I’m known as the “fixer” because I have a certain amount of success in gluing together broken bits of china, repairing toys, and mending torn clothing…just call me the all around problem solver.
The original Angel Boy recently came to me with a few hand sewing tasks; a ripped seam in his windbreaker, tighten the upper arms of his gardening sleeves where the elastic stretched out so they won’t fall down, (which is super annoying), and sew or iron patches on AB2’s jeans, where he must slide on one knee A LOT,
After I completed my work under the watchful eye of my faithful sidekick, Angel Girl, she rummaged around in her room for something for me to repair (she doesn’t like to be left out of anything) and ran back with a dress that had short-ish butterfly sleeves that didn’t meet her high fashion standards.
“I don’t like this part, Grandma, so you can fix it.”
I took a look at it and figured it wouldn’t be a too difficult job to remove the flutter sleeves and resew the seams, which I did.
It made her very happy.
Later, while mom was giving her a bath, I could hear them chatting about her day. All of a sudden, she said, “I’ve got to give this to Grandma.”
She jumped out of the tub and came running into my room dripping wet, holding a raggedy torn and tattered washcloth full of holes.
“Here you go, Grandma, fix this.”
It must have been washed dozens of times and there really wasn’t any life left and sadly, that worn out fabric was far beyond my capabilities to magically repair, but I love the faith and confidence that angel has in me as the “fixer”, the one she can count on to make things right and restore everything back to the way they should be.
Yup, I’m a fixer, but not always.






