A Picnic kind of day . . .

picnic (noun): an occasion when you take a meal with you to eat outside in an informal way, or the food itself

As a picnic afficionado I have enjoyed many outdoor meals in my life. A picnic can be something as simple as grabbing a few pieces of bread and heading off on your bicycle with some well loved friend or as complicated as one of Hyacinth Bucket's reparian riverside delights. As a child we never went on many picnics as a family, unless you considered Sunday School picnics. Those were special occasions with pony rides and races and prizes . . . free hotdogs, all the soda pop you could drink and all the ice cream you could eat. I don't think my mother enjoyed eating outdoors. She had a bug thing.

I remember a particular picnic as a child when, myself and a friend, threw together two peanut butter sandwiches, grabbed a mayonaise jar full of cool-aid and took off on our bicycles for the great outdoors. We pedaled our little legs off and found a particularly beautiful spot on a hillside overlooking an old country church. Sitting in the grass, insects humming, a gentle breeze ruffling our hair and cooling our overheated bodies, legs aching from what seemed like miles of dirt road covered, I don't think there was ever any finer peanut butter sandwich eaten on earth, or more appreciated.

Up on that hillside we shared our hopes and dreams of what we thought our lives would become, we laughed at things we thought were funny at the time, and we busied ourselves in the innocence that only exists in childhood minds and souls. Satisfied and content with the carefree woes of childhood . . . we gorged ourselves afterwards on green apples. I remember laying in bed that night, sun burnt and tired . . . yet happy . . . and feeling that all was right in the world, despite my tummy that ached and my sore legs.

Life is a bit like a picnic. We head out on our bicycles and pedal our legs off . . . sometimes seemingly getting nowhere, but . . . the moments we set aside to sit on the hill and rest and reflect . . . the moments we gorge ourselves with our hopes and dreams and accomplishments, warm memories . . . those are the peanutbutter sandwiches, the picnic treats, the rewards of a life well spent. I read somewhere once that it is only in the giving away of our lives that we really begin to live them. That is my mantra, my motto, my raison d'etre...who could ask for anything more!



*Oatmeal Kiss Cookies*
Makes 6 dozen cookies

This is the perfect cookie to take on a picnic . . . or not. They're pretty good in the cookie jar as well. Crisp and oaty and moreish.

1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup shortening
1 cup sugar
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 eggs
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 1/4 cups quick-cooking oats
1 cup chopped nuts
72 milk chocolate Hershey's chocolate kisses (if you are in the UK and cannot get chocolate kisses, chocolate buttons work just fine!)

Preheat oven to 190*C/375*F.

In a mixing bowl, cream the butter, shortening and sugars. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.

Combine the flour, baking soda and salt; gradually add to creamed mixture. Stir in oats and nuts.
Roll into 1 inch balls and place 2 inches apart on ungreased baking sheets. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until lightly browned.

Immediately press a chocolate kiss in the center of each cookie. Lift off the cookie sheet onto wire racks to finish cooling.