Our story so far: The windows in the sanctuary of the old Methodist church were reglassed so we could see our yard.
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About this time, I witnessed the strange details one must pay attention to when one is renovating a hundred-year-old church, and in this case, rehabbing the doors.
These doors, too, had to be painted. We had replaced the exterior doors to the entryway, but a second set of double doors divided the entryway from the sanctuary. At one time, when there was no entryway, only exterior steps, these doors now between rooms might have been the exterior doors so they were one-and-three-quarters inch thick. We wanted to remove the top wood panels and replace with glass, so we could see our entryway from the sanctuary. But like so many wishes that weren’t horses, this was not easily done. The door was a single solid piece of wood, and even You-Can-Call-Me-Al with all his carpentry experience and tools was skeptical he could cut out these holes. And even if he succeeded in doing that, he wasn’t sure about trimming out the glass again.
Much debate ensued. We shopped for alternative doors and discovered quickly we would have to buy (and wait for) custom ones because our ancient doors were extra thick and two inches taller than modern doors. You-Can-Call-Me-Al, who didn’t want to ruin our doors with a mistaken cut, reminded us how much more insulating modern doors would be.
But we didn’t want to wait (or waste perfectly good doors) so we urged You-Can-Call-Me-Al to try cutting holes in the doors so Low Talker could paint them with the rest of the doors.
You-Can-Call-Me-Al gamely tried.
And succeeded. (“It wasn’t easy!” he told me later. “I knew you could do it,” I said.)
Our original doors could be painted with everything else and glassed. Another reuse project on track.
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Tomorrow: Chapter 36: Instead of an addition, a deletion.