Now Playing: Andrew Peterson, "Resurrection Letters, Vol. II", "The Good Confession (I Believe)".

Another of those apparently idyllic days, Crystal.

The alarm went off at six o'clock this morning. My mother, pastor's wife, and a couple of other women from church go out walking together at six o'clock, except for when one of them has a birthday. Then they meet at Panera for breakfast at half six in the morning.

The sunrise was beautiful, eyebrow pink and purple clouds raised across aquamarine sky, burnt umber and orange just along the horizon, rich, gritty colors. Panera was nearly deserted at that hour, as is to be expected in a town full of university students. There are a couple of "regulars" who are always there, every morning, including one slim older woman who said, "Oh, you all are back! I've missed you!" and gave up her seat on the sofas behind the fireplace just for us.

Mrs. P, Mrs. C, and my mother settled themselves chuckling on the fat leather sofas, pleased. Stephanie joined us. We ordered breakfast. Cinnamon crunch bagels and ginger tea, very good. The women chattered and giggled about all sorts of things--mostly having to do with their children. Dawn came quickly outside.

We went our separate ways at about eight o'clock. My father had already left for work by the time we were home. I went straight upstairs, changed out of my nice clothes into running clothes, and sat down at my desk to revise for the GRE. Maths. Percentages, fractions, square roots, and absolute values--oh, yes, my best friends ever, particularly at that hour of the morning.

In the middle of revising, the phone rang. It was a woman at the library requesting an interview with me this Thursday for the position I've applied for. First call back to date. (Incidentally, after lunch, Mrs. E, our neighbor across the street who's been taking a lively interest in the job hunt proceedings, came over with the business card of a friend of hers who runs the Domestic Violence Shelter here. My mother glowed with pleasure. I, on the other hand, feel as overwhelmed as ever, sick to my stomach with all the expectations.)

By ten o'clock I had had enough maths, and I went outside to get the neighbor's dog, Moochy. (Laura and I object to the name somewhat since it sounds ridiculous when shouted.) She was full of life, as usual, which meant two enormous muddy paw prints on my shirt by the time I managed to clip the lead onto her collar.

My mother decided to come with me. We walked over to Boomer Lake and around it. The morning was amazingly cool. Moochy trotted happily beside the path, sniffing everything and greeting every dog we met. A big heron eyed us dourly from a log under a bank, and geese flew crying through the chilly sky.

My mother showed us a grove of trees on the hilltop above the lake. One of the women who lives in a house adjacent to the lake keeps a gorgeous garden, full of flowers, and a cooler of water by her back gate for frisbee golf players who get thirsty. My mother gave Moochy a drink out of a plastic cup, and then we walked home.

It was a quarter past noon by the time we were back. I showered. Stephen came back from his Latin class, and we ate lunch. Then I sat down to finish revising for today.

After that, work was just beginning. I had finished a couple of e-mails and was on Facebook replying to Mr. L when Catherine messaged me. So I sat down on the floor under the window and talked to her on Skype for an hour-and-a-half. Since I was sitting on the floor by the bookshelf, I opened two of the photo albums from two years ago. Laughed with her on the phone about all those times.

After that, I worked on an e-mail to Naomi for awhile. At about a quarter to six, Nicole rang. Caught up on each other's lives. We talked a lot about books, too: Wodehouse, Allingham, Woolf, Hugo. And when she rang off, Anna rang.

As a result, I missed eating tea with my parents and Stephen. But when I got downstairs to eat, Laura had just rung, and my mother was talking to her on the phone while my father started to wash the dishes. I sat by the phone and listened in on the conversation. My mother was full of questions, and Laura was full of answers and more questions, so between the two of them they were talking away happily.

After she rang off, my father read Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian. We had family worship.

When I went upstairs to bed, Annie came and sat in my lap. She purred and put her head on my chest and nudged me whenever I stopped rubbing her ears. To me being with this cat (in a good mood) is relaxing and reassuring. She's so complacent, so content, so happy with the pleasure of the moment.