I was halfway through a cup of coffee yesterday when I saw it—a jagged, ugly gouge right across the surface of my favorite mid-century modern coffee table. My heart sank, and for a split second, I actually thought the piece…
You know, growing up in my family’s hardware store, I learned that the secret to any successful project is all in the preparation. Whether you’re sanding down an old vintage dresser or tackling a kitchen remodel, you can’t just wing…
I still remember the smell of sawdust and old floor wax from my dad’s hardware store back in Ohio, a scent that always meant it was time to get to work. When I finally moved into my own tiny studio…
I remember sitting on the floor of my first tiny apartment, staring at a utility bill that felt more like a personal attack than a monthly statement. Between the drafty windows and an ancient heater that rattled like a bag…
I still remember moving into my first studio apartment after graduating from SCAD; the walls were a sterile, soul-crushing shade of “landlord beige,” and every time I tried to hang a simple picture, I’d freeze up, terrified of losing my…
Growing up in my family’s hardware store in Ohio, I learned pretty quickly that you don’t need the most expensive, high-tech gadget to get a job done right—you just need to understand how things actually work. I see so many…
I still remember the first tiny studio apartment I moved into after graduating from SCAD; I was so proud of my degree, but I was absolutely losing my mind trying to fit my life into four cramped walls. I’d look…
I remember standing in my parents’ hardware store back in Ohio, surrounded by the sharp, stinging scent of fresh sawdust and heavy-duty chemical solvents, thinking that “going green” meant you had to throw everything away and start over with a…
I remember sitting on my workshop floor three years ago, surrounded by the sawdust of a failed mid-century dresser restoration and feeling like my entire life was just as splintered and unfixable. My hands were shaking, not from the heavy…
I remember sitting on the floor of my childhood home in Ohio, surrounded by my dad’s old hardware catalogs, feeling completely overwhelmed by a stack of financial papers that felt just as heavy as a bag of wet concrete. It’s…