9 PM Sunday
Dearest little love:
I adore you. I'll be glad when I get home to you.
Today is rather warm + humid here. I read the Sunday Times + took the noon train, then talked with a young Army doctor who had made an appointment with me. I went to dinner with Alex, John Edsall, Joel H., and Jack Williams — I ate soft-shell crabs. I've been talking to Alex — he saw Peter about noon yesterday, and says that he looks fine.
Last night I decided to go to a movie. That was a mistake. It was a musical comedy, but misnamed in both respects. The star was the girl who was in the one we saw — wild west, saloons, etc.
The last Life has three 2-page color ads ^ and one 1-page about power mowers. Dr. Slobad in Dallas says that rotary mower will cut weeds as well as grass. I've written several places for literature. We need a power-propelled rotary; the Toro Co's is $219.95.
I still have 5/12 of this trip to go. I'm tired of being away from you.
I have just seen Herman + Edna Schlesinger. They drove from Chicago — no accident this time. Herman said that Phoebe's sister had a stroke + is an invalid, + that Phoebe takes care of her. Thorfin is still running his gov't contract.
Tomorrow afternoon is my symposium. Alex is the first speaker; then Crick, then Watson, etc.
I think I'll take a bath + go to bed.