I’ve always been a maker.
I didn't set out to become a woodworker. Truthfully, I never set out to become anything other than a maker.
I've been creating things for as long as I can remember. Long before repurposing became fashionable, I was finding new uses for old things and seeing possibilities where others saw junk. I've always been drawn to the character of weathered wood, worn metal, and objects with a history to tell.
That mindset followed me through every stage of life. I built furniture for my kids when buying it wasn't in the budget. I rescued discarded pieces from curbsides and transformed them into something useful, beautiful, or completely unexpected. I've always been the person looking down instead of up, scanning the ground for treasures that everyone else walks past. Chris's family even gave me a nickname: "Mrs. Hopes-To-Find-It." They weren't wrong.
In fact, I'm probably the most organized hoarder you'll ever meet. My workshop is filled with collections of found objects, salvaged hardware, oddball treasures, and pieces waiting for their next chapter—carefully sorted, categorized, and filed away because you never know when the perfect idea will need the perfect piece.
Years ago, I jokingly called my style "Pseussicasso," a blend of Dr. Seuss and Picasso. It was my way of describing a creative process driven more by imagination than convention. The name may have been tongue-in-cheek, but the philosophy stuck. To this day, my favorite projects start with a simple question:
What can I make with this?
The best things aren't new.
They're just not
finished.
My path into working with whiskey barrels started at a distillery, where I combined my creative background with hands-on problem solving. What began as organizing and redesigning displays turned into building custom pieces — first for use, then for customers to take home. That's when everything clicked.
Barrel staves are not easy. They're curved, bowed, and a little stubborn — basically the opposite of what woodworking textbooks recommend. Most people avoid that. I don't. I work with the wood instead of fighting it, shaping each piece to be functional, safe, and smooth, while preserving the character and history that make it special.
Nearly everything I create is made from reclaimed materials — because I've always believed the best things aren't new, they're just not finished.
Built Together
My husband, Chris, was a huge part of this journey — and we could not have been more different in the workshop.
He was a "one and done" kind of maker. Build it once, figure it out as you go, and move on. Me? I'm… let's call it precision-driven. When he taught me how to build my first Adirondack chair, he showed me the process. I took that process and spent the next three months building jigs to make sure I could do it perfectly, every single time.
“He created freely. I engineered consistency. Somehow, it worked.”
Beyond the shop, he was the one who brought the business to life — building our website, running social media, and handling all the technical pieces so I could stay focused on creating. We even added laser engraving together and started building what we thought would be our retirement — me making, him running the show behind the scenes.
After he passed away, everything changed. I moved to Arizona to be closer to my kids, and now I'm carrying both sides of that dream. Still making. Still building. And still hearing his voice in the process.
Rough History. Satin Finish.
When someone brings one of my pieces into their home, I want them to feel it. The buttery-smooth finish. The weight of real wood. The grain that will never be duplicated. I want them to know they're holding something that wasn't rushed, wasn't mass-produced, and definitely wasn't easy.
Nearly everything I make is reclaimed — about 90% of it, in fact — which means every piece has already lived a life before it ever reaches your hands. My job is to honor that, preserve it, and turn it into something both beautiful and functional.
It may cost more than something mass-produced. The price still doesn't come close to reflecting the time and care that goes into it. But that's the point.
Whether you're buying a gift for someone who has everything, outfitting a bar with pieces that actually mean something, or treating yourself to something built to last — you'll feel the difference the moment you pick it up.
