Hubby uploaded the photos from our recent trip into his computer. I was excited to view the pics and squeezed half a butt cheek into his seat. We brought a tripod this time and had more shots of ourselves together.
His techie nature immediately kicked in, and he started deleting photos that did not pass his standards. "What are you doing?" I asked in panic and grabbed both of his hands to prevent him from eliminating more.
He said he was omitting the ones where we looked ugly, were not smiling, failed to look straight at the camera, or shots that were blurry. I took the SD card, popped it into my own computer, and saved everything.
I picked a song, called hubby over and started the slide show.
One by one, the photos appeared on the screen. A close up shot with whiteheads and nose hair. One with red faces that time we argued. Some where our eyes strayed to passing hunks. And those where at least one of us fell out of focus.
We laughed the whole time we were watching the photos. I dragged the pics into the latest of a series of folders simply named "Us", a collection that to me was perfect in being flawed. And I'm not talking just about the photos.