Our story so far: As reality has caught up with this blog about converting a 126-year-old Methodist church into our home, I’ve run across a few odds and ends that occurred after I wrote about the subject initially. That’s how it goes with a real-time memoir. Sometimes stuff happens after publication. So this week, I’m sharing a few little stories that will ultimately be integrated into the relevant location in the memoir. Think of this as the time in the novel—especially a mystery novel—when you page back to reread a few passages to remind yourself about what’s going on. Here’s a tidbit for Chapter 18.

# # #

We ordered samples of rigid polyurethane foam beams, and we were duly impressed. Lighter and more durable than actual wood beams and more affordable, these faux beams would be installed on the ceiling of the sanctuary-cum-great room. After getting a look at samples of pecan and antique cherry, we decided to go with antique cherry, and Tyler’s fingers flew across his keyboard getting them ordered.

About ten days later, a semi-truck slowly turned into the street in front of the church. Delivery men (and they were invariably male) frequently looked confused when they compared the address on their clipboards to the building to which they were about to deliver a bath tub, a hearth stone or a bunch of faux beams. When he’d confirmed he was indeed at the right place, he opened the back of the truck to reveal a pile of very long boxes, all with reinforced corners. These foam beams were packaged like crystal wine glasses; the packaging was heavier than the beams themselves. A little team work got the beams of assorted lengths inside the sanctuary, and now we would sidestep them for several weeks until after all the drywall was installed.

# # #

Tomorrow: The back door. See it here.