April 10, 1961: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
Things have been confused and this is late. First we had kittens. Then Shamrock turned out to be the kind of mother who holes up in a tavern while her brats slowly freeze in the car, i.e., she takes vacations from the kittens without warning, as long as twenty-four hours, which finds us, Ginny especially, down on our knees feeding formula to kittens with a doll bottle that holds just an ounce. Then some Icelanders came to town, guests of the State Department, and I, as a member of the Air Power Council, was drafted to entertain them. Whereupon Ginny decided to give a dinner party for all of them, a dinner of some twenty people, at the drop of a hat. Fine time, but it killed three days, what with preparations, cleaning up, and recovering. Then the superintendent of the Naval Academy, a classmate of mine, came to town and we did it all over again-and had a blizzard. During which the wings of Ginny’s new greenhouse came down under the snow load. Not much dollar damage and no plants lost, but Ginny was sad and it was quite a nuisance. I had been dubious about the design when I saw it first and had ordered modifications to beef it up, but the mechanics had not done it as yet.
Then the galley proofs on Stranger in a Strange Land arrived and that killed three days of the time of each of us; it’s a long book. Ginny has just taken them to the post office and I am now writing to you a letter that should have gone days ago.
May 20, 1962: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
The new kittens are two weeks old and fat and healthy. A hawk or an owl got Ginny’s ducks.
April 17, 1964: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
No more news here, save that Shammie, immediately following the adoption of her latest litter last Sunday, at once went out and set a new crop-so we should have more kittens ca. 17 June. A busy body, that one-thirty-one kittens so far and she has just turned five.
August 16, 1967: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
Both Ginny and I are temporarily physically debilitated and emotionally depressed; we lost our little tomcat. He has been gone one week now and must be assumed to be dead. It is barely possible that he is out tomcating after some female and living on the land-but it is extremely unlikely. Two or three days, yes-a full week, no. A bobcat, a fox, a raccoon, an automobile. Sure, he was just a cat and we have lost cats many times before. But, for the time being, it hurts and keeps us from sleeping and leaves us emotionally unstable. Ginny continues to work hard, although she is not sleeping at all well — me, I’m so damned short on sleep that I can hardly type and can’t concentrate.
PROBLEMS
December 18, 1950: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
The novelette I planned to write as soon as the Puddin’ story (enclosed) for Senior Prom was out of the way has been jeopardized by the headlines as it has a historical tie-in which calls for World War III holding off for a little while at least. I am shelving it and will start immediately on the next boys’ novel for Scribner’s-and I’ll write it so that the above point is not material! I will complete it as rapidly as possible because of those same headlines. A purely personal and selfish note in the present turmoil is that I need, somehow, to complete this [Colorado Springs] house as rapidly as possible so that I will be ready for whatever comes. Mrs. Heinlein may be called up at any time; she has already received correspondence about it-and one married female reservist here in town has already been called up ahead of her husband, so that we know the threat is real. I myself must have a minor operation before I can possibly pass the physical examination, but I hope to be able to get around to that before very long. Two of my brothers are now in uniform and the third is likely to be called up soon-and I might as well get ready for anything. In the meantime, I intend to turn out copy and lots of it as long as possible.