Of simplicity and complication

A surprise visitor in the front yard of our complex a few mornings ago. I'm so glad I always carry my camera on me!

"We hope that, when the insects take over the world, they will remember with gratitude how we took them along on all our picnics." (Bill Vaughan)

This challenge to do 42 new things before my 43rd birthday - which is just over a month away now - has surprised me in many ways. One of the surprises is all the very simple things I've not done thus far in my life, some of which seem more important even than the biggies.

Take, for example, my NEW number 32: a picnic in the park. I've been to bigger type picnics - barbecues - like camp and church events. Dining al fresco is something I've grown to love more and more over the years, and we do eat out on our balcony a lot during the nice months, but still - I'd never just deliberately engaged in what I consider a true - spread out on the ground and kick back - picnic in the park. Strange, isn't it?

A picnic in the park was not something I'd thought of to do for a NEW at 42. It just happened - the way picnics probably should.

It was Thursday at work, and I had a few minutes to think. I'd run out for lunch that day and found that it was unbelievably gorgeous out. Even though I only had about 20 minutes, I sat out on the patio and enjoyed some warmth on my shoulders, while I quickly chowed down on my little lunch. In my moments of thought, I again wished R had been there with me at lunch to enjoy the wonderful weather together. I thought I'd maybe see if he wanted to go out somewhere with a nice patio for dinner... then I thought I wouldn't do that because he doesn't really love eating out that much, and my only motivation for eating out was to go somewhere outside, which is when the word "PICNIC!" jumped into my mind.

I didn't have time to think about it though because right then, R called and wondered if I wanted him to make the salmon for dinner (we always have salmon on hand - mmmm!). Without hesitation I said no... and told him I'd handle dinner. (He kindly typically puts weeknight dinners together because he's typically working his business from home during the week - it is so appreciated, especially considering how many people used to inadvertently give me the impression that a man would really only want me for my cooking.)

I clearly didn't put a lot of effort into presentation

I chose to not tell him what I had planned, which always makes him a bit nervous - though he's almost always loved my surprises.

And I clearly didn't put a lot of effort into good photography... but that's okay too

After that, I got back to work with picnic ideas dancing through my mind. On the way home, I stopped off and picked up the necessities: cheese, crackers, summer sausage, veggies, dip, fruit, and wine. Oh, and sardines! (That makes the picnic a double NEW. R loves sardines, but as much as I love fish, sardines and the like do not appeal to me, but I wanted to try them.)

Once I got home, R was curiously waiting to find out what I had up my sleeves. I told him we were walking to the park (a triple NEW) for a picnic - and I proceeded to prepare our meal. He loved the picnic idea, but not the walking to the park idea. If you know us and our exercise habits, you'll know how strange that is: me wanting to walk somewhere and he not... that's a bit upside down!

Here's the thing about that: R grew up (after coming to the U.S. at age 13) in inner city Boston in the early '70s. To say that there were some racial tensions would be a strong understatement. While he doesn't dwell on such things, he experienced some difficulties simply due to the color of his skin that are harder for him to shake. As much as he loves to walk and jog, he does not wish to do it on the roads. He's always been quite adamant about this, whereas I'd prefer to walk along the roads - to walk somewhere - versus driving somewhere to walk in circles... and so, he and I've never walked along the road together, except in Utila.

He tried to convince me to drive there - and he easily succeeded. Though my growing up was quite different, and I have never felt that I couldn't safely walk along a road, I understand his concerns. He's a man who has never let anything hold him back - certainly not fear, and I would never begrudge him this one concern.

Once we covered that and decided to drive, he stated we were going to walk to the park. Now I tried to convince him otherwise, but he was not to be swayed - he knew it's what I'd wanted to do, so he thought we should do it anyway. My arguing against it was ineffective - he was determined.

We packed up our goodies and grabbed a tablecloth and headed off to the park - along the road. He's not counting, but this would count as a NEW for him.

As we walked, he talked a bit more about those experiences in Boston. There were rocks and cans hurled, names called, and a slasher - a person who drove along the streets and pulled along side people of color to slash them with a knife. Not the kinds of experiences that one easily forgets. I encouraged him to not let fear win, even on this.

When it comes to fear, I know of which I speak.

Once we got to the park, we chose a spot right between the two lakes - on a little hill - where no one else had claimed. We spread out our tablecloth and kicked off our shoes. It was truly lovely.

Except maybe for the sardines. They weren't terrible, and I'm glad to have tried them - but... I'll be okay if I don't have them again.

Best yet, R thought it was truly lovely. He declared that this would not be our last picnic at the park.

My wonderfully hubby - I'm so incredibly lucky!

In fact, though not at the park, we had another picnic in our back yard the very next night.

The worth of certain things in life cannot be measured by any means known to humankind: the simple pleasure of nature between our toes, sun on our skin, the sharing of wholesome foods and wine, enjoying quiet moments with the ones we love, and working to overcome fears and negative memories together.

It only occurred to me afterward that this was actually a bona fide NEW.