I am making very little progress on my next cross stitch venture, a copy of the one completed before, with different colors and different letters, for Sita and Jim; after they get married Tessa and Steve will get one too. At the pace I am going they will have years to go before I can start the last one.
I keep undoing the work, much like Penelope but for different reasons – mostly my inability to distinguish three threads from two – it’s a vision thing I fear. We are also very busy with vacation.
Today we went horseback riding with an outfit that deserves an unhappy face on their website for customer satisfaction. They blamed the federal government logging activities for the fact that our 2 hour trail ride was for more than 1 hour along a wide unpaved and boring road, going at a very slow pace.
Sita and I had hoped they’d let us trot or canter a bit but the guide lady – who had only horse skills but no people skills, wouldn’t let us. It was an excruciatingly boring ride. We had to ride single file so we could not really talk with one another. I tried to make the best of it by meditating a bit while staring at the black flies that were pestering our horses. We did not protest when we returned to the makeshift stables before our time was up.
Tessa, the only first time rider in our party, was thrown off her horse because upon our return to our the horses grazing grounds two of them got too close to each other, rearing up and scaring themselves and their riders. Jim held on to the reins and saddle but Tessa let go and landed with a thud. The staff had not been paying any attention to who could dismount and who could not on their own, nor where each horse was grazing.
It was a painful parting with my hard earned danger pay money to fulfill our financial obligation for this rather unsuccessful outing. Axel had chosen wisely not to go along and had spent an agreeable time in the green mountains enjoying the sun and the views.
We then splurged in Bob’s Diner further up the road on excellent roadside food, including one-dollar Pabst Blue Ribbon pints that served perfectly to quench our thirst. On our way home we stopped at Stratton Village, a place that was dead as a door nail without the snow and skiers.
Back at the B&B we relaxed our sore bottoms in the hot tub while Steve went about his farm chores. It is amazing how often and quickly it is milking/feeding time again.
I could a dinner of leftovers while everyone else watched the Stanley Cup projected on the high wall by a gadget that turns your home into a cinema – there is no escaping the giant TV projection with this thing, my worst nightmare – that everyone else liked a lot.
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