Silly me, I thought I was going to be able to sleep without writing a post.
I got a letter today from Heather Madame:
It takes about a month for any letters from my pen-pal in Spain to arrive, so it’s always a fantastic day when an unexpected letter arrives, especially from Madame. So I grabbed a sheet of my favorite paper, sat down in front of Royal (my typewriter that currently sits on the floor by my desk) and started tapping away. I text-message Heather every day, so there was nothing really new to say, except for the obvious, but that never matters. I also added in a favorite little game of sorts to the message. I read once about secret lovers in the 1940’s who would hide messages to each other in their letters by putting a tiny dot below certain letters, so when the intended recipient got the letter, they would write down all of the characters with a dot below them, in order, and reveal the actual message. I had nothing to hide, so I just came up with something we always ask each other in our notes, anyway, and scribbled random french words here and there while I was at it (learning french is on our 20 before 20), ‘le lard!’ means ‘bacon!’:
In case you’re a new reader, you may not know that my “ongoing war with my thyroid” is referring to my hypothyroidism. Oh! Also, here the code I mentioned. We created a nomenclator using some greek characters and the original nomenclator used between Gilbert Gifford and Mary Queen of Scotts while Mary was imprisoned by Elizabeth (if you don’t know the down-low between those folks, grab a copy of The Code Book by Simon Singh, I’ve read that book a half a dozen times and I still love it):
Heather’s letter was exactly what I needed today. As soon as I saw her name on the corner of the envelope I went skipping up the stairs. I only read and write letters while sitting at my desk. You would understand if you saw my desk. I bought it from one of my favorite antique stores, it was simply made for reading and writing letters… as for the skipping, I found this to also be essential to the perfect letter-reading experience.
Alright, it looks like writing every single night is going to become routine, no matter how much I tried to avoid becoming a daily writer. You shall never wonder what I’m up to, because I’ll always return here, and I will be unable to stop myself from telling you all every little thing about what I think.
So, same time same place tomorrow, then?
Until I Write Again,