Nice Ash!

 This building right here is the Flynt Center of Early New England Life.  Its special exhibitions include the Helen Geier Flynt Textile Gallery, a wood and furniture gallery, an "attic" with all sorts of artifacts from 18th and 19th century Deerfield life, and a powder horn collection.  First things first.

So as you can see in the lower right hand corner of the first picture, there is a big lawn in front of the museum.  Instead of walking along the path, which would've taken twice as long, I goaded Lizzie into following me and cutting across the lawn.  I jokingly talked about how Danielle, whom you'll recall from real life or from the Vegas post, never walks over grass--she always uses the walking paths.  Anyway, we went into the museum, first into the wood and furniture gallery, which is set off from the main lobby.  We were admiring the tea tables, and this fabulous tapestry of a sawmill that looks like it's vomiting up planks (BLLEEAAURRGGHHHH) when a museum supervisor came into the room, and started trailing us.  Is it because we walked on the grass?  Did he know we were ruffians?  We milled about (HA HA) commenting, maturely, as we do on things like "crotch grain wood" (crotch wood is the wood below the "y" of the trunk, which is supposed to have a lot of figured grain.  Thanks, internet!) and how unattractive the portraits of the early settlers were, etc, etc., mostly for the benefit of our shadow.  Having had our fill of wood (!) we went over to the textiles gallery, which is also in a separate space.  We waited patiently for the museum employee to follow us, and he did, about a minute later.  He was

 trying so hard to make it seem like he wasn't tailing us, and it was really sad/endearing.  I almost feel bad that we didn't give him any reason to yell at us, because I bet he loves doing that.  Despite my desire to put on this fabulous French-court dress, I refrained, fearing that the panniers (the big baskets on the hips) would catch on the door frame, hindering my escape.  The clothing, for the most part, was exceedingly tiny, which makes sense when you are literally working your ass off.

Lizzie and I then went up to the attic, and sadly, since everything upstairs was in glass cases, our friend stayed behind.  Please note that as we were leaving the building, a large group of older women went in the textile gallery and WERE NOT FOLLOWED by the guard.  Old ladies are forever stealing shit and putting it in their purses.  Those gals probably treated the gallery like the muffin bar at the Old Country buffet--grab those shoes, roll 'em up in a napkin and shove 'em in your pocket, Effie! It's part of the entrance fee!