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Dear Baby

How to fix something instead of replacing it.

 I'm really bad at this one. I tend to replace, replace, replace.

For example: A coffeemaker. If you go online, you read about hardened calcium? Or something like this? And the de-calcification process? Good Lord. I see this, and my head spins. Your other dad says: Maybe appliances aren't your terrain. Maybe thank-you card writing and cooking are the skills to focus on.

 There are two cases where I did pseudo-fix an item, and I'm proud:

(1) I broke a French press from a valued friend. Instead of trashing the (functional) plunger, I paired it with an over-sized coffee mug--like the kind you'd see on "Friends," in Central Perk--and this was a triumph. A newly-re-fashioned French press.

(2) I had a copy of the John Williams novel "Stoner," and I spilled salsa on the title page. I was really pissed, because I loved this book; I thought it was holy. I'm neurotic about keeping my books in pristine condition. But I did not trash "Stoner"; I took out a pen and turned the stain into a doodle of a small daisy. This felt therapeutic.

In relationships, I tend to take a "guillotine" approach. Damage seems irreparable; ties get frayed, and substantial parts of one's life can disappear. I'd like to change that.

This is what I think about fixing-and-replacing.
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