Sleuthery

I've got not so good news from the scale to report this morning, ladies. I weighed in at 150 today - just like last Saturday - which makes it the first weigh-in since early August which hasn't been a success. Well, at least I didn't gain anything... Truth be told, I was a bit sloppy about my eating earlier this week and I haven't been drinking my full 64 oz. of water each day. But as I looked down at this scale this morning and saw the very same numbers that flashed across the scale last weekend, I felt a renewed commitment to my reducing and fitness plans. After all, 117 is still a looooooooooooong way off and there isn't any time to lose!

Maybe it's the change in seasons. This is the first week I've been able to turn off the air conditioning at home. Yesterday, I actually got to open the windows in my apartment and leave them open all day long. I got home from work and everything just smelled so much fresher when I walked in the door. It's much, much darker on Monday mornings when I get up early to do my weekly wash. Darker mornings and cooler temperatures are messing with my workout schedule a bit, too. Instead of having to be at the park by 6 a.m. on Saturdays and Sundays, I need to wait until at least 6:30 or 7 unless I want to be freezing in the dark! And it's just about cool enough to be able to walk outdoors again at lunchtime on weekdays. Temps only hit the 80s - sometimes low 90s - these days. Autumn in the Southwest.

A friend and I were talking about my blind date last week and I realized something that still makes me laugh. My self esteem is so healthy these days that it never even occurred to me that the emailer wouldn't be totally into me. Isn't that crazy? I was so focused on whether I liked him or not, that it never even entered my mind that he wouldn't be crazy about me! So when he didn't contact me soon after that coffee date, it caught me completely off-guard. Just to give you an update, he emailed me three days later. A quick email about a book I'd mentioned when we met each other. I wrote him back the next day - which must have been several days ago now - and I haven't heard from him since. I do believe I've been fizzled!!! This is perfectly okay, but it's just funny to me that I didn't remotely expect this kind of disinterest from my blind date. That's what losing 44 lbs. will do to a dame, I guess! Dangerous, blinding self-confidence.

Ooh, before I forget, here's a picture of the beauteous plum-colored dress I bought a few weeks ago when I first got into a size 12. It's uber flattering just exactly in the places where I need a little extra flattering. Best part? I can wash it on the delicates cycle, dry it on a hanger in my bathroom, and it's ready to go. No iron needed. Now that's fashion a housewife can appreciate.

This is the dress I was wearing on Thursday when I saw Curly for the second time last week. (I paired it with some strappy gold heels, purple beaded earrings, and gold bracelets on both wrists.) Once upon a time, I used to see Curly maybe once every month or two. Over the summer, it was once a week. These days, I'm running into him a few times a week. Which is absolutely fine with me! The man is smokin' hot. He's actually started using the men's room in the hallway right outside my office - there's a men's room just outside his office downstairs - and he came up to use the kitchen in our office suite twice last week. Now, clearly my judgment is a bit impaired these days (see Exhibit A above) so I'm trying really hard not to read anything into all these Curly sightings. But by the third day in a row last week, I started feeling a little intoxicated. Maybe there's something wrong with the men's room downstairs? Maybe he was around all the time before... Did I just never notice him?

*sigh*

Where's Nancy Drew when you need her?

"crushed paper, dry kindling, and logs"

Happily, there's one item among this list of chores for the living room that I don't have to worry about. The hearth may still have been the heart of the typical 1940s living room, but there isn't any in my circa 1989 apartment.

Even for the vintage housewife, a daily cleaning of the fireplace would only have been a job during the season that it was being used. She must have cheered out loud each spring when it was warm enough that a fire in the evenings could be dispensed with. I've been reading the diaries kept by a woman in northern New York in this era. She lived in a farmhouse without either central heat or electricity and the coal stove in her "parlor" was regularly used from about late October/early November until sometime in May. (Imagine the work it took to maintain one of those cast iron coal stoves!)

We have the best of both worlds today. If you have a fireplace in your living room, it's probably something you only use - and have to clean up after - when a fire seems cozy on a chilly evening at home. Here's the "morning after" ritual recommended by The Manual:

Each morning the hearth should be swept and ashes emptied into the ash pit or disposed of safely. A new fire should be laid on the grate, with crushed paper, dry kindling, and logs...

Once or twice a year, special cleaning is necessary to remove smoke stains...

The wood box should be brushed out each time it is to be refilled. If insect life is discovered in it, prompt action should be taken.

And a stern word of caution for houseguests tempted to use the fireplace as a trash can:

Need we say that the fireplace should never be used as a wastebasket or a place to dump the contents of ash trays? When this happens the fireplace is most unsightly when no fire is burning, and a match touched to the litter and debris may create a fire hazard.

Week Forty-seven: The Mission

My sister is headed home to New England tomorrow with Kitten and Poppet. They're off to spend two weeks visiting family and friends - and enjoying some of that crisp autumn weather I'd love a taste of myself! (My babies will be so far away!!!) I've resolved to keep myself busy while they're gone with a whole new mission. It's time to take it back to basics and finally add that living room to my weekly housekeeping routine. The only real housework I've been doing in my living room since starting The Experiment has been to give that room a little daily tidying. It was ten months ago that I began giving the following treatment to my living room every evening before bed:

Put living room in order.

• Open windows top and bottom for free circulation of air.
  
• Pick up and replace small articles belonging in the room, such as books, magazines, music, games, victrola records, cards, etc.
  
• Gather up on tray to be taken out: used ash trays, articles belonging in other rooms, plants or flowers to be tended. Collect trash in waste basket.
  
• Carry out tray.

Remember those chores? They're super easy when you live in a small apartment and you're only home two days a week! It only takes me about five minutes each night and makes the living room a much nicer place to wake up to in the morning... Well, it's time to expand that routine a bit. Once each weekend - probably on Sunday afternoons - I'm going to give the living room some weekly attention.

Now, the authors of America's Housekeeping Book (1945) suggest that the housewife give each room in the house a daily cleaning shortly after breakfast. Once a week, she should return to each room and clean it more thoroughly. (The day of the week doesn't matter very much, but they do recommend once in passing that living rooms be cleaned on Fridays.) Since I work outside the home full time, I can't clean each room every day. Instead, I aim to give each room a weekly cleaning (with the chores recommended to the '40s housewife on a daily basis) and then - once a month - do the chores recommended to the '40s housewife on a weekly basis, rotating between the four rooms in my apartment so that each room gets the white glove treatment once a month. Without further ado, here's my new barebones once-a-week housekeeping routine for the living room:

1. Bring in cleaning equipment: hearthbroom (if not kept at fireplace), carpet sweeper or vacuum cleaner (according to need), dust mop, cleaning basket.

2. In season, clean out fireplace, lay fire, sweep hearth.

3. Dust high objects if necessary: mantels, high shelves, window frames and sills, tops of bookcases, secretary, highboys, etc.

4. Dust radiator covers if necessary.

5. Brush upholstery if necessary. Straighten covers. Plump up pillows.

6. Dust furniture and low objects if necessary. Treat stains or blemishes as they occur.

7. Dust exposed wood flooring with dust mop if necessary. Use carpet sweeper or vacuum cleaner on rugs or carpets.

8. Final touches: Straighten draperies, shades, curtains, etc. Take out cleaning equipment and waste basket. Return clean ash trays, accessories, flowers and waste basket. Close windows if desired.

41 + 3 = 44

It's gotta be all kinds of wrong to celebrate another 3 lb. weight loss and simultaneously rave about my new Butterscotch Biscuit recipe! Nevertheless, I've got to do both this morning. In fact, we've got a lot to catch up on. Let me put a pot of coffee on first...

I weighed in at 150 this morning which means I've lost 44 lbs. since beginning this vintage reducing and fitness routine in April! 1 more lb. and I can officially visit a doctor's office without the nurse having to move that slide on the scale up a whole 'nother notch. You know the slide I'm talking about? That great divide between weighing 100 something and 150 something - or 200 something, for that matter. (Been there!) My mini-goal of 145 is just 5 lbs. away now, so I'm upping the ante. I've got to make it by November 7.

My breakfast this morning is clearly not going to be contributing! The Butterscotch Biscuits were tres delicieux, but not the kind of treat to be enjoyed on a regular basis. These biscuits just melt in your mouth --- which is never a good thing for a reducer! I'm packing the rest of this batch into the freezer as soon as they're fully cooled. They were fairly easy to make. Took me about 20 minutes - and only 10 minutes to bake. Start by mixing up a batch of Baking Powder Biscuits dough. Here's where things get interesting:

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BUTTERSCOTCH - Roll dough to a rectangular sheet and brush with softened butter. Sprinkle with brown sugar and roll up like a jelly roll. Cut into 1-inch slices and place cut side down on greased baking sheet or in greased muffin pan.

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So I had my first date in six years on Thursday evening. And lived to tell the tale! I thought I might perish from nerves about 15 minutes before I left the house. My first instinct was to eat something sinful, but I ate a banana instead and it did the trick. As soon as I met the guy and could see how nervous he seemed, it calmed me down. One of us had to be relaxed, right? We met for a cup of coffee at this restaurant which serves dessert only. (No dessert for me, thanks!) The emailer was more handsome than he looked in in his pictures. Tall and slim with a pianist's fingers. He was soft spoken with a careful, deliberate way of talking. But still... very little interest it seems in actually getting to know more about me. He's never even asked me the easy questions. You know, the kind of stuff you'd ask a new co-worker or somebody you just met at a cocktail party. Instead he showed me all the apps on his iPhone. Yep. His iPhone. Is that the 21st century equivalent of showing a potential mate what you've been able to club and drag back to the cave?

I'm not sure what happens next. I shook his hand good-bye and told him I'd had a nice time. He didn't suggest seeing each other again and neither did I. (I didn't suggest that he call on my mother, either!) I'd be open to a second date, but he hasn't emailed me since Thursday evening. And I haven't a clue what he thought of me. Couldn't even hazard a guess. He was very guarded. Perhaps I'd better reach for my New American Etiquette (1941). What kind of advice on "dating" does Lily Haxworth Wallace have to offer this week?

No girl or young woman should ever visit, upon his invitation alone, the home of a man who lives with female relatives. Before she can go, she must have an invitation from one of the ladies.

One of the most troublesome questions that has arisen because of the modern freedom of relations between the sexes is whether or not a girl or young woman may visit a man in his apartment alone.

The answer is almost invariably "No" but there can be many circumstances that make it seem proper. A girl from a small town, on a visit to the city, might call upon and have dinner with a man from her home town. Where is the harm in that? A bride-to-be would certainly be in no danger if she visited her fiance in his rooms? Dozens of other similar examples could be given.

According to the rigid rules of etiquette, it must not be done. There are many conservatives who would severely disapprove and certainly Mrs. Grundy can be expected to take full advantage of any such "goings on." According to the same rules of proper living, it would seem that whether it is right or wrong depends entirely upon the girl. When a girl considers going alone to the man's apartment, she should ask herself just one question:

"Would I do this if I knew my mother, Mrs. Grundy, and everyone I know sees me enter?"

If the answer to that question is "Yes," where can the harm be? If the answer is "No," the visit had better not be made.

It is even considered improper for two or three girls to visit in a man's rooms unless an older woman - a chaperon - is present.

Neither can one girl with another young couple make the visit with any more propriety than she could alone.

At any party given by a bachelor in his apartment, older persons, who will serve the purpose of chaperons, should always be present.

It is perfectly all right, however, for two girls to take tea with a college man in his rooms.

If you are willing to make the visit and thus dare Mrs. Grundy, make it a point to leave early. Do not remain after nine o'clock or, at the very latest, ten. If you go during the day, do not stay long. Mrs. Grundy only needs to have a man and woman together for one minute to tell some dreadful tales. Three or four hours might keep her busy for a year. Be sensible about this matter. Do not give people any excuse for gossip for only a few minutes of fleeting pleasure. Weigh the scales well to determine whether more good or harm may come to you because of the visit.

Shampoo in the Shower

Let's face it. As much as I enjoy my nightly baths, there are times of the week and times of the month when an invigorating morning shower hits the spot. On Saturday and Sunday mornings - when I sweat hard during a 65-minute walk at the park - I need a shower to feel fresh and dry for the rest of the day. And when Aunt Flo pays a call, I couldn't do without a shower before heading out in the morning to face the world. The rest of the time, I'm perfectly cool with a nightly bath. I've come to prefer 'em. I love that squeaky clean feeling when I crawl under the covers at night --- and there's something about all that hot water that puts my head in just the right space for dreamland.

Folks in the '40s were just coming themselves to appreciate the virtues of a great shower, and showers were becoming popular enough additions to postwar American bathrooms that Good Housekeeping dedicated an article to washing your hair in the shower in its March 1947 issue. I'll bet they've got some advice that might be helpful to me:

Why not wash your hair in the shower? Once you get the hang of it, you will never go back to shampooing in a bowl. Try it this way. Before you strip, have everything you need at hand - cream shampoo or a cup into which you have measured enough liquid shampoo for two sudsings, a small brush, a towel placed where you can reach it with your eyes shut. Wet your hair thoroughly; then keep away from the spray when rubbing suds into the hair. To rinse, face the spray or turn your back, as you like. Either way, shut your eyes, and as the water begins to run clear, turn so that a strong spray can be concentrated on every part of your head. Your hair will be more thoroughly rinsed with less trouble than ever before; you'll step out clean from top to toe; and you won't have to mop the bathroom floor.

Good Housekeeping seems sold on showers! At least when it comes to washing hair. Isn't it funny how something which seems so natural to we shower-takers today had to be broken down step by step like this. Even the process of rinsing the hair. Well, I suppose washing my hair in the bathroom sink would seem just as unnatural to me. Here are some additional tips included in the article. Thank goodness I don't have to worry about dandruff!

• Whether you shampoo in a bowl or in a shower, always brush your hair thoroughly before you start, in order to loosen any clinging dandruff.

• Be sure to suds every part of the scalp and hair. Uneven cleansing is often the cause of drab locks.

• Use a hand brush or small hairbrush to rub suds around the hairline, behind the ears, and on any spot where dandruff is likely to be troublesome.

• Rinse until the water runs clear. Without perfect rinsing, it is impossible to have glossy, springy hair. Use a hand spray if you don't shampoo in a shower.

• In hard water, use a soapless shampoo or a soap shampoo specially made to rinse out in hard water. Or follow soap rinsing with a lemon or color rinse, to remove curd.

Can anyone guess who's famous gams those are in the photo at the top of this post?

Brown Sugar and Butter

Well, I don't have much to report on my date Saturday afternoon. It never materialized. We got our signals crossed and he apologized profusely, but it turns out email is a terrible way to try and plan something as simple as a cup of coffee. (I could've told you that! I was perfectly willing to give this guy my phone number in the beginning, but now I'm feeling like it's just not worth it.) We're planning to get together on Thursday evening, so I'll keep you posted...

Not much to report here from the home front. I've just finished giving my bathroom its extra special monthly cleaning. This morning's wash has been folded and put away, my ironing is prepped and ready to go tomorrow night, and I'm gearing up for some evening exercises. One of my Sunday rituals is planning my breakfast menus for the week ahead and - as I'll run out of frozen baked goods by the end of the week - I got to pick a new recipe to try next weekend: Butterscotch Biscuits. It's one of about a dozen variations on the basic Baking Powder Biscuit recipe in my 1945 cookbook. Even the name sounds scrumptious! Can't wait to try 'em out.

It occurs to me that butterscotch is a very vintage flavor. You don't see a whole heck of a lot of modern sweets taking advantage of everything that classic combination of brown sugar-and-butter has to offer. Butterscotch pudding mix is still kicking around and you might see somebody toss some butterscotch morsels into a cookie recipe from time to time, but - just for comparison's sake - The American Woman's Cook Book includes eight recipes featuring this flavor: Butterscotch candy (in hard or soft varieties, along with a variation called Maple Scotch), Butterscotch Biscuits, Mock Butterscotch Custard, Butterscotch Pie, Banana Butterscotch Pie, Butterscotch Sauce, Butterscotch Slices (cookies), and Butterscotch Toast. Do you have any tried and true family recipes that could join this line-up? My mom makes some lovely butterscotch brownies she calls Blondies.

Butterscotch was a popular color of the era, too. Have you noticed how much butterscotch-colored bakelite there is out there? From bangles to flatware handles, that rich buttery color was hot.

Oy, can you tell I'm PMSing? I've gone from bitter to butterscotch in a single post!

38 + 3 = 41

That's more like it! 41 lbs. this morning... which means I've reached my half-way point and left it in the dust. WHOO-HOO!!!!! I weighed in at 153 today. Gosh, I can remember way back in April when I counted forward to the end of the year. I figured if I could lose 1 lb. per week, I'd weigh in at 155 by New Year's Eve. Here it is late September and I've hit that mark already. My next goal? 145. I'd like to see it by November 21 at the latest.

I've honestly had a tough time this week getting back into the swing of things. Last minute social plans, the need to buy some clothes in my new size... there have been lots of things disrupting my routine, but I'm determined to put my house in order this weekend. The one thing I've clung to like a life raft has been my reducing and fitness plan. No matter what else is happening around me, I've got to keep riding this momentum for as long as it lasts. The next plateau could be around any corner.

So I may have a date - of sorts - this afternoon! Nope, not Curly. Just the fellow my friend set me up with. The emailer. I adopted the vintage attitude of waiting for him to make the first move and it took, well, I think it's been a few weeks now. Maybe a month. He finally wrote and asked me, "Would you care to get together sometime this week?" We've had to plan the date via email, but it looks like we might be meeting this afternoon for a cup of coffee at a restaurant which serves desserts only. And we'll see what happens. I'm not expecting any chemistry --- but you can't plan that kind of thing, right? He seems like a nice man. I wanted to see it through to an actual date because of our mutual friend. And I could use some practice with this whole dating thing! Perhaps we'd better check in with Lily Haxworth Wallace in The New American Etiquette (1941) to see if she has any advice that might help me out:

As explained in the section on "dating" it is quite proper for a young lady to ask a man to call on her and her mother or it is quite correct for him to ask if he may.

The inclusion of the mother in the invitation or request is one of the ways we have to show that we do not entirely forget the proprieties of the past, because, most assuredly, the mother will probably only stop for a few words after the young man has been presented to her. She will then vanish into another part of the house and only appear again just before she goes to bed or when the young man is leaving. When bidding the mother good night, the young man should ask her permission to call again. This need only be done at the first call.

The young girl who has an apartment alone or with another girl is faced with an entirely different problem. The girl en famille is never criticized by Mrs. Grundy when she entertains a young man even though she may be as much alone with him as the girl who entertains him in her apartment. There is no difference at all in what happens, but the girl alone, who entertains her men friends, is often the target of all sorts of gossip. Even the men who call, of course eliminating those who know her very well, seem to feel a difference between her and the girl in her own home.

The girl alone had better insist that her men friends leave early, not after midnight. It is better if she makes her dinner parties affairs for four. She should not invite her escort in if they arrive home after twelve. Her parties should never be loud affairs and it would be best if liquor is kept at a minimum. If she so acts, the single girl who lives alone will give Mrs. Grundy little to talk about.

The wealthy girl, who for some reason lives alone in her apartment, would be wise to have a companion - something like a chaperon - and then she can entertain to her heart's desire. Of course, if she has a retinue of servants, they, also, tend to keep gossip at a low ebb.

So far, so good. I'm not planning on entertaining this young man in my apartment. Thank goodness for restaurants and other public places! My fellow diners should help to keep Mrs. Grundy at bay.

A Few New Finds

Does shopping for the perfect skirt in a size 12 count as marketing?

I sure hope so. Then I can happily check Wednesday's mission off my list for the week! Actually, I did make a super quick stop at the natural foods store on my way home, but the better part of my evening was definitely spent shopping for new clothes. For the second time this week no less. My boss has come back to work and I've been spending all my newfound energy trying to replenish my wardrobe. There's nothing worse when you've lost a lot of weight than feeling scrummy in clothes that just hang on you, so it was off to the stores this week. Yesterday, I found a darling little plum-colored sheath which is flattering as can be --- and machine washable! Tonight's find was a little brown skirt with pleats along the hem at the sides and a fabric buckle-y doodad just above each set of pleats. Way too hard to describe, but I love the way it looks on me. I was awfully tempted by a gray skirt, but it was a bit loose around the waist and I know there's only one direction I'm headed when it comes to my waistline! Better to buy things that fit perfectly now - as they'll (hopefully) be too big for me before long.

The more time I spend cruising the racks, the better I get at shopping for clothes. What seemed awkward to this reforming frump a few months ago now feels like a skill I'm learning. Trying things on is a must. No matter how scared I am by the lighting in those dressing rooms! (Is it ever not absolutely frightful?) If it doesn't fit me perfectly, back to the rack it goes. And as I experiment, I'm getting to know what kinds of coverage I need in order to feel feminine without feeling immodest. What different colors do for my complexion. And how you can't always predict while a garment's on the hanger how it's going to look once you slip it on. I've been pleasantly surprised from time to time. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I enjoy clothes shopping - I'm too thrifty to ever really experience "retail therapy" - but it doesn't wear me down like it used to.

I guess these would have been the kind of skills a woman of the 1940s would have been practicing since she was a girl and accompanied her mother to the department store. True, there were plenty of women still making their own clothes at home, but there were probably just as many who never learned to do any dressmaking and purchased all their clothing ready-made.

The Manual describes clothing - like food - as a "flexible expense." Though about 15% of the average household budget of the era was spent on clothing, a skillful housewife could spend a little less when times were tough and some of that 15% was needed on other expenses. Here's one area where endless Mondays in the laundry room and the ability to think ahead could truly pay off:

...every wife knows the importance of her husband's appearance being suitable to his vocational position; and every mother knows that children involve sacrifice of parental outlays in dress or other items.

However, many factors affect the amount that must be spent for clothing - climate, activities, interests and social or business obligations, all are involved. A list of the year's needs should be made for each member of the family, and the items on hand checked off. It is often necessary to look ahead two or three years in order to plan wisely for a major purchase such as a winter coat. An estimate of the cost of items to be purchased can then be made. Actual expenditures depend upon your ability to compare quality and price, to watch for sales at reliable stores, to read labels and to follow directions for care. If you know the best methods for laundering, mending and pressing, you can prolong the useful life of clothes.

Now if I could just find the perfect new pair of brown shoes to match my new skirt...

36 + 2 = 38

Ooh, so close! I weighed in at 156 lbs. this morning. Just 1 lb. shy of my midway milestone. Soooooooooo close!!! I have to hold off on the confetti and streamers for a little bit longer. How's that for some incentive for the next week. I want to see that 155 so badly I can hardly stand it!

So I guess I was a little over-optimistic about my boss' vacation when it started. :) What a week. I went from feeling completely capable to feeling absolutely overwhelmed and struggling to get as much done at home as I had the energy to do. It's almost over, thank goodness. She'll be back on Tuesday. I'm grateful to have a couple days at home now to recuperate and get caught up on some housework. It's my kitchen's turn this week for an extra special, super-duper monthly cleaning, but I thought I'd sit down and catch up with my blog before getting started on that big job.

My vintage breakfast menu this morning called for Sweet Rolls, but there was no way on God's green earth I had the patience or energy to attempt any yeast breads this weekend! So I flipped through the pages of my cookbook to try and find a quick bread that'd be hearty and filling. You know what's wild? Being able to do that - knowing that I've got the ingredients for most things already there in my own pantry. That still gives me a rush. Here's the recipe for the Raisin Bran Muffins that caught my eye. This is a sugar-free wartime recipe --- the only sweeteners being molasses and the natural sugars in raisins. They were tasty, but nowhere near as yummy as the Rolled Oat Muffins I made a month or so ago.

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RAISIN BRAN MUFFINS

3/4 cup sifted flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup bran
1/2 cup seeded raisins
1 egg
1/2 cup milk
1 1/2 tablespoons molasses
1 tablespoon melted shortening

Sift flour, baking powder and salt together; add bran and raisins. Beat egg and mix with remaining ingredients. Add dry ingredients, mixing only enough to dampen all the flour. Fill greased muffin pans 2/3 full and bake in hot oven (400 degrees F.) 30 minutes. Makes 12.

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Have muffin pans gotten larger since 1945? Not the Texas muffin kind, the everyday muffin pans... This recipe only yielded 10 muffins for me and a few of them were very small.

You'll be proud of me - I finally managed to choke out a conversation with Curly this last week! He came by my office a couple times on Wednesday, the second time to toast one of the bagels in the kitchen that somebody had brought in for a birthday. So his bagel's in the toaster, he's looking at a map on the wall beside my desk, and I'm finishing up a phone call and thinking to myself, "Jitterbug, it's now or never. You've got to move this beyond, 'Hi. How are you?' This is it!" I moved right into his space and asked him something I knew would make him laugh. And he laughed out loud. What a smile! I just wanted to see it again and again. He told me a funny story, then his bagel was finished and I needed to get back to work anyway. Goodness, anybody walking by would have instantly seen how attracted I am to him - he couldn't not have seen it himself --- I must have been smiling and blushing and batting my eyelashes like no tomorrow. I felt a little embarrassed afterward, but decided that if he didn't come by again for awhile that was a sure sign that he was uncomfortable with my attention. Well, he came by again the next day. That's all I needed to know. Open season!

Just so you know how hard it is for me to talk coherently when Curly's anywhere in the vicinity, here's a hint of what's running through my mind. Check out these beautiful pictures taken by Alfred Eisenstaedt at Penn Station in 1944. They're almost a little too personal to look at...