Wednesday, March 31, 2010


I was over at my mom's house when I saw it in the corner of her sewing room. 

"Mom," I said, "is that a steamer over there in the corner?"

"Yes, it is.  You should use it on your new dining room curtains.  It'd steam out those wrinkles in no time."

I felt my face light up.  "Can I borrow it?"

She looked at me a little bit suspiciously.  "Of course..." she said, letting her voice trail off a little at the end.  She knew something was up. 

I loaded up the steamer in the back of my Soul, drove home as fast as I could, and got right to work.

A couple of hours later my mom called me.  "Is whatever you're really using my steamer for gonna ruin it?"  This asked by the woman who gave me a CrockPot in which to boil hinges and loaned me a nut picker set with which to get melted paint out of nooks and crannies.  (She took the nut picker set back when she found out what I was using it for, though.  Apparently she and my dad got it as a wedding gift almost 56 years ago.)

"Heck, no," I said, not volunteering anything else.  She was on to me, though.  I knew it.

"What are you using it for?" she asked.  Caught.

"I'm steamin' wallpaper off the front parlor walls, " I told her truthfully.

She sighed.  "Bring it back when you're done with it," she said just before she hung up.

Thanks for the idea, Karen Anne.  It works great.

Monday, March 29, 2010

No Door Day

Mare called this morning, five minutes before my alarm went off, to say that he couldn't make it today.  Darnit.  I'm really looking forward to the day when I can shut a door and it stays shut.  It's the little things in life that are truly important, you know. 

Not being able to work on the doors today forced me to take inventory of the other unfinished projects and decide on something to do.  So I started in on this again:
Yep.  I scraped painted-over wallpaper off the walls in the front parlor.  I'm pretty sure that scraping painted-over wallpaper off plaster walls is specifically prohibited as torture by the Geneva Convention...and if it's not, it should be.  Ack. 

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Door Day Tomorrow!

Tomorrow Mare will be here for Door Day again!  We'll hang the door we glued together a couple of weeks ago, glue together the last two doors, and put in the mortises.  Then we'll see how many doorknobs and backplates we still need after sifting through his box of door hardware and mine.  We came up short one hinge after I boiled the paint off the last few hinges and one fell apart.  Apparently the paint was the only thing holding it together.  It was broken at the corner, across one of the screw holes, and after looking at it a welder friend of mine didn't think it could be repaired.  So, I broke down and bought one from Rejuvenation.  It almost exactly matches the original hinges.  Thank goodness I need only one—those things would get really pricey if I needed enough for all the doors!

In the meantime, I'm pulling staples out of the floor in the entryway and taking up tack strip.  Doors are a lot more fun.  And earlier today, before I knew Mare was coming, I cleaned up the house.  Now I'll have sawdust, paint flakes and putty chips all over the floors again.  Sigh...

Saturday, March 27, 2010

The Diagram

So last week I told you about this crazy idea I have to tear up my house.  It's somewhat difficult to explain without pictures, a sentiment my friend Walt echoed when I was telling him about it and halfway through he said, "Wait, I think I need a diagram." 

So I made one.

May I direct your attention to the right side of the floorplan, where I've colored on it with a Sharpie and two highlighters?  (This is probably easier to see if you bigify the photo, by the way.) 

When the house was built, the area that's marked as back porch/laundry was an open porch.  That green line there marks the original exterior wall of the house, a wall that's now covered with painted paneling and storage closets.  At some point (I don't know when) the back porch was closed in and the back door was located directly across from the kitchen door.  The second bathroom (the long, narrow one) either didn't exist at all then or was only a half-bath.  But then along came Charline—who, not so incidentally, is the same person who put the shingles over the original clapboard siding on the exterior of the house—and decided to put in a shower, which she had tacked on to the end of the long, narrow bathroom.  The shower is that area outlined in red, and although it's not quite to scale, you get the idea.  That necessitated moving the back door 3½ feet over so that it no longer lined up with the back walkway. 

Pause for explanation:  How do I know it's Charline who did it?  Circumstantial evidence.  The walls around the shower stall aren't really walls at all, just studs with cedar shingles nailed to them.  And as I've previously mentioned, the patch over the old back door opening was poorly done, which leads me to believe that it was never intended to show and was covered up with shingles in short order.  Charline did a lot of bad stuff to this house in the four or five years she lived here...

Anyway...the idea is that Mare and I will take out that shower stall (which is 31 inches square, by the way, with grab bars all around it so the "usable" space is really only about 27 inches square—now you understand why I don't like it), take out the structure around it, and take out the doorway next to the shower.  All this is marked in red.  That will give me some more room on the back porch and make it safer to access the trap-door to the basement.  We'll also move the back door over to its original location.  And see that little orange line along the green line that marks the original exterior wall?  That little orange line marks the location of a window in the master bathroom, which I think is kinda weird.  So, we'll move that window over to where the back door is now.  Then I can finish tearing the shingles off the back of the house, paint, and the outside of the house will be done.  For now, anyway.  We'll also put a door in the opening that's cut into the original wall in the long bathroom, since there isn't one there now.  (It was almost certainly originally a side door out to the porch.)  The rest of the bathroom will remain as a half bath.

But wait, there's more!  That was actually the easy part.  There's still the little matter of the other bathroom to deal with.  Right now it looks like this:
Not too long ago, I painted the walls in here and put in the least expensive peel-and-stick flooring I could find.  It was a temporary fix.  The floor in here between the toilet and the tub has some water damage and needs to be replaced.  The plastic tile on the walls is yucky.  The tub was never properly caulked and the finish on the inside of it is almost non-existent.  The toilet leaks a little bit and the bowl is stained.  And the vanity in here...eww.  The 1970s were not a good decade for interior design.  So....the bathtub will be replaced with a clawfoot tub (probably one that Mare already has) with a shower attachment, the floor will be repaired and then covered with hex tiles, the plastic tile will be replaced with beadboard, and we'll put in a new toilet and pedestal sink. 

But before I do anything else, I will heed the good advice of Cheryl, who cautioned me to "spend the time to chart out what has to be done before something else can be done and what doesn't depend on anything else".  As she pointed out, it will seem to take forever to chart it all out, but it will save me loads of time and trouble in the long run.  I have a bad habit of starting something and then having an "oh, crap!" moment; for instance, standing on the ladder with an 11-foot-long roll of wet wallpaper in my hand and realizing I don't have my utility knife, towel, or wallpaper squeegie with me.  Or the moment last spring when I told Mare after we set the porch posts that I decided not to screen in the whole porch after all.  That's minor in comparison to the big trouble I could get into on this thing without prior planning.  I see a lot of lists in my future.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

My Little Hyena

I read everyone's comments about the lack of wallpaper behind the drapes in the dining room and for awhile I still thought, Meh...I'm gonna leave it like it is.

But then I read this comment from Milah:

"I hope in few years you aren't blogging about how your grandchild was hiding behind those curtains during a nice dinner party when suddenly they pulled a curtain down and revealed to your guests your walls were never finished. Eww...that would be embarrassing. ;D"

And I remembered what my son, Dylan, was like as a small child.  I called him my little hyena.  Keep reading—you'll understand why.

Once Dylan was playing the front yard with his dog, which was running in circles around him as he galloped across the yard dragging a piece of black tape behind him....or so I thought.  When the dog's barking began to sound urgent, I went outside to see what Dylan had in his hands.  It was a 4-foot-long blacksnake.

He sprained his ankle but managed to escape more serious injury when he leaped from a treehouse at the babysitter's while holding a pillowcase above his head which he apparently thought would act as a parachute.

Did you know that if you should happen to touch Elvis Presley's Harley while touring the car museum at Graceland that very bright lights will flash and a whoop-whoop-whoop alarm will sound?  Dylan knows this.

He went through an extended phase of thinking that he was Wolverine of the superhero X-Men, a phase that included his taping toothpicks to the ends of his fingers and shrugging off any treatment of his cuts and scrapes by declaring, "I am Wolverine!  I have awesome healing powers!"

The bathroom flooded once because Dylan flushed a pair of his cotton training pants down the toilet.  I asked him, "Baby, why did you do such a thing?"  He replied reasonably, "Because they were dirty, Mama."

His Wolverine-like healing powers were put to the test when he was hit by a car outside Mare's house.  We ran into the street to check on him and he stood up, brushed himself off, and said indignantly, "Not my fault!  I looked both ways and there was no car!"  He was correct.  The car had been stopped at the corner and turned left just as Dylan darted into the street.  (He got a skinned knee and elbow out of this accident, so maybe he was right about that Wolverine thing.)

We were shopping at the famous Country Club Plaza when Dylan scampered over to the escalator and said, "What does this red button do?"  After he pushed it, we discovered it shuts down the escalator and summons security.

So...considering all that...and the strong possibility that Dylan's child might act just like him...I do believe I'll go ahead and put that wallpaper behind the curtains. 

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Fifty Years From Now...

I did something today which will make me a Stupid Previous Owner.  Yes, I, after all the complaining about the many SPOs of the Kelly House, have done something stupid. 

First, a photo of today's measly progress:

And now—the evidence of my impending SPO status:
Please note that there is no wallpaper behind the curtains.  Gasp!  Horrors!  I know, I know, it's lazy.  It's kinda stupid.  But ask me if I care and I will tell you, "Nope".  Ask me if it's gonna bother me in the least to know that there's no wallpaper behind the curtains and I will tell you, "Not a bit".  I thought it would bother me, I really did.  After all, I've never cut corners on anything I've done in or to this house before.  But today, something came over me.  My don't-give-a-sh*t level was running extraordinarily high.  And so it will stay that way and no one will know it but me.  Well, me and anyone who reads this.  Until...

Until someday fifty years or so from now, when someone else will come along and decide they don't like the dining room drapes...and when they pull them down, Wabam!  They'll discover that I didn't wallpaper all of the walls.  And they'll say, "It was that crazy little old lady with all the cats who did this, I just know it!"  That makes me laugh.  Just the thought of it.  Hoo, boy!

Monday, March 22, 2010

Hello, Stranger

Today I finally got back to working on the dining room.  I haven't worked on it since the night I fell off the ladder, which was February 8th.  That's a long time to neglect my poor dining room, which is already my favorite room in the house.  My goal for today and tomorrow is to finish the wall with bay (or bow, which is it?) windows.
(Note the Little Giant ladder in its 90-degree configuration.) Today I washed down the trim around all three windows, patched a dozen or so nail holes in the bullseyes, washed down the baseboard, sanded the shine off the trim and baseboards, painted the trim on two of the three windows, painted two sections of baseboard, and hung some wallpaper.  Whew!  It took much longer than I thought it would, but one section of the wall is finished.
I'm thinking I won't get the rest of the wall done tomorrow...these things always take longer than I think they will.  And besides, my mom and I usually go antiquing on Tuesday afternoons.  I have to have my priorities, you know.   

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Like A Hole In My Head

I might've really and truly lost my mind this time.  No, really.  See, I have this idea that I should've immediately discounted as crazy thinking and thought no more about it.  But then I thought about it some more.  A lot.  And then I shared it with Mare, who is as crazy as I am, so of course instead of talking me out of it he formed a plan to actually do it.  Now, I know I need something else to do like I need a hole in my head, but still...

I just have to share this craziness with y'all. 

First off, remember this?

And this?

It's the back wall of my house that got me so frustrated and mad last fall that I chucked the whole shingle-ripping project for the rest of the year.  About in the middle of the first photo you can see a long vertical line.  That's where the back door used to be.  The back walkway leads right up to it.  But now the back door is about four feet to the right.  It bugs me, I mean really bugs me, that the walkway doesn't line up with the back door anymore. 

But I can't move the back door over to where it used to be because of this:
That is the oft-mentioned ugly and terrible (freezing in winter, boiling in summer) back bathroom.  It's not quite so ugly anymore, but still I hate it.  Just so you know, this bathroom is 39 inches wide and 11 feet long.  God help him if a tall man ever moves into this house—he'll not be able to use this bathroom.  (I'll pause for you to fully consider that.  Yeah.  Okay.)  If I moved the back door it would be directly in front of the shower, which is on the other side of that wall where the toilet paper holder is.  The wall where the toilet paper holder is was originally the exterior wall of the house and that first doorway there would have opened onto the back porch. The Dutch door was a later and unfortunate addition. (This bathroom, incidentally, was once part of the back bedroom and is now basically a hallway between the back bedroom and the back porch.  An ugly hallway.  With a sink and toilet and shower in it.)

Now here's where it starts to get interesting...

At some point that open back porch was closed in and the "new" back door was put in where the old porch steps were.  (And the walkway still lined up with the back door.  Did I mention that it really bugs me that the door doesn't match up with the walkway any more?)  The closed-in back porch had three windows:  two side-by-side on the west side of the house and one about four feet to the right of the back door. 

Then along came someone who had the idea to build a second bathroom in the house.  So the back window became the back door, which made the walkway outside look whopper-jawed, and a shower stall was tacked onto the end of the hallway-like bathroom, which made the bathroom walls jut out awkwardly into the back porch space. This creates a bit of a problem with getting into the basement, as the basement access is a trap door in the middle of the floor and the jutting-out bathroom walls come perilously close to the edge of the trap-door.  When I say "perilously close" I mean that when the trap-door's open there's only about 8 inches between the bathroom wall and the open maw of the basement.  You try carrying a big box of something with your back pressed against a wall while side-stepping to avoid falling into the basement.  Not fun.

Let's review:  Hate the back wall of the house.  Hate the non-matching walkway and back door.  Hate the bathroom.  Hate the tiny shower stall.  Hate almost falling into the basement. Ron White would say, "I told you that to tell you this":  My hare-brained idea will fix everything.

I want to put a shower in the other bathroom (the one next to my bedroom), get rid of the tiny crappy shower stall in the back bathroom, rip out the bathroom walls around the shower stall back to the original wall of the house, move the back door to where it used to be, and put in a window where the back door is now.  More or less in that order.  After we finish the interior door project, of course.  Probably before I finish tearing the shingles off the back wall of the house.  Most certainly before I paint the back wall of the house.  But maybe not before I finish wallpapering the dining room or painting the second parlor.  And I really ought to put a new roof on the carport sometime soon, too.

Craziness?  Or not?

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Fireplace, With Shutters

I mentioned a couple of posts ago that the fireplace in my front parlor used to have shutters on it.

This is the fireplace, now without shutters:
(And a very large cat.)  I looked in vain for a photo of the fireplace with shutters, but there was none to be found.  When my computer crashed last fall, I lost most of the photos of what the house looked like when I moved in.  Anyhow, the shutters covered over that wallpaper in the middle of the mantel and were nailed to the top edge of its opening.  (You can see the nail holes if you bigify the photo.) 

The shutters looked like this, only crappy:
And painted white.  With pieces of scotch tape all over them.  And there were four of these shutters nailed onto the fireplace.  No, I don't know why.  Maybe to cover up the wallpaper, which I actually kinda like.

But why, you might be wondering, is the fireplace plastered over?  Well, because this fireplace was never intended to burn wood.  Instead, a coal-burning stove would have set in front of the mantel to heat this part of the house.  Its stovepipe would vent into a narrow chimney behind the wall.  (A chimney that, incidentally, sticks out into the dining room behind it and is still the central vent for the HVAC in my house, a not particularly efficient system.)

Which leads me to this, commonly known as The Blister:
See that round blue thing in the middle of that exposed plaster?  Try to overlook all the stuff that's found its way onto the mantel from other areas of the room after being knocked off a table by the cats.  And the screwdriver.  And the bottle of Bitter Yuck I've been spraying on the palm.  Look higher.  Yep, that big round thing up there.  That was originally a stovepipe hole.  At some point that hole was badly repaired, then wallpapered over, then painted over.  It's very crumbly and ugly.  My solution to that ugliness would be to knock out the patch and cover it up again with one of those pie-plate thingies.  Mare, however, has a different idea...he thinks I should buy a coal-burning stove (an actual old one, not a replica) and run a stovepipe back into that hole.  Not so the stove could actually be used, because insurance agents tend to disapprove, but just for looks.  I agree that a coal-burning stove in the front parlor would look really good, but I'm guessing a pie-plate thingy just might be cheaper and easier to install.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

The End of Days

Very strange things have been happening at my house.  And I'm not the only one who thinks so...

Marie:  Louis, why are you gathering your toys together?

Louis:  Because you were snuggling with the dog yesterday and today Christopher whacked her in the head.  You're being nice and he's being mean.  I think the end of the world is near.  I'm piling up all my toys in one place so that when we get called away suddenly, I know where to find 'em.

Marie:  I'm not being nice.  I'm simply following the advice of my hero, Richard Nixon, to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.  Or was that Machiavelli?  Either way, it's brilliant advice.  Or perhaps I've decided to simply accept the inevitable.  Liberty, like her or not, is here to stay.

Louis:  You have weird heroes.  My hero is Winnie the Pooh.  And I've always liked Libbi.  I'm glad you're making friends with her.

Marie:  That you idolize Winnie the Pooh does not surprise me in the least.  Your use of the word "friends" is a bit of an overstatement.  Ah, Christopher, you look a bit dejected.  Could it be, perhaps, that you are in trouble?

Christopher:  Oh shut up, Marie. You know I am in big trouble.  First I whacked Libbi in the head and made her bleed, and Momma yelled at me for that, and then there was that, um, problem with that new plant Momma bought. 

Louis:  Problem with the plant?  What problem?

Christopher:  You know that big palm plant Momma bought for the front parlor?  I knocked it over again...and then I, um, sorta peed in the dirt that spilled out onto the floor.  Momma freaked out and yelled, "It is staying here!  Leave it alone!"  I don't know if she meant the plant or the dog.

Louis:  Oh, that is so not cool.

Liberty:  Hey, Louis.  Hey, Marie.  Christopher, don't even think about touching me.

Christopher:  I hate you, Libbi.  I wish you never came to live here.

Marie:  Such harsh words!

Louis:  See?!  Nice Marie.  Mean Christopher.  It's the end of days, I'm telling you.  Now where are my furry mice?

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Not Too Bad...

The to-do list still stands, mostly unfinished...but here's what I did accomplish today:

I filled in all the holes and cracks and the seams on both sides of the front parlor/dining room door with wood filler. I also filled in the mortise cuts on the un-hinged side of the door and the door jamb.
Filling in the old mortises around the hinges was a little tricky.  (And by the way, thank you to whomever told me about using 3-in-1 oil on the hinges.  It makes them look so much better.)

Then I filled in the holes and cracks and seams on one side of the front parlor/entryway door.

And then I painted.  Two coats on one side of the front parlor/dining room door; one coat on the other side.  Painted the trim around the door and put the transom hardware back.
Okay, so I really didn't finish the trim all the way around the door...but almost.  (The right side is still white.)  Hmm...having the trim next to the mantle painted up nice and shiny makes the mantle look kinda icky...maybe next week I'll patch the holes from the shutters that were on it and paint it.  Yes, shutters.  On a mantle.  I cannot explain this.

And then I painted some more.  Two coats on the front parlor/entryway door.
I think it probably needs a third coat, but I'll have to look at it in daylight to know for sure. 

All in all, not too bad for a day's work.

More Doors

So how am I doing on that list?  Well....not too good so far.  After working 52 hours this week (in only four nights) I was tiiiired on Sunday.  So I slept.  A lot.  And then somehow I forgot Mare was coming yesterday to work on the doors again, so I didn't get any painting done Monday.

We did get two doors hung, another one glued together, and—the exciting part—doorknobs and mortise locks put on the two entryway doors.  Mare had been dreading putting in the mortise locks because the hole where they'd been was filled with water putty which was hard as a rock and had to be drilled out.  But when he drilled into the first one, his drill suddenly and unexpectedly dropped down.  The water putty was only about an inch deep, and the rest of the hole was empty.  Even better, the mortise locks I bought on eBay are exactly the right size and even the doorknob hole and keyhole line up with the original holes in the doors.  Hooray!

Here's what I'll be working on today:
 Patching the seam and the holes in this door, painting the trim around it and hanging the transom hardware back up again...

And the same for this door... 
(Louis is peeking through the crack in the door at Libbi on the other side)
And patching the seam and holes on this door and removing those stupid cabinet door catches at the top of the door frame.

Working on it, I say, not to be confused with finishing it...but we'll see how far I get today.  It's raining outside, so I won't be tempted to go out there and take shingles off the back of the house.

Progress on the door project:  4 of 7 doors hung, one more door glued together, and 2 doors with mortises and doorknobs.  Still to be done:  2 more doors to be removed and glued together, and lots of patching and painting.  Hardware to be located:  1 pair of steeple hinges, 3 mortise locks, 3 doorknobs, 6 backplates and 6 strike plates.  I better get crack-a-lackin!

Sunday, March 7, 2010

A List Has Been Made

I don't mean to alarm anyone, but a list has been made.  I, who hate making to-do lists, have just finished one.  It wasn't too painful, this writing down of what I hope to accomplish in the next two or three days.  But don't think to-do lists are gonna become a habit around here.  I am still a fly-by-the-of-my pants kind of girl.  And the list is not very extensive, which may be why it hurt less to write it. 

Here it is:

1.  Paint the trim around two front parlor doors.

2.  Re-hang transom hardware on both doors.

3.  Fill in gaps and holes in recently-hung door.

4.  Fill in gouge (caused by the ladder incident) in dining room door.

5.  Paint dining room door and front parlor door.

It's not a very ambitious list, either, is it?  But I knew if I posted it here, then I'd have to own up to finishing or not finishing it, so I aimed low. 

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

You Can Fix Stupid

Yesterday was—finally—Door Day again.  While we fell considerably short of Mare's prediction that we'd finish all six doors in one day, we still got quite a bit accomplished:  three doors glued together, one door hung, and two sets of transom hardware stripped.

With all due respect to Ron White, the comedian who says, "You can't fix stupid", sometimes you can.  As a public service to anybody else who, Heaven forbid, might find themselves with sawn-in-half doors, here's how we put them back together:

First, of course, we took the door halves off either side of the jamb and mightily cursed the idiots who cut the doors in half.  Then we gave each half-door and the jamb the same number, so we could put the door back in the same opening from whence it came.  (Our thinking here is that since the original hinge mortises were used, there's a good possibility that the half-doors are hung in the same opening that the original whole door hung in.  The importance of this escaped me at first, until Mare explained that the mortise on the door and the mortise on the jamb should line up perfectly if the door is in its original location.)  That part in parentheses is actually a pretty big assumption.  It's just as likely that they took all the doors out to the front yard, sawed them in half, and then re-hung them willy-nilly with no regard for where they came from or even if the two halves were from the same door.

Then we removed all the hardware from the door, which was a conglomeration of original cast-iron steeple hinges, brass hinges, and round cabinet pulls which were screwed into the door halves. The original hinges were put in the Crock-Pot to boil off all the paint, the brass hinges were saved for later sale or barter, and the cabinet pulls were tossed in the trash. 

After constructing a makeshift work table on the floor out of an extension ladder and two boards (New Yankee Workshop, we ain't) we laid the two door halves down, pushed them tightly together, and then clamped them to the boards, making sure that the panels on either half were exactly lined up with each other.  For reasons unknown to me, the two halves of the doors were very often not the same height, so we couldn't simply line up the top and bottom edges.  (I actually have a sneaking suspicion that they're not the same height because they originally were not the same door, but if I allow myself to really believe that I'll make myself crazy with the possible match-ups of 14 half-doors.)

Then I corralled all the animals and Mare ran a saw lengthwise down the middle of the door halves, taking just a bit off each side.  He did this to be sure that the cut edges matched and because bare wood takes glue better than painted wood.  (Side note to Charlie:  Yes, this is the part that makes me almost cry.)  It amazes me that after almost 125 years, the doors still smell sharply of pine when they're cut. 
Then, with the doors still clamped together, Mare marked where the biscuits should go by making small lines across the cut edge.  The lines (where the center of each biscuit will be) are about 12 inches apart.  The first and last ones are about 3 inches from the top and bottom of the door. Liberty performed the necessary quality check. 
And then the biscuit cuts were made and were ready for gluing.  I don't have a photo of us putting the glue on and stuffing the biscuits in the biscuit cuts because I don't have three hands.  I held the door with one hand and brushed wood glue onto the cut edge and down into the biscuit cuts with the other.  Mare did the same thing to the other half of the door.  Here you can see our ingenious work table in between the two door halves.  It's not fancy, but it works.
And then we laid them back flat and pushed them together.  Sometimes we had to use a hammer here and there to encourage them.  You'd think they'd want to just leap back together after decades of being apart, but somehow that's not the case.
After that, we clamped them together with big bar clamps and then clamped the top and bottom to the boards on our fabulous work table.  This kept the doors from warping or cupping as the glue dried. 
When the glue dried, we took the bar clamps off and hung the door.  

And that's how we put back together a door that some idiot sawed in half. 

Statistics and progress so far:  Seven doors, total.  Four doors glued together.  Two doors hung.  One door filled, sanded and painted.  (Which now needs some repair after the ladder incident.)  Zero doors with doorknobs, mortise locks, or strike plates.  Stay tuned for updates.