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1007 West Oregon
Urbana, Illinois
February 26, 1956

Dear folks, 

I'm writing pretty late this week because this last week was fairly hectic. I worked overtime on Tuesday night, for example: did four hours of typing for one of the bosses, for which he paid me $6.00. Didn't feel like doing much besides going to bed. Yesterday I finished my bedspread and curtains, quite a few hours on the machine. The curtains are more satisfactory than the spread, which wrinkles a little too much. You can see little start points of light coming through the green material (pattern) and the red material likewise glows mysteriously. 

Jack has just gone to the physics library to work on his qualifyings. It is a very mild day with mires of mud in our parking lot, which necessitates keeping the car on the road. This is dangerous, as our license plates haven't arrived (due on February 1, sent for on February 6, fine up to $200) and if the car was in the yard it couldn't be taken. We were ignorant, which is no excuse. 

Jack's French course this semester is a good review for me. I do every lesson with him and help him with the grammar. Even though he had only two years of high school French, he reads it very well; but he never even learned grammar, it seems, and that is his bugbear. There are two grammar lessons a week, on Monday and Tuesday, and Sunday evening late is usually reserved to suffering it out.

I tried a new dish last week and was pleasantly surprised: beef stroganoff. I cooked stew beef in the pressure cooker with a tablespoonful of tomato