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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 099
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103 This state of affairs cannot go on forever. Hay fever is a very trying malady -- not an illness exactly although wretchedly uncomfortable -- but more of a curse than anything else. It is one of the things of life that cannot be abided but which nevertheless must be lived through. For life will go on, and forward, no matter how! It certainly is not a serious affair but may get quite beyond control. During the season it is merely a matter of hanging on from day to day, for going on is scarcely possible. There is that spark of life, however that will not let go and that will not be denied. Hay fever doesn't kill people - but sometimes one wishes that it might. The fall and winter marking our return to the United States from our vagabonding around the world found us buried to the hilt in activities relative to the new administration office that not only had been wished onto us during our absence, but the flavour of the idea alas rather appealed to us. In addition to the whirl of activities and the merry-go-round of university life we began plans for the construction of a new home, a sort of major operation in ones life. The ideas gradually took definite form in the plan for a French Provincial field-rock house to fit into the fast hills/landscape near the top of the hill. I not only designed this home but also drew the floor-plans, and even all the elevations to scale before the project was handed over to the architect. His function was principally and
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103 This state of affairs cannot go on forever. Hay fever is a very trying malady -- not an illness exactly although wretchedly uncomfortable -- but more of a curse than anything else. It is one of the things of life that cannot be abided but which nevertheless must be lived through. For life will go on, and forward, no matter how! It certainly is not a serious affair but may get quite beyond control. During the season it is merely a matter of hanging on from day to day, for going on is scarcely possible. There is that spark of life, however that will not let go and that will not be denied. Hay fever doesn't kill people - but sometimes one wishes that it might. The fall and winter marking our return to the United States from our vagabonding around the world found us buried to the hilt in activities relative to the new administration office that not only had been wished onto us during our absence, but the flavour of the idea alas rather appealed to us. In addition to the whirl of activities and the merry-go-round of university life we began plans for the construction of a new home, a sort of major operation in ones life. The ideas gradually took definite form in the plan for a French Provincial field-rock house to fit into the fast hills/landscape near the top of the hill. I not only designed this home but also drew the floor-plans, and even all the elevations to scale before the project was handed over to the architect. His function was principally and
Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries
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