Priya texted me in May: "I don't want a big dinner this year. I want to sit outside and not pay for valet." That was all the planning brief I needed. She teaches third grade and the school year was nearly over, so she was tired of noise and tired of spending. I had just made the last payment on my credit card. A picnic was the obvious answer for both of us.
We did it on Sunday, June 1, at Gillson Park in Wilmette, about a ten-minute walk from my parents' house. Five of us: Priya, two teacher friends of hers, a friend from her building and me. I offered to handle the food as my gift, and I gave myself a $40 limit. I came in at $38.
Where the $38 went
I did all the shopping at Trader Joe's on Saturday afternoon. The receipt, more or less:
- Four premade sandwiches and wraps, cut in half so everyone could try two kinds: $17
- Strawberries and a bag of snap peas: $4
- Chips and a tub of dip: $6
- Two bottles of sparkling lemonade: $5
- A bunch of flowers for the birthday girl: $6
That's $38. My mom donated a pan of lemon bars, which she insists cost her nothing because she "had everything already." She also loaned me the big plaid blanket that has been in our hall closet since I was in grade school, and my dad dug out a cooler and two old folding chairs from the garage.
Two of Priya's friends brought a bag of ice and a speaker, and nobody asked anyone to split anything. That was the nicest part. A picnic doesn't come with a bill at the end, so there's no awkward moment where someone does math on their phone.
Picking the spot
Gillson is a big park on the lake, with a beach that charges fees during the summer season and plenty of open grass that doesn't. We set up on the grass near the bluff, close enough to hear the water and far enough from the playground to hear each other. Parking near the beach can fill up on warm days, so the people driving came early and the rest of us walked.
A note for anyone planning the same thing: our side of the lake faces east, so the sun doesn't technically set over the water. It drops behind the trees and town. What you get instead is the sky over the lake turning pink and orange, and the water going silver, then dark blue. Priya called it "the best free light show on the North Shore," and she wasn't wrong.
What made it feel like a birthday
I was a little worried a picnic would feel like a downgrade. Last year we did dinner at a restaurant in the city for her birthday, and my share with a drink and tip was about $65. I don't remember much about it except the noise.
This felt more personal. I wrote a card with a list of ten things I liked about rooming with her at ISU, including the time she labeled every shelf in our fridge. We put a candle in a lemon bar. Her friend from the building brought a frisbee that nobody could throw well, which was its own entertainment. We stayed for almost four hours, until the mosquitoes found us.
Here's my small honest moment: part of why I suggested a picnic was money, and I said so when she asked if I was sure. She laughed and said she'd been about to suggest the same thing for the same reason. Being upfront about a budget with a good friend has never once gone badly for me. It's the pretending that costs money.
A few things I'd repeat:
Shop the day before, not the morning of, so you aren't rushing. Cut sandwiches in half so people can mix. Bring a trash bag, wet wipes and a roll of paper towels. Check the weather twice, and have a backup plan. Ours was my parents' back porch.
I'd also skip one thing. I bought cups I didn't need, since everyone just drank from the bottles. Next time, no cups.
Total cost for a birthday that everyone talked about all week: $38, plus a lemon bar debt I now owe my mom. She'd like it paid in the form of me doing the dishes, which seems fair.
