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PLAYMATE ON A PICNIC
a pulchritudinous p.s. to mr. Mario's recent essay
Last month, in a tasty treatise on totable treats entitled The Picnic Papers, Thomas Mario outlined an array of delectables for outdoor enjoyment. You'll remember he talked about Hot Clam Madrilene, Cold Glazed Duckling, O
...nion Turnovers, Frogs' Legs Provençale, icy thermoses of vodka martinis, etc. It was an appetizing essay, but in our opinion, Tom didn't place quite enough emphasis on the prime prerequisite for picnic pleasure -- the company you choose to enjoy it with. Take, for example, Myrna Weber. Myrna, a fetching Floridian just turned 19, is a sunny-tempered, sun-toasted miss who would enhance any fun-function, be it cocktail party, tête-a-tête dinner, or -- as in the case in point -- a private picnic. And a picnic is a picnic whether it takes place in a sylvan glade or on a sandy shore. The sandy shore got our vote for an August picnic with Myrna: this particular shore, far from the madding crowd, provided plenty of privacy for the healthful, pleasurable pursuit of over-all sunning and swimming. Later, near twilight time, we roasted hot dogs over an open fire. They couldn't hope to measure up to Frogs' Legs Provençale, but with Myrna there to share them with us, we couldn't have cared less.
