July 31, 1939.

My Sweetheart -

Wasn’t that funny that our Sunday letters both began about the same. You know about getting home at 6:30. One thing I see you need me for is to keep you awake while you drive. I’m so thankful you got home safely. And darling I enjoyed your visit more than you can imagine. Did I seem any better to you this time than the time before? You looked better than ever to me. I love you so much.

Today I got a letter from you, one from Sam and a lovely card from Caroline Hein from Elizabethtown. Tell Mother to thank her for remembering me -- it was so sweet of her. I enjoyed Sam’s letter too, and I know I’ll enjoy the enclosures. I haven’t had time to read them yet. I’m so glad he wrote.

I just looked out the window to see what the excitement was this time. It turned out to be a nice sized garter snake attracting attention.

Darling, I believe that cream has helped my face a little already, for which I am so glad. That’s one thing I certainly am self conscious about -- having eruptions of any kind on my face. (I am now listening to Carrie Jacobs Bond’s “I Love You Truly” - and thinking of you, my dear).

Last evening I put one of my girdles to soak so it wouldn’t be so hard to wash, then I washed it this morning. By late afternoon it was dry and right after supper I did some sweating on it. It needs some more but I’ll leave that till tomorrow. I don’t dare to too much. Darling, I should have a better girdle at home; you know, the one with the tricky garter. I doubt if I can wear the one with the piece in the back and the other one seems pretty big, but I’m going to wear it anyway. But I’m sure I have another one at home. Don’t spend too much time looking for it, dear, I know how busy you are without having to look for a girdle, of all things.

The candy tastes just as good as before. Isn’t that strange that I -- who never cared two hoots about candy -- should get an appetite for it at this late date?

I’ll be so glad to get another cotton Kimono. A silk one isn’t very practical here. Lots of times I get my treatments in kimonos so you see where a cotton one is more comfortable. I change clothes more times a day than I eat. In the morning I put on my robe until about ten o’clock when I take my bath and put on my pajamas that Verna sent me (they are clean) if not I must put my nightie and robe on again until after dinner (and a little rest) when I dress and go outdoors until nearly five. Then I come up to my room and undress again. Usually I get into my p.j.s because they are cooler than a nightie and a robe; at bed time I get into my nightie again. That above gives me a quite a bit of exercise. I like it tho!

Did I tell you about seeing Mrs. Marten again? You remember she was the temporary night nurse I liked so much. Well, the other evening I was in the bathroom washing when who should come in but she! She put her arms around me and kissed me and said how glad she was to see me looking so well and that she had been thinking so much about me. I certainly was glad to see her again, she is so nice.

Yesterday after you left I sat on the porch awhile with the ones who were there when you and I were out. But this is what I’m around to -- Mrs. Johnson was telling about some one who liked to talk a lot and she called it “chin-chopping”. Isn’t that cute?

My but this letter is growing! But I just felt like chin-chopping with you tonight.

I had to stop and get my back rubbed with alcohol. It always feels so good.

Isn’t it strange that now I seem to write this way with almost as much ease as I did the other day -- and there for a while I couldn’t write this way unless I concentrated solely on the way in which I was using the pen.

You said your Dad is anxious to see me -- I’m just as anxious to see him. Naturally I think about him a lot and wonder how he would enjoy the scenery. I guess by the time you receive this letter you will have a new brother-in-law. I certainly wish them a long time of happiness together.

How is Vernie coming along? Did you ask Mr.Kilgore what I told you Sunday? I remembered another thing -- the grandmother did hemstitching. All this was in the fall of 1926. He probably wouldn’t remember a snip of a kid (if it is he) who thought his daughter had a good looking father. Ha ha.

Looks like this one turned out to be a “whopper” too. I won’t dare make it three pages or I might be told to cut them shorter. I guess that wouldn’t happen.

Goodnight, darling. It’s getting so dark I can scarcely see any more and since my lamp is on the radio it doesn’t do much good.

Again -- goodnight, sweetheart, and the pleasantest dreams.

Your

Nonie