June 27, 1976 (Letter from Connie)

I feel about two inches high.  I'd started a letter to you a couple of weeks ago, got sidetracked (due to one of this spring's jaunts), and found the #$%*&% unfinished, unmailed letter this morning.

So looks like I owe you some catching up for the last few weeks.  Went to Seattle over Memorial Day.  Tried to eat and drink my way through town, and see everyone, go everywhere, and do everything in three days.  Stayed over for a fourth, still hadn't made it, but by that time I was so exhausted I just went home.  Did manage to see my pals and my family.  My brother and his wife have bought some land (5 acres!) way north of Everett, and are planing on building within a year or so.  Went slogging up through it.  It's way out in the boondocks which suits them very well indeed. Had a chance to see my old neighbor Anke and her kids (did you ever gete a chance to meet them while you were in Seattle?  You couldn't forget Anke:  she's German, about 5'6:, slender and beautiful.)  It was a lucky chance getting to see them, because they left for Germany for the summer that next Tuesday.  She's the one I'm to meet and travel around with.  My mom called yesterday to tell me that rumor has it Anke might not be able to find someone to take care of the two children for those three weeks, and so might not be able to gad around with me.  Egads but that drops the bottom out of everything.  Well, maybe not:  Either we'll find someone to take the kids, or I'll just pop up to England (grumble grumble: I'm not in the mood to go to England), or we'll take them with us.  They're not bad kids (Mark's 10 and Kim's 9, and very nice, smart, well-behaved kids).  Doubt that they'd be interested in going to the Louvre, or clamering up to the Parthenon, but then maybe they might.  Either way, something will work out.  Has to.  Things have been going so well for this trip that it really feels as though God wants me to go -- and that nothing and nobody can stand in my way.

Where was I?  Oh.  After I got back from Seattle (thoroughly exhausted), I hung around Cheyenne for three days, and then hightailed it off to Denver for SLA for four.  Stayed in the Hilton (La-di-da!) with two others, so the bill was not too bad.  16th floor:  terrific view.  I've been to better conferences:  it seemed a little disjointed to me.  All the good workshops were scheduled at conflicting times (of course).  But the exhibits were good.  Ran into a couple of people I knew from Montana, including Ruth Solli (sp?), Lavern Kohl's daughter who now is head of the Reference Room at the State Library (Lavern's old job -- that sort of arrangement is Alma Jacob's way.)  Ruth is preetty nice -- looks so much like Lavern you could faint.  But things seem to be going pretty well there.  Darleen T. is still head of BPH -- I don't know whether they're planning on getting a professional in for the job.  Lynne Stevenson has left, and starts at Carroll College in August. (Talked to Lynne a few weeks ago:  seems Dick Peel was hiding in the woodwork in Helena all this time, and only last month (?) finally dug himself out to make his way to Phoenix.  NOT Salt Lake City, as I'd understood.  Something seemed to have happened, but nobody quite knows what, and from what Lynne said, nobody felt close enough to Dick to ask what.  Hmmm.  Well at least he's off to Phoenix now.)

After SLA, rushed back to Cheyenne, and have been working my little fingers to the bone (sort of) for the last few weeks.  The job has its ups and downs and I'm just now coming up from a down. When I got back from Denver, my desk was piled high with so much housekeeping crud that it took me three days to get through it.  Really hate that kind of junk:  orders, circulation, physical processing of new books  shelving, SHIFTING (BLECHH!!!)  So help me, everytime I imagine I see the Light At The End Of The Tunnel, the tunnel caves in.  The cave-in this time was 1.  A monster annotated bibliography we're going to have published, and 2. Six new boxes of books that got dug out of storage that I had to find something to do with, and 3. Umpteen zillion little interruptions to hep patrons, to do subject searches, to mess with carpenters building shelves (and not building shelves), annotations of new books for the newsletter, and on and on, ad nauseum.

Thing is, I like my job, and I keep telling myself that it suits me perfectly, but I want to go home. This bit of being twelve hundred miles from everybody gets me down.  I have drinking buddies in Cheyenne, but I don't really have any friends here: nobody to call up and gab with, or drop in on, or run off to see a movie with.  Helena was much better in that respect.  And everytime I call someone "at my back I always near, Ma Bell's winged cash register hurrying near" (to mutilate Andrew Marvell).  I can't drive to Seattle, it takes two full days each way, and to fly costs close to $200.  The only thing any one wants to do around here is get drunk.  So I go drinking, but drinking's

You mentioned in your letter about that time we were at the Northlake Tav, and how you were feeling so apprehensive, and how at Horatio's you felt something was blocking your way home.  (I could feel something was wrong, that you felt uncomfortable, but I couldn't figure out what it might be -- it never occurred to me that it might be something like that mess at Deer Lodge.)  I mention that because I seem to be surrounded by psychic people.  My mom called last Saturday.  Pam had gotten this really awful feeling, quite suddenly, and ran frantically from work (leaving her purse in the process -- so like Pam!, trying to find mom.  The target of fear must have mom, because she'd been up t Mike & Benita's, had been feeling weird, and drove home about as fast as a snail. She got home all right, and Pam's fear passed.  They tired to call me, to see it I was the target, but I was off shopping, and they finally got hold of me that evening.  I hadn't had any vibes, or any problems.  I tell ya, it really makes me mad:  everybody's psychic but me.  It's not fair -- I can't even tell when the phone's going to ring!!  Well, that's not absolutely true. I get weak vibes once in a while, but only for good things, and only about me.  Or maybe it's just luck.  Who's to say.  And then I have a lucky day (very important things happen for me every year for the last four, no, five, years on this one day, or close to it, and I'm lucky on the 14th, and especially Friday the 13th. Hmm.)

Been running around frantically trying to get ready for my trip.  Got my ticket, my Eurailpass, my International driver's license (just in case), an American Express card (just in case), my passport, a 26" suitcase, and on and on, and I get my traveler's checks next week.  And then you wouldn't believe my shopping list, all the wile-you're-over-there-do-you-think-you-could-pick-up...would you believe:  a case of German beer, two German beersteins, a German aviator's hat (7 1/2), some liquor filled chocolate, three loaves of German bread, some Italian jewelry, and an inflatable Greek god (in lieu of the real thing).  And of course big-hearted sucker that I am I always agree.  Who'm I trying to kid?  I love getting presents for people -- can I bring you something?

So I leave July 6th, and will be back August 4th.  Finally got my flight schedule:  have to be down at the airport in Denver at 8 a.m.  YECHH!  Finally figured out that the only way I could get there would be to take the 4:30 a.m. Greyhound from here.  Tried to bribe some of my pals at work to drive me down, but couldn't con anyone into getting up in time to pick me up at 6 a.m., drive 100 miles and turn around and rive 100 miles back.  It was a good try.  And then, of course, the plane gets in here at 2:30 a.m.  What fun. Told you that there's now some doubt that Anke would not be able to gad around with me.  Really hope that's not true.  Had my heart set on going to Italy -- ooh -- been reading the guidebooks about all the things to see in Rome and Florence, and my God, Naples.  We'll see. We'll see. I'm fated to go to Europe this summer, but I just don't quite know exactly where.  So maybe I'm fated to go back to England.  Be interesting to find out.

Have I told you about my black thumb, about how I will kill every plant I come near?  Well, seems to have changed.  Got three plants last fall, killed two of them, but the third one is a hearty little fellow and he's still hanging in there!  Even had to transplant him yesterday because he outgrew his little pot.  He's called a pepperomia (sp?) or something like that, and he has these really fat leaves, and might even turn into a tree or some such.  I'm really quite amazed. Then I got cuttings from a couple of plants at work, stuck them in water, and lo and behold if they didn't get roots.  Almost fell over.  Stuck them in some dirt yesterday, and I'm kind of anxious to see what happens.  One of them (a Wandering Jew??) has little mottled green leaves and looks diseased to me, but through giggles at my horticultural inanities I'm told it's supposed to look like that, so I guess it's OK.  Haven't got the faintest idea what the other one is, but it has green and purple striped leaves and really looks neat.  Hope they survive.  But then I wouldn't lay odds.  (I'm having some people watch my place while I'm gone, so I won't worry about them.)  They'll probably be very healthy while I'm gone, only for me to come back and kill them.  That's about my speed.)

Let me see.  I haven't read any books at all lately (I'm getting illiterate) but have you see "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest", or "Robin and Marion"? Superb!  Both of them.  Very, very different of course, but both very good.  The romantic in me loves R & M.  Audrey Hepburn is so gorgeous I could strangle her.  Drat.  She is now tied with Garbo in my book as The Most Beautiful Woman Ever Known.  Do manage to see a few good films on the tube here.  Saw "The Philadelphia Story" (Hepburn-Grant-Stewart, 1940, director by Cukor), and last night caught "Viva Zapata" (Brandon, 1952) -- that is a terrific film, screenplay by Steinbeck.  I was very impressed.  Bette Davis' "Jezebel" was on last week.  Was not impressed, but then I've never been impressed with her.

My house is an absolute sty (in other words, it looks as messy as usual).  Before I went to Seattle I ran around frantically cleaning every inch, so I hope the same urge hits me before I go off this time.  It better.  I don't' mind living in a filthy house, I just can't stand to have anyone see it.

Went out drinking last night (my bon Voyage party -- at least the first one).  Shouldn't have:  my almost ulcer that was now intermittently is, once more, and it is not fond of alcohol.  And I will not have that blasted thing messing up my German-Italian[-Greek feasting.  Looks like I take my Malox...

Looks like I've about run out of steam.  Again I apologize for my forgetfulness and for my typing.  Take care, and keep in touch (don't be as lousy a correspondent as I am, that is).  Would you believe that I almost envy you in New England over the 4th:  I get to watch the parade down main street Cheyenne -- but at least I get to miss the Frontier Days rodeo!!

Take care -- I'll send you a postcard from wherever.....