They don't use those terms in the US?
I talked to some people from Michigan, they had come a few weeks back to the campsite. They had a special request for the trails, they wanted to trot and to canter, so Aimé took them.
They came back and took another trail, again trotting and cantering.
They were surprised at how little English people spoke here.
I worked in the office with Florence tonight, it wasn't very busy at all, so I wasn't really stressed. Maybe the fact I wasn't with Murielle helped a bit. I got very confused when one man came to buy firewood, actually the man from Michigan, and I remembered how much I suck at calculating how much change to give.
Éloïse and I went on a trail ride with two small children and their mother, so we both had a child with us on our horses. It was so SO so uncomfortable, no feet in the stirrups, sitting behind the saddle, half on the saddle pad, and not really on the smallest horse...All the way to the waterfall and back, up and down hills. When Beauty (my horse) started trotting to catch up a little, I died. Especially since her trot is not the most comfortable either. Plus I was holding the child, who was 5, who didn't know when his birthday was, who was called Olivier, who talked the WHOLE way, asked me every possible question on the face of the earth...I tried acting like one of those people who like kids, I guess it worked, he wouldn't shut up.
''Et quand ils marchent les chevaux, ça fait boom boom?''
''Est-ce qu'il fait caca?''
OH, the worse thing is when he started asking me about how he could defend himself against a grizzly bear. For some reason, he wouldn't understand that beating it with a stick wouldn't work.
''Mais si j'ai un GROS GROS bâton, un GROS bâton qu'il peut pas briser, est-ce que ça va marcher?''
''....Non.''
''Ok alors si j'ai un fusil je vais être correct?''
*imagine my face*
''Euh....Ben....Oui.''
Parents of the world:
How do you NOT slit your wrists?
I am getting quite good at finding stuff to make myself decent meals.
For breakfast, I remembered grand maman's trick for remembering a pancake recipe, though i'm quite certain I forgot some stuff.
1 cup of flour
1 egg
1 cup of milk
1 teaspoon of vanilla
1 teaspoon of baking soda....
I didn't have vanilla, so I didn't put any.
I took out my beautiful jar of nutella that i've been hiding in a safe place...Well, not that safe, but the fact there is some left leaves me to believe nobody has found it yet. I then took out my beautiful bag of frozen fruits and some cream, and had a Chez Cora breakfast.
They die when they see me eat nutella. I kindly remind them that I die every time they double-dip their spoons into the nutella, or use their fingers to clean out the jar...Éloïse used her fingers to take butter the other day.
''I saw that.''
''...Merde.''
I ate late enough, so I just had an early supper.
Jeanne cooked ribs in a pan, and made the cannellonis in the toaster oven as I had told her to do, and I made myself pasta with tomatoes and onions.
Later on, after work in the office was done, I had the rest of the cannellonis, and the rest of the frozen fruit.
Jeanne made a gigantic mess because she made ....Des pommes d'amour? Apples with sugar on the outside, which is actually supposed to be caramel but...You guessed it, we have no caramel. I remember we used to eat those when we were younger.
Anyways, hers tasted like crap, and there was sugar on the ceiling, countertops, table, my hands, plates etc... And with no hot water to clean it, Florence had to scrub away for a long while to get it all off.
Earlier today when I was in the barn, I heard a funny noise coming from the saddle storage area, so I went to check it out, and I saw there was a small bird trying to get out by the window. It kept smashing into it, so I tried to catch it, but it kept wriggling out, much more than Poosh could. It finally fell into a riding helmet, and I got it in my hands, and let it go outside. It was so soft, and I was surprised it didn't bite me. I wish someone had had a camera, because it was such a pretty moment.
That's what sucks about being a photographer, you get good pictures of everyone else but yourself, though I must say I can't complain that much because Éloïse has been getting quite a few good shots of me.
I have to go with Florence soon to take pictures of her, because the others have some, and she only has one, and she deserves them.
Good night.