We slept in late again this morning, and when we finally did get up, there was the usual dithering about what to have for breakfast, until I decided to make experimental chocolate crepes with cream cheese filling (I did the crepes, while Richard was responsible for the filling). They turned out absolutely delicious, which would be a bonus except for the fact that neither of us bothered to write down any sort of measurements, so who knows if we’ll be able to replicate them at some point in the future. Ah well.

After breakfast (or rather, brunch, considering how late in the morning it was before we dragged ourselves out of bed), we opened all the doors and windows upstairs to take advantage of the lovely (albeit chilly) weather outside, and then gave the house (or at least the upstairs half) a much-needed cleaning. We’re both feeling a lot better, but it’s frustrating to get worn out so quickly, just from doing simple chores.

Richard’s parents and youngest sister arrived this evening, bearing birthday presents for Richard. About two hours before they were to arrive, I suddenly remembered that I needed to bake a cake, so I dashed off to the store to get all the necessary ingredients, then came home and whipped up Richard’s (belated) birthday cake (spice cake with chocolate frosting, which is his favorite). I figure this is a distinct improvement over last year, since this year at least I left it with enough time for the cake to cool sufficiently so I could frost it before they arrived.

We all went out for dinner at our favorite local place, and then returned to the house to open presents and eat cake and ice cream and play with kittens (wrapping paper and ribbon are awesome things to kittens. And then after they had headed back toward home, Richard and I collapsed on the couch (see above about still getting worn out too easily) and watched two movies from the collection of science fiction movies I’d gotten him for Christmas. And I have to admit, I really do love those things. The old black and white science fiction movies were all so wonderfully earnest about themselves, with their dire predictions of what the world could eventually be.

Tis the season for Holidailies.