Tag: Converted Church

First world problem

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: My husband and I had spent months transforming a 126-year-old Methodist church into a home.

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Chapter 26

All the screen time Americans had been accumulating over the years has had a toxic impact not only on our attention spans but in our landfills.

We inherited—or bought, I guess—an old tube television when we acquired the old Methodist church. It sat in the basement in all its bloated 1980s glory, who knew if it worked anymore. We planned sleek flat-screen televisions in our new space, and even if the old TV worked, it didn’t work for us. I was reminded of a college art project in which we students removed the tube screens from old console televisions and created dioramas inside that made high-minded cultural statements of one sort of another. We recycled and learned something at the same time. Win-win.

That was 1987. The television landscape had changed in thirty years.

All the locations that accepted our old housewares like Goodwill and Restore wanted nothing to do with old electronics. Old televisions were as desirable as old cassette tapes. Ancient technology.

OK, so we’d recycle it. I did a little checking around.

Would the garbage man take it away? Nope.

How about the scrap metal yard where we’d hauled several truck loads of heating ducts, aluminum siding and copper-studded hunks of metal? We would leave there with enough jingle in our pockets for lunch. Alas, no. A big sign declared “No TVs.”

I recalled recycling a number of electronics in the past at Best Buy. Would the Big Box store take our TV?

Sure. For a price: Twenty-five dollars to recycle one old TV.

Wow.

Old television sets are filled with toxic components like lead, mercury, flame retardants, cadmium, beryllium and other terms one hasn’t heard since eighth grade chemistry. The value of the good stuff—platinum, gold, silver and copper—doesn’t outweigh the trouble of responsibly getting rid of the bad. It’s a huge problem in a society where its citizens upgrade their computers and TVs more often than they observe leap year. Think about how many television sets you’ve owned in your lifetime. Where are they now? The landfill?

I wasn’t the only one struggling to dump a TV. Once I realized how difficult it was to get rid of an old TV, I began seeing them everywhere. One of our neighbors left eight—eight! I counted!—televisions and computer monitors on the curb for four months, through drifting snow and falling rain. We wrinkled our noses in disgust every time we drove by. Then we left for a getaway one weekend, and when we returned, they were gone.

old tvs
These old TVs were loved once. But no more.

Other folks in town had less obvious eyesores in their yards. A TV here, a couple there. Our rental house had a TV in the dungeonesque basement. I fantasized about playing the village TV fairy—taking all of them away and paying the reverse ransom to get rid of them.

Though troubled by the problem of excess and the resulting detritus, I was too cheap to play fairy.

We didn’t have the space to keep even one junk TV in the basement of the church, and we had too much pride to leave it sitting on the curb indefinitely. I sacrificed a lunch one day and ponied up the cash to let Best Buy take the dinosaur TV off our hands.

Part of me felt morally superior for getting rid of the old TV responsibly. And part of me felt guilty for coveting the flashy flat-screen models on display.

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Tomorrow: Some old things get more valuable over time. Read about it here.

The roots of all goodness lie in the soil of appreciation for goodness

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: Over the phone late one afternoon, my husband told me he was excited about a “big score,” and he summoned me forthwith to the church we were renovating into our home. 

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dump truck
The view from my windshield: Dumping a load of dirt.

As I exited my truck, I heard the foreman telling Tyler he had two more loads. Did he want them?

“Yes! I’ll take all the dirt you’ve got!” Tyler told him.

The semi truck and the foreman left the scene, and Tyler, sipping a beer, regaled me with the story of his score.

school dirt digging
The origin of the dirt: It came from the school yard across the street.

That morning, Tyler was knee-deep (quite literally) in his garage foundation construction project. He noticed an enormous backhoe digging a hole in the here-to-fore green yard of the elementary school. Huh, it had looked like the construction workers over there were wrapping things up, and now they were turning new soil.

Naturally, Tyler didn’t let curiosity gnaw at him. He walked over to find out what was going on. He was told they were building a turn-around for trucks that delivered lunch to the school.

“What are you doing with all that black dirt?” Tyler asked. It was rich, beautiful black dirt (if dirt can be beautiful—apparently, the blacker the dirt, the more organic matter and nutrients are in it).

“Haul it away, I guess,” the foreman told him.

Tyler offered to let them haul it one block. Straight to the church. His offer was one the foreman couldn’t refuse. Rather than pay a driver to haul it an hour away, he could niftily get rid of it only a block away.

“We’d pay $600 a load for black soil of that quality,” Tyler told me when I expressed disappointment that his score turned out to be … dirt. Only a gardener could appreciate the value of dirt; I was not a gardener.

two loads of dirt
That’s a mighty lot of dirt.

Well, we were the proud new owners of four semi-loads of black dirt, enough for a king-sized berm.

“The timing is perfect,” he continued. “I’ve got a grader right now to move it around.”

Indeed, he did. His cousin had lent his to us for our garage project.

Lucky us.

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Today’s headline is a quote from the Dalai Lama.

Tomorrow: Chapter 26 tells the story of ancient technology. Read about it here.

Every flower that blooms has to go through a whole lot of dirt

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: While we renovated the old Methodist church into our home, construction workers were building a new addition to the elementary school across the street.

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One afternoon as I was returning home after an afternoon of cuddling with our new granddaughter, I checked in with Tyler. He was breathlessly excited on the other end of the line.

“Oh boy, did I ever score this afternoon! What a score! Come straight to the church and find out what I scored!”

Apparently, he scored. Something.

church watercolor
A former member gave us this framed watercolor painting of the church.

I began conjuring up what would thrill him so. Recently, we had given a former member of the church a tour, and she gifted us with a watercolor painting of the church that had come into her possession. It was beautiful and meaningful, and we would certainly hang it in the hall of history. Did some other interested party drop off something equally significant? Or maybe he found something in the church. Another member mentioned losing a class ring in the church yard—did he find it when he was digging around? Alas, no class ring turned up, but maybe Tyler found something else—a piece of jewelry? A time capsule? Gosh, he sounded so enthused. Maybe he came into some money from some unknown benefactor. What could it be?

As I pulled up in front of the church, a semi-truck blocked the street. The back of the truck was filled with dirt, and some unknown foreman was directing the driver to dump his load.

In our yard.

I began getting the picture that it wasn’t jewelry he found.

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Tomorrow: The benefactor is revealed. Read about it here.

Tale of two buildings

Monica Lee3 Comments

Our story so far: Over the course of six months, we’d made good progress first demolishing then building inside the 126-year-old Methodist church we were intent on turning into our home. When spring arrived, we began work on the garage and yard.

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Chapter 25

When we closed on the church in November, we were consumed with our own little construction project, blithely unaware of one occurring right across the street.

Sure, we could see something was going on over there in the elementary school, but to our uninitiated and self-centered eyes, it was just another remodel or addition or whatever it was, just steer clear of our construction vehicles, we’re doing important work over here.

Of course, school construction projects are enormous community affairs given they are publicly financed and ultimately house a precious commodity: Children. Whatever was going on over there was a big deal to everyone but us.

I learned later from local folks who took an interest in our project and toured the church that the only original part of the school that was left—built in 1908—was razed just a few months before we moved to town (imagine the circus surrounding that! We filled two dumpsters; the school probably filled fifty!). The construction workers we saw coming and going were working on a building to replace the decrepit structure. The people who mentioned it to us were a little bit nostalgic about the demolished building. First the school got torn down, then somebody purchased the old church with plans to do who knows what to it. The wistful ones were kind to us, but a little sad.

school
The lawn in front of the new school building looked ready to be seeded or sodded.

Just as we chipped away, little by little, on our renovation, the school district made steady progress on theirs. By springtime, we could see workers paving a parking lot, surely a sign they were nearly done. A monument of sorts containing what looked like the old school bell was erected. Ah, another historic bell. This one had probably been used to begin many school days long ago. So the district was paying tribute to what had gone before, just as we were.

school bell
Ring my bell. No ladder required.

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Tomorrow: Tyler makes a score. Of something. Read about it here.

We only needed one shade of grey

Monica Lee2 Comments

Our story so far: As we renovated the old Methodist church into our home, we chose stone for the fireplace and the counter tops, and we were pleased with the poured concrete for the garage.

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The easiest stone to install at the church was the decorative rock we purchased to border the exterior.

The gravel that was there was old, tired and indistinct. Tyler wanted to freshen up the look, so he took me to the nearby landscaping supply store (where we had ordered a fireplace hearth) to browse the options. In the past, we might have used fresh mulch next to the foundation of the church, but we did that with the first house we owned together, and it just invited bugs inside. So we left the mulch to insulate the roots of the bushes on the perimeter of the church property.

stone options
Concrete bins as far as the eye could see offered up gravel options.

Until that morning, I had no idea there were so many different gravels, rocks and crushed stones with which to decorate a yard. Like to many things in my life, I just wasn’t paying attention. We could choose from every shade of gray and brown, plus a few blues and reds, in every size from pea gravel to boulders.

grey slate
Grey Slate: Hmm, that would be a great nom de plume for a romantic novelist.
slate close up
Gravel with flare.

We were drawn to the grey slate with its rocks shaped to skip across a pond. It glittered in the sun with fifty shades of grey, mind you, not gray. I liked the cool blue hue which I didn’t know at the time but was very pleased to realize coordinated perfectly with the color the foundation was already painted.

We also chose some edge stones. Tyler and his hired man St. Johnny sweated it out to place the stones and spread the slate, and when they were done, it rocked.

slate in situ
The church, in her new grey slate flounce, is winking at you.

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Tomorrow: Chapter 25 opens with the story of another construction project. Read about it here.

The foundation for all that will be mancave

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: We were in the midst of the heavy lifting—it was all things stone—for the old Methodist church we were turning into a residence.

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The footings had been poured. Untold loads of gravel hauled in. The steps formed.

After a couple of rain delays, it was time to pour the foundation for the garage.

Tyler was so excited that day, he got up even earlier than normal. He couldn’t wait for me to provide breakfast. He left before I got out of bed and pressed McDonald’s into service.

concrete pouring
Dawn breaks over the foundation job.

Tyler had ordered 6-1/2 bag mix concrete, the importance of which, like nuances of 5/8-inch drywall versus half-inch drywall, escaped me. The higher the number of cement bags added to the mix, the stronger it is and the better it performs when exposed to freeze-thaw cycles, as our garage would be on the north side of a southern Wisconsin house. Something about how the finishers finished the edges of the concrete also pleased Tyler.

All I knew was that it looked mighty smooth and flat when the day was done, which is all you can ask for in a good floor.

finished foundation
So smooth you can see your reflection.

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Tuesday: Chapter 24 concludes with a few chips off the old block. Read it here.

Stone cold

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: Stone for the fireplace, rock for the countertops, now we only needed to wrap up the concrete for the garage of the 126-year-old Methodist church we were turning into our home.

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Meanwhile, the concrete finishers were working on Tyler’s Garage Mahal, or at least the foundation for it.

back steps
The new back steps look like they were there the whole time.

With the footings poured, the concrete artists built the new back steps before proceeding with the pouring the foundation. Tyler, you’ll recall, jackhammered the top of the existing concrete steps to the basement for a new landing and new top steps. The finishers performed meticulously. When they completed their work, these pièces de résistance were the straightest, most level steps in the entire church!

While mighty fine, this stairway wouldn’t be complete until we had a walkway over the basement entry so we could exit out of the main-floor back door. Tyler considered building a wooden walkway over the bottom steps, but he decided he wanted something less deep so people using the back steps had less of a chance of dinging their head on the way down. To accomplish this structural feat, he would need a steel walkway.

As luck would have it, we drove by the back door of a workmanlike shop the next day on our way from the counter top store. It was just after 7 o’clock (we started early that day). Tyler pulled to an immediate stop when he saw a black leather apron-clad man standing in the doorway, taking a breather (he got an early start, too). His dog, menacing but beautiful, growled at us.

“What do you do here?” Tyler asked. It was just a question, but coming out of Tyler’s mouth, it sounded like a demand.

The guy stared at him for a moment, perplexed and maybe a little irked to be grilled by a passersby when he just wanted to enjoy a lull in the early spring morning.

“Whaddya mean?”

“I mean, what kind of work do you do here?”

“Fabrication,” the guy answered, still not impressed with being questioned.

“Perfect.” Tyler threw the truck into park and exited, greeting the dog with a “Hey, boy!”

I watched as Tyler explained he was looking for someone to build a steel platform for a walkway in our church. Like the dog who appreciated Tyler’s scratch behind the ears, the apron-clad man seemed to soften when he realized Tyler could be a customer.

“Sure, just stop by when you have some dimensions with you,” the guy said as Tyler departed.

Maybe every little village I’ve ever lived in has had a steel fabricator in town like the blacksmiths of old, and I just didn’t know it because I never had need for one. But I found this encounter to be another stroke of serendipity. When Tyler climbed back into the pickup so pleased he’d found a fabricator only four blocks from the church, I just looked at him, amazed.

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Tomorrow: So smooth you can see your reflection in it. Read about it here.

Found my marble

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: We saved some money by choosing quartz remnants, rather than a whole sheet, for the miscellaneous counter tops in the 126-year-old Methodist church we were converting into a home.

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The back lot of the nearby counter top store had a few distinctive gems—strange yet beautiful hunks of stone that would require display in a small, special place. I had just the place for one of these pieces.

antique coat rack
I snapped a quick picture of the antique coat rack when I saw it in the store, and I guess I captured an image of a shopper, too! Note the half-circle shelf.
mirror mirror
If this isn’t a mirror fit for an evil stepmother, I don’t know what would be! Who’s the fairest of them all?

Earlier in the year when we visited a nearby antique shop, a mirrored coat rack caught my eye. I thought I could create my own using a piece of stone and the ornate Mirror, Mirror on the Wall Tyler had purchased at an estate sale months right after we put an offer on the church. To support the shelf, I figured we could repurpose a corbel that had been used on the former decorative beams in the sanctuary. This would be both functional and beautiful in the front entryway of the church.

As I was shopping the back lot and describing this small half-circle piece I needed, the upbeat salesman directed me to a small piece of marble. It was mostly black with white veining and splashes of cinnamon and latte—stunning. Marble is porous, which means it’s susceptible to scratches and staining and therefore not the best choice as counter top for someone who actually cooks in their kitchen. It’s also expensive by the sheet. But a little bit of remnant would be just fine for my coat rack. I stared at it, squinting my eyes to imagine it in place.

Then the salesman told me the name of it: Michelangelo.

“Yeah, I need a piece of that,” I said.

michelangelo
Now that’s a standout piece of marble!

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Tomorrow: A work of art of another sort. Read about it here.

Perfectly posh

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: As we renovated the old Methodist church into our home, stone played a role in the design of our fireplace and bathrooms.

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shower curbs
This is a shot of our master shower, half tiled. But we’re getting there!

Our custom shower needed a curb, for which we wanted quartz. A shower curb is the threshold and door frame where the glass door hangs. Normally, homeowners choose the same material for the curb as they do for the vanity, but we didn’t have that luxury with our remnants. But in the midst of the back lot stacks, I found an oddly shaped remnant of Cambria quartz in Torquay, described in Cambria’s marketing materials as “an instant classic, Torquay offers a beautiful marble-like appearance that’s both posh and continental, much like this English Riviera town itself.” The copy writer had me at “marble-like.” Is posh transitional? I decided it was. The remnant I found would yield the pieces we needed to complement the tile in the shower.

For an idea of how much money we saved by using quartz remnants, we acquired a quote for a new piece of quartz on the beverage bar, a space of roughly eighteen square feet, that came to $2,353, measured, fabricated and installed. The remnant we chose for that space came to $928. And by shopping remnants, I took advantage of an opportunity to select a stone I would never be able to afford if I were buying entire sheets of it.

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Tomorrow: Have I lost my marbles? Read about it here.

Danger: Woman shopping

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: When it came to shopping for counter tops in the old Methodist church we were turning into our home, we had one thing in mind: Remnants.

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Shopping the stacks of stone in the counter top shop’s back lot was a little like shopping in a high-end purse retailer—everything looked good. But choosing remnants for the bathrooms vanities was straightforward. I knew I wanted light and clean so I zeroed in on anything white. Because we chose to insert makeup nooks at a slightly lower elevation than the counters in both vanities, we didn’t require long remnants which were a rare commodity in the piles of odds and ends.

countertop upstairs bath
Biano Gioia, Italian for white joy

For the upstairs vanity—the repurposed dressers painted in light aqua and dark gray—I choose a white quartz with gray veining called Bianco Gioia.

countertop master bath
For the master bath vanity.

The master vanity had dark wood lowers and cream-colored upper cabinets, so I found two similar looking white quartz pieces sprinkled with brown called Soprano and Clarino.

countertop beverage bar
This picture shows Intermezzo against the main kitchen cabinets, which already have a dark granite counter top, but I was making sure Intermezzo would complement the scene.

The kitchen beverage bar was tricky. The cabinets were a different color than the main kitchen so we wanted something light-colored but also something on which we could prepare coffee, which is known to stain countertops. I really would have loved something with blue in it, but none were to be found. None of the suitably colored remnants I saw in the back lot of our countertop shop were big enough. We resigned ourselves to getting a half sheet of quartz, or at least acquiring a quote on one. So we shopped the sample rack inside and found a quartz called Intermezzo, a creamy cross between beige and gray with threads of black to create a crackle effect. (Intermezzo, musically, is a short connecting instrumental piece in an opera, so the quartz—between dark and light—was aptly named.) I borrowed the sample to compare it to the cabinets in our rental unit and determined it was It. When I returned it to the countertop shop, the upbeat salesman (who had seen our display kitchen when his firm disassembled the granite) confirmed our choice.

“That’s perfect!” he confirmed. And then what he said thrilled me: “And we have a couple of remnants of that.”

Apparently, I had overlooked them when I was shopping the back lot. He just knew his inventory better than I did.

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Tomorrow: We choose stone for the curb in the shower. Check it out here.