Category: DIY

I was standing in my living room last Tuesday, staring at a jagged hole left by a misplaced command hook, feeling that familiar surge of “tech-support panic” usually reserved for

I was standing in my driveway in Portland last Tuesday, staring at a jagged, white scratch on my car door that looked less like a minor mishap and more like

I remember sitting on the floor of my parents’ basement in Portland, surrounded by the smell of sawdust and old solder, trying to figure out why my brother’s desk had

I was standing in my living room last Tuesday, staring at a streak of “eggshell white” that looked more like a smeared piece of old cheese, wondering why my weekend

I remember sitting in my Portland basement, surrounded by half-finished Rube Goldberg machines and the relentless, thumping bass from my neighbor’s stereo, wondering why I couldn’t just think the noise

I was sitting on my basement floor in Portland last Tuesday, staring at a wobbly, mid-century side table that looked like it had gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer,

I still remember those late nights in my Portland basement, hunched over a glowing monitor with a back that felt like it was being squeezed by a rusty vise. I

I remember sitting on my basement floor in Portland, surrounded by a chaotic sprawl of gears, marbles, and half-finished contraptions, trying to get a crucial joint to hold on my

I still remember the smell of ozone and burnt dust in my dad’s garage back in Portland, staring at a weld that looked more like a row of jagged, melted

I still remember the first time I tried my hand at leatherworking back in my Portland basement; I was surrounded by half-finished projects and, predictably, a very frustrated sense of