Let me tell you a little something about this picture. It may not look like much, but to me it was. I was my first ever attempt to make spaghetti and (turkey) meatballs. From scratch.
Ok the meatballs were from scratch, the sauce not so much. But lets not split hairs here people. I tried really hard. I hand mixed, made and rolled those stupid turkey meatballs.
Since Wyatt was suppose to be home early from his clinic tonight I decided to make dinner. From scratch. Now I don't do this very often, because, well it's hard and I'm not very good at it. And it never works out. So home early from the clinic tonight I took to mean 8:15-8:30'ish (as he didn't get home from the clinic the night before until after 9). Cool. I can work with that.
So at like 7, when I got home from work, errands, etc, I started cooking. From 7 to 8:30 I cooked. And read recipes. And tried really f'ing hard.
At 8:15 or so it was done'ish and staying warm. Around 8:45 I started to wonder what the deal was. 9:15ish he strolls in the door.
I guess having beers with the boys trumps your girlfriend cooking dinner.