Last night's dinner was particularly tasty. Imagine crispy chicken breasts atop a bed of spinach on a hollowed-out chunk of Italian bread, topped with gooey mozzarella cheese and smothered in tomato sauce with a sprinkling of garlic chips.
Sound good? It was.
But I have no proof.
My camera batteries are dead. Also dead? The batteries in both Wii remotes, the remote for the DVD player, and in my travel alarm clock - which were all just discovered last night.
Instead of photos, I have words. 263 words to be exact.
If the camera batteries hadn't been dead, I would have photographed last night's meal to share with you here. I would have snapped process photos to show you all the steps I took to prepare it. A bottle of wine, cracked open for the tomato sauce would have found its way onto my camera's memory card, and a photo of the final evening light slipping out the back kitchen window would definitely have been taken. Ava was being particularly cute (shocking) last night, and that would have been captured on film, as would have Jason's crazy hat hair. There even might have been a picture of Jason and I, teary-eyed on the couch as we watched Steve Carrel's final episode of The Office. A photo of two Wii remotes and a DVD remote and a travel alarm clock lying ravished, with their (dead and useless) batteries hastily thrown down beside them probably would be gracing the homepage today.
But, my camera batteries were dead. So all I have are words.
263 of them.
Please send camera batteries.