I've lost count of the picnics I've enjoyed out bushwalking, cycling, kayaking or horse riding.
I've never stolen a pic. Have not even watched a pic stolen by someone else. Our OS is not compatible.
I can, I'm ashamed to say, be a nitpicker. I'm overly pedantic about semantics. If I don't understand something my husband says, (he has a gift for vagueness,) I'm apt to ask him to clarify - and unfortunately for us both, he always resents it. Once, on a Vipassana course that was run at a boy scout camp, I sat in meditation while a nit bit my scalp. At a time like that, sensations become magnified as if under a microscope. Finally, relaxing my self-discipline during a rest break, the nit bit again, and fast as lightning I caught it. I crushed it between my fingernails for a moment, and then tossed it to a sparrow that was foraging in the garden below. Then I had to deal with the remorse; I'd broken my vow against taking life.
