I've posted so much about the Genesee Country Village & Museum that both of you are probably sick of hearing about it. That is unfortunate because I was there last weekend and I will be there again next weekend.
Next weekend, I'll actually be sleeping there, in a pioneer cabin, in a bed I've keyed myself, on a straw mattress, wearing some sort of chemise/nightgown thingy probably, with my stomach full of wholesome pioneer food, my nostrils full of woodsmoke, and my brain full of migraine (just guessing). I am both excited and extremely concerned.
I am concerned because last weekend I hid, in a nook in a brick wall, covered with leaves, a bag of Cheetos. My concern is that the heavy rain we are currently experiencing may uncover them. My friend, whom I shall refer to as Subterfuge (kind of a nice name for a girl, actually), hid hers much more wisely, in a location I shall not give away until it has been retrieved and consumed.
Break for unrelated photos of natural dyes and rainbow-colored yarn:
The responsibility for there being two bags of Cheetos stashed in a nineteenth-century village falls to the Picnicker, for it was her idea. Sort of. The conversation went as follows:
Me: I'm having anxiety suddenly about being a pioneer. There will be no tooth-brushing. And I won't be able to wash my face, so I'll get a horrible horrible breakout.
Picnicker: This is unacceptable. What you need to do is stash toiletries somewhere in the village and retrieve them later.
Me: YOU'RE A GENIUS. I'M STASHING CHOCOLATE AND CHEETOS.
Picnicker: Wait, your priorities just changed a whole lot.
Me: YES THEY DID.
So if anyone is to be arrested for littering, it clearly should not be me.
Break for my obsession with pottery, crockery, and antique bottles:
Hiding contraband Cheetos is actually not the most scandalous thing I've done in this village. You see, I have this other friend. Her name is Kindred Spirit. Once, while we were attending an historically-accurate dinner at the Hosmer Inn, we snuck off and drank maple whiskey behind the outhouse.
There's no outhouse, it was just the bathrooms, and it wasn't much maple whiskey, it was a couple of swigs. I mean who are we, Diana Barry? It was very civilized.
I don't have any photos from the experience, but I have these photos of poultry:
This is off-topic, but have a look at this here duck. This sort of duck is called a "runner." But it looks for all the world like a Gorey creature. If Edward Gorey had invented ducks, they would look exactly like this. But they'd be wearing Converses.
Anyway, Kindred Spirit is obviously a very good influence, as is the Picnicker, as is Subterfuge. In fact, all of my friends are Good Eggs, including the ones with whom I almost got arrested once while Pursuing Art, but that's another story entirely. Although I anticipate being fed quite adequately this weekend, I am looking forward to recovering the contraband by lantern-light and then getting rid of the evidence under cover of darkness. It's good to have an occasional interlude of swashbuckling adventure in your life. Keeps the spirits up.
Subterfuge's Cheetos do not apear in this photo, don't bother looking.
I will report back on the success of Mission Anachronism next week.
In the meantime, a pinecone, just for you:
Photos of the Genesee Country Village & Museum by me.
I do not know who put the pinecone there.