Fixer-Upper I have a soft spot for houses that have potential, or as some people like to call them, fixer uppers. So does my daughter Kaity. She inherited that part of me. I look at a shack and see a mansion. I walk through overgrowth and see a beautiful garden. The viewed as hopeless thrills me; makes my what-could-be senses tingle. Not everyone looks at a blank canvas and sees a masterpiece. Thank God. I'm grateful for those of us endowed with the gift of planning and practicality; those not afraid to ask the tough questions. This world needs not only dreamers, but anchors as well. My wife and I recently went to look at a house that Kaity and her husband Paul were considering buying. We drove up the slight hill to the house, turned left (eyeing the neighbor's do not trespass sign) and parked on the property. I think my wife's heart may have sunk a little. My heart soared. She saw the work, the investment required, the dirty kitchen stove. I saw a brand new yard,...
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