• Flea Market Love Letters

August 3, 1939.




My Darling --


Today I was practically swamped with mail -- two letters from you and one from Lewis besides my paper, which had Boris and Bick;s marriage in it.


I was thrilled with your letter. You have no idea how much you really tell me. Isn’t the house coming along just too, too marvelous? Honestly, darling, it sounds like a house in a fairy tale that was made just to fit the hero and heroine exactly -- you know one like a fairy god mother would create with the wave of her magic wand. Ah the rate you are going ti will be ready to move into by the middle of the month, won’t it? You said about painting the garage interior gray instead of green under the circumstances I don’t blame you since you already have enough of that color. Isn’t it a shame we can’t manage the Venetian blinds but that’s alright -- maybe we wouldn’t like them anyway (sour grapes, you know) That price is astoundingly reasonable, I still can’t understand it.


Those banisters and handrails simply intrigue me (and this [en won’t even write this way any more). And isn’t that smell that we have


Surprise!


Then iron thru latches on the cellar doors too. I thought that sooner or later I’d have to resort to ye good old pencil -- I’m sorry, but you could see how the pen was spreading out all over the place [August 4, 1939]


This is morning now I’ll say “Goodmorning Sweetheart” you see last night I didn’t get it finished. Mrs. Lutz, the night nurse, talked with me until 10:20 last night and we must have “light out” at 9. You ask me if Ii sleep well. Yes, I sleep pretty well once i get to sleep and I think i go off to the Land of Nod around 12 o’clock now. Some times it seems awful long from 9 to 12 or thereabouts. So far I’ve dreamed every night -- but after what I went through I don’t mind it so much. This morning I’m still sleepy. When i finish your letter I’m going to take another nap before my bath. In the morning I sleep until 8 o’clock.


Yesterday I was weighed again and guess -- just guess -- how much I weigh. 97 ¼ lbs! Imagine, I’ve gained 20 ¼ lbs since I’m here and that’s less than two months. Everyone is so pleased. Dr. Fuller said if I keep on I’ll have to get all my clothes from Lane and Branch (that’s what it sounded liked) in Philadelphia -- they specialize in maternity clothes! He’s the limit.


Darling, have you ever heard of “The Consumer Inside”? It’s a monthly magazine or rather, a bulletin. It tells you what product on the market is best and why. And it’s amazing how low some popular products are listed. They have anything from tennis racquets and razor blades to automobiles (second hand and otherwise) and pianos. Miss Sower gave me this years copies of them to look at and if I still have them until Sunday I’ll let you have a look at them if you want to. The first thing I looked at was autos -- but I’ll let you look at that yourself you’ll understand it better then. All information is supposed to be confidential to subscribers. It costs $3.00 a year and I think it is more than worth it. You see they can’t publish any of their findings in other magazines because other magazines depend on some of these products for their advertising and naturally won’t accept anything which would hazard their existence. One would certainly learn the real value of merchandise. I gave it the incorrect name. It’s “Consumers Research Bulletin.”


Lewis didn’t say much in his letter. I guess he just didn’t know how I would be -- but he’s not coming East. He said he is just going to Chicago again. I don’t know why he isn’t coming. You can read the letter Sunday. I guess he’ll answer tomorrow when I don’t write to my darling. Do you realize I wrote every day this week? This week went by faster than any since I’m here.


I was down stairs again last evening for supper and stayed down until 8 o’clock I guess as long as I’m a good girl I’ll be allowed to eat down there in the evening. I eat with Mrs. Jackson. George took Miss Schabla’s place this week so we had a change in our bridge group. Goodness me, I’m at the bottom of this page already. This writing is so awful I don’t know if you can read it or not. I can’t write with a pencil no how.


I’m just living for Sunday now when I see you. We seem to have more and more things to talk about -- and I think the idea of your taking off a few days when I come home is the swellest idea ever. And you do deserve it!! Love, Nonie


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