"Oh, darn! It won't fit in the bag."
Something about the way one of the college shoots put away her leftover, late-night frozen pizza yesterday reminded me of a story from back in the "old days".
Back when Naomi was still predominant.
I had a friend who was a Creative Memories consultant, and when she saw the way I had "stored" our family photographs, she told me I could be her poster child for "what not to do".
She couldn't live with the thought of what was happening to our precious pictures, so one day she came over to make a first attempt at bringing them to order.
She brought several plastic totes/bins full of supplies and spent the day showing me how to get the photos in chronological order.
When it was time for her to leave, I asked Techie to help her load her things into her van.
He grabbed one of the crates and followed her out to the van.
After she'd loaded the things she'd brought out, she came in for more while Techie tried to fit his crate in among the other boxes.
She was surprised to see him still struggling to make the box fit when she returned.
"Oh, Techie. Just shove it in there."
"I didn't do that because my mom always tells me, "The rule is: If it doesn't fit, don't force it."
"Oh, really?
"Know what I always tell my kids?"
"The rule is: Beat to fit, paint to match."
Techie nearly fainted.
Years later, when my Seester and her grown daughter were painting her kitchen, I remarked about how fast they seemed to be getting the job done.
Her daughter said, "That's because we're shredders."
Shredders?
"You're one of those people who goes searching for the scissors so you can carefully cut the tags off of new purchases. You're a cutter. We just yank 'em off. We're shredders. And it takes less time."
Don't tell Naomi, but...
Gwen is a shredder, and she beats to fit and paints to match.