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I’ll let you in on a little secret. Nathan – yeah, he is the most romantic guy EVER. (Eyeroll, by the way.)

Nathan just sold gadget after gadget on Craigslist in the last few days. His laptop is getting a little out of date. It predates Finn. And for a serious Apple Fanboy – he just bought the Microsoft Surface, which is half iPad, half laptop as far as I’m concerned. I’ll miss the glowing apple on the cover when he’s working. Oh, it was so sleek, so sexy… I cannot belive that I am talking about a computer.

Anywho, this new dohicky is pretty cool. It comes with a stylus, and we had fun farting around and digitally doodling for a good five minutes. I was relaxing on the couch, going over Disney World plans for this summer, and Nathan is just chillin’ away, fiddling with the new gadget…

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I’m not sure why I got such a kick out of him sitting there like that, but I totally felt like Kate Winslet in Titanic. Only I had my clothes on. And I wasn’t on a doomed ocean liner. And let’s face it, Nathan is not Leonardo DiCaprio. (But, really, am I the only woman alive who totally doesn’t understand everyone else’s regard for Leo? Every time I see him, all I can picture is What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.)

So I say to him (and I’m mighty pleased with myself for being able to remember all the way back to 1997), “Draw me like one of your French girls.”

Like this…

I laugh at my little dated pop culture cleverness while Nathan gives me one of his slightly patronizing chuckles and keeps doing whatever he is doing. I keep yapping about airfare and park tickets and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. Then he shows me this:

He drew me like a French girl. Or, rather, he took a picture of me and drew arrows pointing at my boobs. And provided written commentary.

outgoing-image

The resemblance is truly uncanny, no?

A man after my own heart, that one. Since everyone is wondering, this is what I look like when I am discussing the finer points of my dream vacation.

Also, my boobs do look pretty good there, though my flabby arms do not. I will mourn “the girls'” demise when they deflate post-breastfeeding. Two fried eggs. That’s all they will be.

Oh, and here is the token cute pic of the weekend for the grandmas; Alice and Finny enjoying movie time, since a post about my husband’s delightful sense of humor and my boobs is a little flat. (Pun alert!)

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