Day #22: Picnick

This afternoon David, Jarrah and I attended the 2nd Annual Pickwick Picnick, which is a summer beach event for people who have been in Pickwick shows.  Although I sometimes feel like a shy outsider, I guess it's sort of official that after three shows, I'm sort of a Pickwick person myself.  They are a really cool bunch of people, many of them teachers, who like theater and kids, which kinda sorta fits my lifestyle to a T.

The Picknick was at Mission Bay, and we were late and missed the three-legged races and whatnot.  Partly, that was because Jarrah was having one of her unpremeditated fits.  During this one, she informed us she would NOT wear her bathing suit; she would NOT even BRING her bathing suit, and no one could make her go in the water.  When David said we were bringing the bathing suit anyway, the fit intensified, but he mildly stood his ground, reminding her that we've met her, and that's why we were bringing it anyway.  Guess how long it took her to decide to put her suit on when we arrived?  In her words, "one second."

Jarrah became fast friends with the daughter of Pippin's choreographer, and her day was pretty much non-stop fun, beginning with a swim in the mysteriously stinky bay, some frolicking in the sand with sand toys, some BBQ-ing of s'mores, a whole bunch of Doritos, and the commandeering of a lifeguard stand after dark.  Really, could a summer day get any better?

I was pleased as punch.  I had a comfy chair with a drink holder cradling a frosty one (that would be root beer), lots of lovely conversation, a perfect s'more, and more conversation.  The day was warm, but a marine layer blew in to cool us down.

As it grew dark and it seemed like things were winding down, I got a wild hare for an impromptu shopping trip for hot dogs and fixin's, and Jessica, Ariel and I had a fun time filling the cart at Keil's.  We were the conquering heroes when we returned with matchlight coals and three different types of dogs, quickly yummed up by the dinner-time crowd.

Situating my chair at the edge of the grass, I was in a great spot to watch the lights twinkling across the bay and the ring of blazing fire pits around us (somehow, our fire didn't quite blaze; it was more of a coy, smoldering coquette.)  Biting into the Nathan's dog I had carefully seared over the glowing coals and then drowned in ketchup and relish, I had to admit that the basic, historic elements of summer never disappoint:  fire against the ocean, sand between the toes, charred dinner on a stick, people to laugh with.