December 17, 1933

Finally got our play "The Gay Pretenders" out of our systems, Thursday. Mrs. Pearson proved a God-send; she had the whole cast so enthusiastic that they forgot to get frightened. Raw, rainy weather, of course, and a small audience. I enjoyed the character impersonation immensly, but the time required to master the endless lines would keep me out of it in normal times. Those who were connected with the show have gained a lot of experience which will serve them well if they attempt another later. More emphasis will have to be placed on the business of selling tickets.

Jack wrote his annual to Santa the other day. He characteristically asked for a prism (where the devil will I find one), a chemistry set, and a microscope. He said of course he wanted some play things too, but gave assurance that he was old enough to take care of the articles mentioned.

Dick is highly impressed with the prospects of sticks and stones in his stocking. To enhance his chances of something better, he cleans his plate and dresses himself religiously.

Having worked up my paper for the X-Club during the height of the play activities, in order to present it this coming Sunday when Robert arranged a meeting at his house because of his leaving town prior to the scheduled meeting in January, the meeting has just been postponed. My paper is not in the best of condition, but I don't believe I'll work on it much more. While typeing it for five solid hours the other night on the job, I must have been in a draught, for it is nearly impossible to straighten my back. Went through the show performance with the help of a grand and glorious adhesive strap across my lower back, and aspirin. This happened to fit in with my part of an eccentric elderly "hick", and what the audience may have attributed to acting may have been merely the funny actions I couldn't help making.

Praise the Lord! Is this Christmas time or Easter? Nan has come back to life: Two rattley boxes arrived by mail yesterday from Harrisburg, addressed to the 5th St. house, where we haven't lived for nearly a year. She had better be careful or the boys will begin thinking of her as one of those mysterious, angelic, providing, aunts, which seems to be Aunt Bertie's status.

Finally caught up with "Life Begins at Forty" (Pitkin), and what a book! I gave Madlin notice that we are going to acquire a copy, if we have to live on beans for a month.

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