The Ripa Woodworks Story: From My Garage to Yours
You know, there I was, sitting in my garage with a cup of black coffee, the kind that you can feel in your bones. The smell of sawdust was heavy in the air, mixed with the faint scent of pine from the stack of 1x12s I had picked up last week. The Ripa Woodworks website—now that’s a story I’ve been itching to tell. It’s been a journey, for sure—one filled with splinters, surprise successes, and more than a few wrecked projects.
When I first thought about creating a website for my little woodworking venture, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I thought, “How hard can it be?” I mean, I’ve spent years crafting furniture for friends and family, and my wife was always saying, “You should showcase your work. People would love to see it.” I guess she was right. But sitting down to build a website? That’s a whole different ballgame.
The First Cut
So, I started with Squarespace, thinking it’d be as easy as assembling a piece of IKEA furniture—no big deal! I picked out a template that looked all shiny and professional, but, man, those first couple of nights? I almost gave up more times than I can count. The tech stuff just didn’t click at first. Some nights I looked at those endless blocks of text and just waved my hands in the air like I was trying to shoo away a swarm of bees.
I remember staring at my old laptop, losing patience as I tried to figure out how to upload photos. I nearly tossed that laptop out into the driveway when I discovered that my images were all too large and pixelated. How was I supposed to show off my gorgeous walnut tabletops with blurriness? That wouldn’t do at all. After a lot of muttering and second-guessing myself, I stumbled across this little photo-editing tool that resized my images just right—thank goodness for small victories.
Tools of the Trade
But let me backtrack and share why I started this venture in the first place. The tools I use in my garage are pretty simple, nothing fancy. A trusty DeWalt miter saw, a Ryobi drill that I’ve had since I bought my first house, and a few hand tools that have been passed down from my grandfather. I love those tools like family. I can still hear the whirring sound of that miter saw as I was cutting my first batch of coasters to post online. The cuts weren’t perfect, but there was something special about creating something with my own two hands.
You ever have that moment when you’re working on a project and you suddenly throw caution to the wind? There was this one time I decided I’d give epoxy resin a whirl to fill in some cracks on a rustic piece I had carved out of a slab of oak. To be honest, I watched a couple of YouTube tutorials and thought, “That looks easy enough.” I put on my gloves, mixed up the resin, and got to work.
Let’s just say—having epoxy dripped down my favorite flannel shirt was not part of the plan. And, spoiler alert: I wasn’t prepared for how much heat it would generate while it cured. I walked into the garage all proud, and the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. I almost gagged, thinking I might’ve ruined the whole project. But then, I flipped the board over and saw the most beautiful river of color flowing through the cracks, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how it actually worked out.
The Website in the Making
After wrestling through those first hiccups, I finally found my rhythm. Slowly, I started to showcase my favorite projects—the green-stained chairs I made for the backyard, that coffee table that was a labor of love, or the custom cutting boards that always got rave reviews. It felt euphoric, hitting “publish” with each new addition, seeing my creations come to life on the screen.
But you know, I also had my share of facepalm moments. Like, when I listed a “reclaimed barn wood” product and got an email asking where it came from. I had to do some serious backtracking, explaining that I had grabbed the wood from the local hardware store, not some abandoned barn. Lesson learned, folks: if you’re gonna use fancy words, best make sure you know what you’re talking about!
Building Community
What really surprised me, though, was the sense of community that sprouted from that website. You know those friendships that just kind of happen when you’re all sharing the same hobby? Folks started reaching out, sharing their own woodworking fails and successes, sending pictures of their own projects. It felt like I was sitting around a fire with a bunch of friends, trading stories, laughing, and sharing tips.
There was this one guy, Tom, who even sent me a message saying he’d attempted a coffee table using my tutorial. He ended up with a slice of wood that looked like a giant cheese cracker. But you know what? He posted it anyway, and that’s all it took for a bunch of us to rally around him, giving him tips and encouragement. It’s moments like those that really make all the trials and frustrations worth it.
Just Go for It
Now, the website is up for sale, and there’s a bittersweet feeling about it. I’ve learned so much and met so many wonderful people. But it’s also time for the next chapter in my life, whatever that may hold. If someone else picks it up, I hope they dive in headfirst and let their personality shine through, just like I tried to.
If you’re out there thinking about trying your hand at something, whether it’s woodworking or starting a website, I just want to say: go for it. Seriously. You might stumble, you might mess up—heaven knows I did—but don’t let those glitches hold you back. Every single time I nearly threw in the towel, I came back stronger, more determined.
Remember, it’s about the journey, the lessons learned, the stories shared—and honestly, all those flannel shirts stained with epoxy will just be reminders of how far you’ve come.
