February 6, 1942

Friday night
February 6, 1942
I do have a most dreadful time keeping up with the task I have assigned to myself – this task of keeping up with this horrible war and tying in a few of the daily happenings around the old homestead.
Another letter from my baby and what a joy! To have her rattle on more like her old self. They must have settled down a little more to normal existence since last she wrote. She's coming home! But she doesn't know when – but soon. Then I'll really begin to live again. I don't dare think about it. I did hope, however, that she and Bert could come home together. It would be so much nicer for them, but I keep forgetting, this is war. I do hope she gets into some kind of work immediately so the time will pass so much more quickly for her and the waiting for Bert's return won't seem so endless. They have gone through so many vicissitudes in their brief marriage that it breaks my heart to think of them being separated for even a short time. But I'm sure they both have the right sort of courage – they have proved that already – and things are bound to adjust themselves soon.
Am making a little sweater for Stephen for a Valentine gift. It's all finished except for one sleeve and I hope to make that tomorrow. I'm going to tie it up with a lollipop and all sorts of silly things.
It's been quite rainy for several days and there's been quite a gale blowing. The constant downpour has caused the Napa River to overflow its banks and three homes up at Mount Davidson toppled down the hill. Pops and I were just remarking a few Sundays ago about the precarious position of some of the houses perched upon the hills.
The country is still laughing about the "Bundles for Congressmen" even to the point of some of the people donating a slightly used onion, a glass eye and Sally Rand offers "her last stitch."
"Eleanor" has stuck her neck out good and plenty as a high up in the Office of Civilian Defense. She was raked over the coals in fine fashion in Congress today and I don't know but that there may be some justification for a portion of the adverse criticism. However, the green God of envy and jealousy is such a wretched creature that creeps out in so many places, it's pretty hard to tell just what is the true situation.
Dorothea was out Wednesday night and she was so keyed up I thought she was going to blow a fuse. Evidently she's pretty nervous and tired. She's at the stage now where she'd like to "bolt" if she had the money. Maxine's fiancé is getting on her nerves, I think, because he hasn't enough money to suit the requirements. I'm afraid somebody is riding for a fall.
Ressa was here last night. We had a very pleasant evening, as usual, and of course the was "proed and corned?" as no news commentators ever did.