Waking up in a huge comfortable bed was a wonderful change of pace. We started the day in true French fashion, very slowly. We took our time enjoying the light streaming through the window, the sheep baaing and cocks crowing outside, content in the knowledge that we didn't have to pack our entire lives away when we finally got up.
After sprawling, snuggling, and drifting in and out of consciousness for most of the morning I got up to take a hot, indoor shower with delicious-smelling shower gels. One of my guilty pleasures is using other people's bath products. I am in heaven here at the L'Hostis's house :) The French sure do love their Sephora, Yves Rocher, l'Occitaine and countless other brands of fancy soaps and shampoos.
After my shower, I found Tyler had set up the laptop and was already working from the comfort of our bed. I went downstairs, meanwhile, and contemplated what to make for breakfast. In the pantry I found no flour but I did find a box of Bisquick (which we later learned Claire had bought during her trip to Canada about three years ago…) and it was tough deciding between pancakes or biscuits. I reasoned to myself there was no maple syrup so biscuits it was! Though all I did was follow the instructions, stirring milk into the Bisquick, it still felt fantastic to bake in a real kitchen with a full-sized, real oven. I brought a plate up to Tyler, dripping with butter and honey, and we enjoyed the now novel concept of breakfast in bed.
The rest of the day passed quickly and was spent working, talking to Tyler's mom and his brothers and sisters on Skype. The phone rang late in the afternoon and it was Philippe calling to say that they would be home around 8:00. I wanted to have something to eat ready for my friends when they arrived, so I called the small Vival grocery store before we biked over, just to make sure they would be open. A gruff man answered the phone, and I asked politely if they were open. "Well, obviously we're open—I answered the phone, didn't I?" was the reply I got. Gee thanks, a**hole. And so Tyler and I hopped on our bikes about ten minutes later and cycled the short distance to the store. When we arrived, the store was dark and the door was locked. Ah France.
Pascale, Philippe, and Claire arrived as scheduled, tired and very happy to see us. Hugs and kisses all around, catching up, and figuring out what to make for dinner followed. As it turned out, Philippe, a fellow lover of cooking, was happy to be home and inhabit the kitchen once again. He set about making Breton crepes (made with buckwheat flour) while the rest of us set the table.
We spent a long, unhurried evening drinking various wines Philippe was proud to unearth from his cave. He explained each one to us, and even absconded with Tyler to show him the fine subtleties of wine storage. They returned bearing dusty bottles which were promptly uncorked and generously poured, leading to a long evening of talking, drinking, and making plans for the rest of our stay.