Getting back to nature...or being eaten alive in Vermont

Memorial weekend is my favorite holiday because it signals the start of summer and most likely the end of snowstorms (I say most likely because with recent weather phenomenons you never know). With summer knocking at the door, my brother decided to organize a trip to the outdoors, good ol' Vermont.

We set out at 11pm on Friday night, me, Adrian and my brother and his girlfriend to rid ourselves of the city grit and become one with the trees. While leaving at 11pm resulted in no holiday traffic, there is nothing fun about arriving at your destantion at the crack of dawn. By the time we arrived at the wrong house, then arrived at the right house, unpacked the car, identified a dozen unoccupied mouse traps and watched my un-handy brother give instructions on how to turn on the water to my relatively handy husband it was 5:30am. It is painful to try to fall asleep when your body clock is set to wake within two hours.

By the time we woke up the day was gone. My husband was frantically trying to figure out how to connect the TV to the satellite so he could watch the Champions League final. Luckily, it was raining most of the day so I did not mind watching soccer (football) and found myself gorging on hummus and salsa.

Our isolated cabin with "No Service"

Since we were deep within the forest, so deep the GPS was unsure where we were located, our cell phones did not work. Not one or two bars--just "No Service." Between the rain and soccer I was dying for a little YouTube and Facebook. I am also notorious for checking my phone and answering work emails regardless of my location. I answered a work email as my husband and I entered the courthouse for our wedding and I am sure if I was scaling a mountain I would still reply back to my boss. No service felt a bit unnverving. It also felt like the start of a scary movie where no one could call for help. Hello Jason!

We decided to leave our nature cave for dinner and landed at The Garlic. The name was true to its food. Everything was CAKED in garlic from bread to appetizers to entrees. After awhile we could not tell the food apart because it all just tasted like garlic...even the mousse cake. We came in two couples and left as four cloves of garlic.

After our garlic experience...smelling good

On Sunday, we awoke to hundreds of bug bites (why do bugs bite ankles and between the fingers? Are mosquitos just assholes and want to bite you in the most inconvenient areas?). I sustained multiple bites from a variety of bugs. I probably loss over a quart of blood in my sleep from these creepy crawlers.

To take advantage of the outdoors and actually do something other than itch my ankles, we wanted to go hourseback riding. Correction, three of us wanted to go ride horses, my husband was not keen on the idea. Adrian had never been on a horse and said the only thing he ever rode was a Lambretta or a donkey when he was three. We convinced him and ventured off to find some ponies.

Did I mention that my un-handy brother was also directionally challenged? Even after the lady from the grocery store clearly said, "Make a left at the end of the road and you can't miss the stables." He managed to make a right and take us 40 min and many miles out of our way. Once we realized this navigational error we  called the ranch to schedule our trail ride.

The ranch receptionist asked about our level of exptertise. Not to brag, but I was quite the equestrian in my teen days and I wanted to make sure that the ranch receptionist was aware so I obnoxiously screamed in the phone "professional." Not even sure what a professional horse back rider would mean. Then the ranch receptionist made a HUGE error and frankly executed a female "no no". She asked for everyone's height and weight.

Now I was in the company of three very physically fit people and anyone who knows me understands that while I am secure in my personality I am incredibly insecure about my physcial state. But I would imagine being surrounded by my body-building, quasi-vegan brother--his very attractive and slender girlfriend--and my husband who runs marathons--the average physically fit person would not like to declare his/her weight. I am below average just to give a gauge; I am not overweight, I am just overcurvy.

So everyone shouted out their weight as if they were lottery numbers to the cruel, inhumane ranch receptionist and I said, "Are you kidding me? Do we anticipate the horse cannot balance my size that we have to use an oxen? Will everyone be on ponies and I will be in the Oregon Trail cart with my oxen?"

My un-handy, directionally challenged brother sweetly said a weight that was significantly less then what I am. I am sure they had the most dainty horse ready based on those inaccurate measurements.

I would assume that they could gauge which females were pony princesses and which were ready for clydesdale mamonths. But again I am sure the average horse can handle me--I am sure they would prefer my light-weight, marathon runner husband but their beastly backs could deal with me.

Third Reich Cowboy

We ended up going to a different ranch that did not ask for our weight. We enjoyed the ride and my anti-horse husband seemed to enjoy the experience as well. He actually looked like a Aryan cowboy ready to lasso calf or be the poster cowboy for the Third Reich (I am Jewish so I can make those jokes).

The rest of the time we bonded by getting attacked by swarms of nats. I am positive that several have parked in my ear and are setting up permanent camp in the warmth of my brain. Adrian and I even managed to win a few games of  couples beer pong. My strategy was not to drink the beer as beer, especially dirty beer pong beer, tastes like pee pee.

So that was my weekend in Vermont. Other than the six hour trip back and the countless of mosquito bites (some in not PG areas) it was a fun way to spend the holiday. We were extremely happy to find out that while it poured during our weekend away the tri-state area enjoyed ample sunshine and pool perfect weather. The joys of driving several hours to greet the rain.

Being a bear...how I attracted Adrian