Steve here… my turn to check in. [for the visual processors, scroll drown for photos]
Early in our marriage, we had an old cruddy toaster oven and for some reason we decided we would resurrect it. We washed and scraped until it became useful again. At that point, we named ourselves “The Reclaimers.” Ever since we have gone out of our way to make use of things that had long lost their purpose. Our home has never lost its purpose—and our aim is still that all who enter feel welcomed and loved. As we forge a new path together...we are “Reclaiming“ our future.
Hence our “Remodel.” Currently, the back half of our home is now the domain of our contractor, Jeremy, and his team. We are living, as Victoria has dubbed it, in the “Tiny House Project.” We have a living room, the guest bedroom, and a bathroom. For a while there was only a plastic sheet covering the opening from the construction zone to our space. When the heat kicked up the sheet billowed into the hallway and we’d have to squeeze by to use the bathroom. And we just heard that Albert would periodically pop through a little hole in the plastic to check on their progress. That’s just like the game Albert and I play. I lock down the backyard and Albert finds a way out. Here we think he is safely tucked away each morning and he is out and about visiting the crew. They have since put up drywall to contain him.
It’s been cool to see the bones of this old house. The workers found the kitchen floor had been leveled with mortar. As they broke it up they found newspapers dated back to 1950s! I should qualify what I mean by leveled. As a 1928 bungalow there is not one level floor or ceiling to be found. “Somewhat flattened” is probably a more accurate statement when referring to the floors. Victoria and I have watched enough Fixer-Uppers to expect that inevitable call with the said problem. We have had two. After jack hammering all the mortar out, they found the floor joists needed a lot of remediation. Then, the foundation under the back entry way was utterly rotted. Our contractor, by the way, has been fabulous! He has been uber communicative, and willing to wait for Victoria and I to get home to discuss next steps, and surprise us with an archway and ideas to make the space lovely.
After work one day, I was shocked when I got to the back and found the door gone. They had not only taken out the door but the entire wall, and replaced it with plywood. I was sad because I had put so much time into reclaiming that door over the years, Without a portico to keep the rain away it slowly rotted much like its foundation. I had rebuilt the bottom with a 2x4, painted and rehung it, not one but twice. I was quite proud of myself at the time—exploring new territory. It wasn’t pretty, but it was functional.
Today Victoria and I were in the back measuring out spaces and places for the vanity, the broom closet, and Annie’s litter box. I’m off Monday so I’ll continue the reclaiming process, bringing up the extra glass panel doors that match the patio for the new butler’s pantry.
As Victoria spends much time sourcing flooring and tile for just the right look, at just the right price, I am relegated to, and admit, the only way I can help in this endeavor is to drive her from tile store to tile store. One benefit of living in Chattanooga is we are only 35 miles from the flooring capital of the world...Dalton, GA.
Next up: built-ins, and paint colors which make my eyes go blurry.
This is the first chance I have been able to express my thanks and gratitude for your prayers and generosity.
Love, Steve—and Victoria
