Jeff

followed him every step he took.

Logan had lots of company,

because Katie's cousins Sarah and Emily have kids.

 Logan loves to follow the big boys around.

There was a hot dog roast and s'mores.

Greek salad for me, since I'm not eating

animal flesh as a general rule.

I know. . . . Greek salad at a hot dog roast?

And I can't even blame it on my heritage

since I don't have a drop of Greek blood

that I know of.

There was a paddle boat to peddle.

A smoky fire in the fire pit.
And a chair next to Mary, Katie's mother,
whose husband Jeff stopped to get her a latte
on his way to the lake because he knew
she wasn't feeling well.  

And -- oh yeah -- we had a great sunset.

I played with my camera as it got dark

and watched the lights across the lake

dance in the air and on the surface of the water.

All during this time, I tried mightily not to think cold thoughts.

When I realized it was a losing battle,

I got in the car for the drive home,

cranked up the heat to high,

and turned on my seat heater.

I managed to thaw out by the time I got home.

Barely.