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12 January 2009, first day of classes, spring term.

Of course I had the best intentions for starting off the semester, waking up at seven and all that. However, when my alarm did go off, I found it unaccountably difficult to wriggle out of bed, largely because it was still black outside, with just a hint of grey in the east. And it was cold.

Rachel rushed off to an eight o'clock. I walked to the gym to run. O bliss, today all the TV screens at the front of the workout area were turned off, and some of them were even in the process of being drywalled over. The happiness of not having to refocus myself constantly away from those alluring flashing pictures was somewhat taken aback by the appearance of my adviser, of all people, Dr. S, in workout clothes with a book. She actually said hello to me before settling herself down on one of the bike machines.

At half eleven, I went to Tyrrell to practice my flute, then to ACAC for lunch. On my way to ACAC, I ran into Crystal, who's working on her senior project from last term. We talked for awhile on the sidewalk in the sunshine about poetry and photography. Then I went to buy a salad. Jenny M. and Amy happened to be in ACAC at the same time. The food court area was extremely crowded, but the three of us found the end of a table that was free. I said hello to Philip working at Carrello's on my way out.

My first class of the day was at one o'clock in Chapman, one of those second storey white-walled classrooms. The classroom was packed. Emily J. is also in this course: Imperial Rome and Its Legacy. The professor turned out to be quite a character: a skinny short wee chap, with a very pale face and deep dark bags under his eyes, a big black beard, and nearly shoulder-length black hair. He must just be out of his last degree. He kept talking about how small this class was, a perfect size for discussion, though it has to be one of the biggest courses I've been in my whole time at TU (20-30 people). He also reserved for himself the right to swear, except in cases where students found it appropriate. "Be respectful," he told us. (!) Today, of course, was just reading through the syllabus and introductions, but it promises to be an interesting class. Lectures on early Christianity and Roman culture later on.

After class I took care of all the small errands that had to be done: buying a coursepack in the library, paying a small overdue fine, making sure the library knew that it had listed me incorrectly as having checked out a book, and so forth.

At four o'clock, I was supposed to meet with Ms. S at the CGE about the next newsletter. I walked over to the CGE trying not to brood, asserting still a faith that God is good and over this. The CGE was, of course, as busy and cheerful as ever. Everyone there is always smiling, it seems. Ms. S and I ironed out the list of articles (five!) that they want me to write, the contacts, the focuses, etc. Then I said good afternoon.

Back in my apartment, I fired off half-a-dozen e-mails to people requesting interviews for the newsletter. Then I texted Nicole to ask if she still wanted to make tea for the Ks. She did. So I ran over to her apartment. We were just getting ready to head to the shop, having decided which dishes to make and made a list of ingredients, when Rachel Sr. rang. Nicole said to ask her if she wanted to join us, so I invited her over.

We drove to Reasor's on 15th Street and bought what we needed. The shop was really crowded. Back in Nicole's apartment, we started to cook. I made barbecued chicken; Rachel diced vegetables for a roasted vegetables-with-cream dish, and Nicole worked on short bread. We were all very quiet. Rachel Jr. and Amy came back from tea together, sat down, and put on a "Scrubs" DVD. Amy's laughter was infectious, and pretty soon both Rachels were laughing with her. Nicole was frustrated: she accidentally melted the butter for the short bread instead of softening it, then put the concoction in the freezer, then forgot about it and so had to melt it again. The chicken took ages to cook, and then when we put the vegetables in, the potatoes simply would not soften. Eventually, though, Amy and Rachel Jr. both left. We waited around and waited around. Rachel and I sat down on the sofa, and Nicole sprawled on the floor. The wind was seething under the windowsills and howling around the corners of the apartment. We decided to tell a round story.

Our round story was short and sweet this time, about a little girl who lived in a valley with a cat named Felix, a dog named Joanna, and a cage of little yellow birds. The wind blew so strongly that it terrified her birds until they wouldn't sing and started to lose their feathers, so the little girl asked the wind to stop. She threw spices onto the wind, but the wind said that wasn't enough. So then she walked all the way to the next town to the library and asked the librarian for help. The librarian gave her some advice. The little girl made a whole bunch of pinwheels and stuck them in the grass far away from her cottage. "You can play with these over here all you like," she told the wind. The wind was delighted and swooped first one way, then another way through the pinwheels--leaving the little girl peacefully in her cottage, and the birds beginning to sing again.

When we finished our story, we watched an episode of "Hogan's Heroes", which was amusing. Nicole finally decreed the potatoes done, so she rang Mrs. K to ask if we could deliver the food. Outside, the night had become frigid, a north wind roaring down through the sky. The Ks were all in their dining room with some friends over, working on odds and ends of homework, bits of sewing, curling hair, whatever. They welcomed us warmly. We left the food and said good-night.

We went silently back to campus. Said good-night to Nicole. I ran over to Crystal's apartment to say hello to her since she's still working on her senior project, due Wednesday. Went straight to bed back in the apartment.