My memories of my grandfather (Pop) are filled with me tagging along with him at his workshop—an old, grey barn-like building in Littlefield, Texas. Pop’s workshop felt as a big as an airplane hanger, and it seemed to have every tool ever invented. I believed Pop could fix or build anything. I wish that I could build with him now; he would get such a kick out of all the things his little Michi can do.

Thankfully, I do get to build with my dad on occasion, and I know he does get a kick out of it. My dad is the strong silent type. We both are, really. The time we get to spend together working on projects is priceless. We both enjoy the silence, the process, and a job well done. We cherish the memories we make the most.

I have always been handy. Give me a box of unassembled furniture, and you can keep the instruction manual. I will handle it perfectly fine. I will even go as far as to say I have been the foreman on many of the home improvement projects that my husband and father-in-law have done over the years. (Neither of them are available for comment!)

Fast forward to the pandemic of 2020. I found myself working from home with three kids, two dogs, a husband, and one home office. In this seemingly out-of-control situation, I needed something I could control. So, I went to the garage (my workshop) and got lost in building all the things, and I haven’t looked back. When I build, the world is in my hands.

My projects are made exclusively by me (Michi!). They come from my heart, my hands, and the imagination of a little girl who still just wants to build with her Pop.