Father's Day - The Aftermath

I know this is a little late, but I wanted to post about our Father's day, lest Marty forget sometime in the next 12 months how deeply he is loved and appreciated.

If I had done my job as family photographer on Sunday, you would see close-up shots of thickly sliced homemade French toast - stacked high, dusted with powdered sugar, topped with piles of strawberries and a swirl of whipped cream... a tiny crystal pitcher of maple syrup... steaming sausage links lined up on a crystal platter... and a goblet of milk, all served to Marty in bed on a beautiful wooden tray complete with heirloom white cloth napkin and red rose cut from our garden.

{Insert photo of Marty's three-hour uninterrupted nap here. Oh, and presents.}

Fast forward several hours to dinner, and you would feast your eyes on broiled sirloin steaks, gigantic baked potatoes adorned with sour cream and chives, and succulently ripe slices of summer watermelon. And of course, dessert: Tillamook mountain blackberry ice cream, accompanied by homemade shortbread cookies and chunks of Ghirardelli dark chocolate.

Unfortunately, I was a tad busy, and didn't manage to snap any photos until the next morning; hence all you get to see is what was left of my kitchen. You'll just have to use your imagination.