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To appreciate this little story that I will eventually get around to telling, you need to know a little about my maternal bloodline. You see, long before real-estate ads latched on to the word “fixer-upper,” my maternal Grandmother was one. She was a woman who put her faith in action verbs, however, not in defining nouns. “Go fix up,” she’d say to my mother. “Fix your face” and “fix your hair” were variations on the same chord in a minor key. Mother repeated the refrain to me, and I in turn to my three daughters.
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