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139 January 24 - Wed. 8:00 P.M. Here's another of my gray hairs! My dearest darling: If you weren't you I’d think maybe you were holding out on me - no mail again - four days straight. This time I don't even have a reserve to reread. If tomorrow is mailess, I guess I'll start rereading. Bob Falk phoned about an hour ago - said he was in Carmel this evening, and asked if he could stop by. I asked him to supper, but luckily he was eating out with some of the men. Lucky because all I had on hand was bacon and egg. Had a very disturbing dream last night. Dreamt I was dreaming of you - you came home unexpectedly and crawled into bed with me - then I woke up and you really had come home, and then I really woke up to discover it was only a dream I was dreaming about. Took me a few minutes to collect myself and realize what it was all about. Meant to tell you before this that I had gotten hold of the Oct. ’44 [pg 2] ‘National Geographic’ at the library, and enjoyed the article thoroughly. Loved the little Japanese baby sitting on his mother's lap, and noticed that another child in one of the group pictures was carrying a bag just like the one you sent Wendy. It rained today so we couldn't go riding - tomorrow we hope to play tennis but doubt that we will be able to, because the sky is quite overcast tonight. Robert has been quite ill with a bad cold and inflamed ear. Helen had Dr. Lusiguan for him this afternoon. Wendy has been awfully cute today - she wrote you a letter this afternoon. She can't decide whether she’d like to chew on the pencil or write with it, and usually does a little of both. Had a letter from Jean this morning asking how I thought it would be if she came out here. Don't know, but imagine the letter was a result of a talk session with Doug - who mentioned while he was here, that it would probably be good for me to have Jean [pg 3] with me - In the state I'm in now, I don't think it would be a good idea - be that as it may, the job and rooming situation here in Carmel are impossible. More later - 10:10 P.M. Bob is here together with a Lt. Dave Frank Dickson - they’re ‘devouring’ your typewritten letters - and I'm writing to leave them at peace. They say life at Ord is strictly S.F. and pretty hellish if it is any consolation to you. Bob confided that he wished he was stuck in Washington. I fixed drinks, and we have just about half inch of our Green Label left. Darling - don't be surprized if your typed letters make you famous. It's been suggested that I type a copy and send it over to Ord, but I won't do so without your permission. Bob is sitting in the easy chair - Dave near the radio, and I am crosslegged on the floor in front of the fireplace dressed in my tan flannel shirt, blue slacks, and striped sandals (Not the drink honey - just sleepy. Oh how I wish just you and I were here in front of the fire. How long do you suppose it will be before that comes true? They've got such a lot of Mil. Gov't. men with nothing to do. Why don't they send you back and someone else our for variety's sake. I’d love to know if there is a letter at the P.O. Love you darling so much. Bobby
