I got an honest-to-goodness letter in the mail. This is what the outside of the card looked like:
My letter was from Tanya, who just moved away (sad–I don’t have that many friends that I can spare one).
But I digress by bringing up my sorry social situation when what I really want to talk about is letters. I love getting letters! I don’t write them as often as I should, but I love getting them. I just finished reading Phineas Finn, which I enjoyed ever so much*, and the characters–in the late 19th century–are always writing long, interesting letters to each other. In fact about 75% of uppercrust women’s time seems to have been spent reading or writing letters. Another 20% was dressing, having tea, giving dinner orders to the servants, and walking about the grounds, and a final 5% to horseback riding!
I’m going to write more letters. When I was in the 3rd grade, my teacher built little cubbies for us, and each of us had a spot to collect letters. We were actually encouraged to write notes to each other! I can still remember how excited I was whenever I saw a note in my cubby. The same excitement I now get when among all of the bills and advertisements I see a beautiful hand-written envelope. Ah, the lost art of letter writing!
*One of the things that happens when I read a thousand pages of a nineteenth century novel is that I start using phrases like “ever so much!” Sorry about that!