Ah, a blissful Memorial Day picnic in the mountains, at a cherry orchard. Hot enough to feel like the official start of summer, but still a good 10 degrees cooler than Richmond. We sweaty cherry-pickers find a rock wall, shaded by tall trees and cooled by a hilltop breeze. Sandwiches, water bottles come out. Ah, life is good.
Of course, the rock wall is beside a few old grave sites. And the breeze...well, I realized halfway through the meal that the interesting aroma I occasionally detected was the result of our picnic being situated just downwind of two port-a-potties. My filters being what they are, I spoke this thought aloud, of course. A few minutes later...
Cait: I just saw you make your "ew, port-a-potty face again."
Dan: I didn't notice until you said something. Thanks, you pooped in my sandwich.
Me: Actually, it's more like 600 other people pooped in your sandwich. And really, it's more like moist urinal cake, anyway.
This whole cherry-picking excursion was about seizing the day and living in the moment and making family memories here and now. So really, mission accomplished. You're welcome, kids.