Every few months I get it together enough to go back through the oodles of iphone photos and snap and shoot photos stored away in digital land on our computer. I used to love to rush to Eckerd to go get my pictures developed right after a trip in college to the beach or to a date weekend away. I would immediately put them in their own album and forget about the trip and the picture by the time the next event had come up. Needless to say, like every other sorority girl-pre-facebook days, I have a billion photo albums of things I'll probably never care to look at with the exception to a few really good trips or really good summers.
Anyway, one thing that is constantly on my to-do list is to print photos of the boys and to put them into albums according to the year. Of course I was great the first go round but unfortunately, number two barely makes the headlines enough (because of the toddler who is into everything) to get a photo taken of him.
I digress.....today was one of those days and during the boys nap I uploaded 59 pictures since New Years to a local drug stores photo lab. Tonight I swung by the store on the way home from a take-out dinner to pick up my photos. I buzzed in, paid the tall man, and left with my pack of photos in hand. 9 times out of 10 I rummage through the pictures while on site in order to throw out any shots that didn't process correctly. Today I didn't. I was hungry and in a hurry and exhausted.
I came home and luckily ate my dinner first. We quickly put the house in some kind or order and I raced to the sun room to put the last four months of our lives in an album.
What do you think is the moral of the story? Please choose below.
A) Never send 59 half nude poses of yourself on your couch and your barstool to a local drug store to be processed without knowing there could be a slight chance that your photos are placed in the package of a now-scarred mother of two rather than the package with your name on it.
B) Never leave said drug store without first checking to see that there are 59 pictures of your smiling babies rather than some poor Atlanta-womans' hiney and such spattered all over your pictures.
Beg God for the Miracle of Humility
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