March 20, 1945

Dot’s letter today ends abruptly at the end of the first page and continues for three pages the next day. To spread out the news, I’ll handle it the same way.

If she had known how much time she’d be spending on other people’s dishes and children, she would have thought twice about placing that ad in the newspaper! She and El served a big spaghetti dinner at the Miller’s home last night.

Fortunately, she had the foresight to carve out a whole day to work on her bike. She used the tools and equipment at her father’s fix-it shop and she’s delighted with the results. “It’s a delicious light blue and looks nearly new. (I’m a poet and don’t I know it. My talents show it. I’m ‘Whittier.’)”

Tomorrow she hopes to get all 200 bolts, screws, and other parts back into their proper places. She jokes about pumping to make the light go on and ringing the bell to turn the pedals, but she’s actually quite mechanical, so I bet it all worked out fine.

She warns him that if he doesn’t stop making up this beautiful dream girl back in the States, he’ll be setting himself up for a huge letdown when he gets home. That reminded her of a limerick:

As a beauty, I’m not a great star

There are others more handsome by far.

But my face, I don’t mind it, ’cause I’m here behind it.

It’s you folks out in front that I jar.

Limericks were always one of Dart’s favorite “art forms,” but I doubt he’ll have much appreciation for this one.

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