A bit of this, some of that
Aim me at the list.
Hi — I'm Kerrie. It's easier to show than tell, which is why there's a whole site here instead of a tidy elevator pitch. I'm a generalist — by trade and, honestly, by necessity — so aim me at the tangled, in-between jobs no single specialist quite covers, and I'll sort them out. I've even learned to talk code into being: when a job needs a tool that doesn't exist — or one I just can't find — I make one.
I've got a good collection of Makita tools and I know how to use them — but I've had to accept I'm not in my 40s anymore. So I've pulled my design skills out of mothballs and dusted them off, and more and more I'm drawn to the work that skips the knee pads and ladders: the kind that keeps me behind a keyboard — air-conditioned in July, heated in January.
But enough about me — what do you need?
What I can do
Point me at your list.
The useful-generalist menu — best on the tangled lists no single trade quite covers. Roughly in the order I wish people asked. (The order they actually ask in is a different list entirely.)
Brand, web & visuals
Logos, websites, business cards, menus, and marketing — with a real eye behind them. A branding-and-press background, a decade of campaigns people actually kept on the fridge, and these very sites: designed and hand-coded. I don't write software so much as talk it into being.
Planning & custom tools
Lot layouts, property plans, before-and-after visuals, drone views, and small custom web tools when the off-the-shelf thing doesn't exist (see: WiggleLot). A decade packing warehouses taught me the fullest layout isn't the smartest — I plan for how a space gets used, not just how much fits.
Pictures — and now video
I've shot a million photos to sell things, from real estate to nuts and bolts. Stills are my solid ground; video never interested me until the drone showed up. Still a noob — but aren't gimbals the greatest?
A reality check before you spend
Boundaries, drainage, layout, access, safety, what to fix first, and what a piece of land might become with a saner plan. Learn from my mistakes — I've got plenty.
Rental refresh & turnover
Touch-up paint, hardware swaps, small repairs, cleanup, and before-and-after photos — the little things that make a tired place feel rentable again.
Organizing & purging
I like making stuff leave. Closets, sheds, garages, storage units, move piles — I'll help sort what matters from what's just squatting.
Select hands-on work
Still glad to build and fix — just nothing up an extension ladder, on my knees, or in a crawl space. I've paid those dues. Minor electrical and plumbing, yes; pro, no.
Assembly work
Turns out I love it — widgets together, boxed up, one ear on something good. Happy to do this one steady, not just in short bursts.
Gardening & landscape
Raised beds, cleanups, plantings, and the smaller projects — including stackable beds built from reclaimed pallet collars.
Home watch & fix-it list
Eyes on the place, water the plants, check for leaks, photo updates, small fixes, and a straight answer on what looks off.
Travel companion
Some folks shouldn't fly solo, or just shouldn't have to. I'll push the wheelchair, wrangle the bags and boarding passes, find the gate, and make sure nobody eats dinner alone. Good listener, too — cheaper than a therapist, if a touch less qualified. (Children frighten me, though — no nanny gigs, please.)
Short-term backup
Moves, downsizing, recovery-week logistics, wedding-week errands, family emergencies, paperwork piles — the general chaos nobody planned for.
The Sprinter advantage
I come with a rolling bedroom. For the right job I can stay nearby without moving into your guest room — handy for home watch, property projects, and "please help me get through this week."
Honest about the edges
Good fit
A week of moving madness. A rental refresh with new faucets and window treatments. A punch-list with a deadline, too few hands, and enough on it to fill a good chunk of a day — the mixed bag no single specialist quite covers. Flat-pack furniture, or shelves made from good old-fashioned wood. A simple brand refresh — logo, card, website. Feed all the critters on your ranch while you're in Alaska for ten days. Or…
Not my lane
A chore list a single housekeeper, painter, or handyman could knock out — they'll be faster and cheaper than me. Also not for me: a twenty-minute fix ninety minutes away, medical or personal care, heavy contractor work, extension ladders, crawl spaces, ongoing housecleaning, or pretending I'm twenty-eight and invincible.
Plain English: I'm not a nurse, realtor, contractor, or maid. I'm a useful generalist with tools, a camera, a van, and a pretty good nose for the next right thing. Best on the tangled lists no single trade quite covers — worth the gas for both of us.
Things I'd like to learn
3D printing
I'd love an excuse to buy a printer. The one widget I can't buy anywhere keeps eluding me — the day I find it, that printer's mine.
Welding
I feel a little inadequate not knowing how, and I mean to fix that.
Plasma cutting
Looks like entirely too much fun. I don't know how yet — emphasis on yet.
Web & marketing
Make it look like you.
Your brand should look like you — not a template, not the shop next door, not whatever the website builder picked on your behalf. I make the visible bits — logos, websites, business cards, menus, the whole first impression — fit the real person or business behind them. Specific beats generic, every single time.
The wardrobe
Same brand. Dressed for the room.
Here's a trick I can pull for you: one brand, tailored to whoever's across the table. To prove it, I dressed this very site three ways — same bones, three personalities. Go ahead, try them on.
Faded Jeans
Warm, funny, lived-in — arrows firing out of a little purple dot. The real me, and the one you're reading now.
The Suit
Buttoned all the way up, fluent in deliverables, gravely serious about synergy. For when the room expects a suit. Basically my website in a Halloween costume — or a very committed April Fools bit, played dead straight.
Office Casual
Sleeves rolled, a faceted metal mark, more color and play. Cut for creative and tech outings.
Same content, same person underneath — just dressed differently. That's exactly the part I'd tailor for your brand.
What I've done
Generalist by necessity.
A wildly varied work history — and a decent explanation for why I can handle almost anything.
A partial list
Renovated houses
Alongside my mom — she was flipping old Denver houses in the '70s, before it was cool or even called "flipping." Child services might've frowned, but it "grew hair on my chest," as grandpa would say.
Co-owned a pizza shop
Domino's, a few early Papa John's in Cincinnati, a joint that delivered VHS movies with your pizza — then my own, Home Run Pizza. My favorite part was the branding: menus, coupons, door hangers, shirts. Which is how I ended up at Minuteman Press.
Ran my own service
Back in Colorado I needed to be outside. Tree-farm work led to my own backflow-testing business for almost two decades. Seasonal, so I always had a next thing.
Mistress of propaganda
A title I gave myself — every word of it true, it just has a nice ring. For fifteen years I was the design hand behind a major recycling outfit: if it got printed, I laid it out and picked the font — on damn near everything, and there was a lot. Year after year my materials passed through the hands of hundreds of employees at companies like Kodak, Budweiser, and New Belgium, quietly making them rethink their water and their waste: that the glass you order at a restaurant takes two more to wash it; that only one percent of the world's water is fit to drink. Facts, not scare tactics — but the kind that stick.
Operations Director
At that same outfit I took a turn running the whole operation — forklifts, logistics, sales, the website, staff wrangling. Made it all the way to the top, then demoted myself after six months: I'd rather do the work than hold meetings about it.
Liquidated a shuttered plant
Agilent's monstrous Rohnert Park facility, closed when the jobs flew overseas. My job: make SO MUCH STUFF go away. Lesson learned: if you need 10 temps a day for weeks, order 20 — and tell them only 10 are coming back.
Landscapables
Reclaimed pallet collars resold as stackable garden beds and wall systems, plus giant windmill-pallet timbers. Saturated the market and ran out of material at exactly the right time. The raised bed I built there is still holding up a decade later.
Programmed a Chinese robot
Years running assembly, packaging, and shipping for Tenex's mercury-filled shock absorbers — and I programmed a Chinese robotic dispenser with zero instructions. Loved working 16 hours straight with one ear on Game of Thrones.
Built my own Linux machine
Taught myself to set one up and live on it — some of my dad's computer-geek finally surfaced. The sensible fix to a broken Windows laptop, and boy am I glad that thing broke. Life is better in Linux.
Restored old sewing machines
Deep-cleaned my mom's old Singer, had so much fun I bought three more — a treadle included. Turns out there's no market for them, sadly. Keeping one; the treadle and an old Japanese clone are up for grabs.
Turned boxes into rooms
A cargo van into a studio apartment — twice. A shipping container into an office-slash-warehouse. A cargo trailer into a working little factory. If it has four walls and a floor, I can probably make it somewhere to live or work.
Turned my own wrenches
Solar on the van, new brake lines bent and flared, the pricey diesel-shop stuff swapped myself, fresh pads and rotors on the truck. It's amazing what I'll do to save a buck.
Bed-linered a whole truck
Outdoors in the mulch, amongst the bugs, with a $40 battery sprayer and some magical U-POL — and honestly impressed. Practice for the van. Now I want to coat everything. Shower walls?
Built this website & planning program
I hired ChatGPT (aka Chatterbox) a few years back — therapist, copywriter, researcher, comedy writer, good buddy — and learned I could write code without writing code. Call me a code whisperer. I hired Claude for a lot of this site, too; he's my new buddy.
Evidence it actually happened
A tool I needed, so I made it
I needed a tool that didn't exist.
So I built one. WiggleLot is a storage-lot planner I wrote from scratch. Hand it an aerial photo, set the scale off something you can measure, then wiggle containers and parking spaces around until the lot earns its keep — it tallies the monthly rent as you go.
Any property
Drop a drone shot in as the canvas and tailor a plan to almost anything. Drag a fence, reshape it to dodge a wet spot, mark your spaces, see the conflicts.
Rearrange the heavy stuff
Move objects that weigh thousands of pounds with one finger — over and over again, until the layout actually makes sense.
Runs anywhere
In a browser, on any machine, nothing to install. I made it for one consulting pitch and kept refining it — only took about 200 versions.
Kentucky
Five generations of women have held this ground.
Forty acres in Lee County, held since 1886. My mom spent her childhood summers here and has always wanted to come back — I'd like to make that possible for both of us.
The dream is small and off-grid-minded: a little camp and skills retreat for writers, artists, and climbers, just up the road from the Red River Gorge and Natural Bridge — some of the finest climbing in the country. There's a clifftop, a waterfall, and a spring-fed creek that drops in a dry stretch but never runs dry; limestone underfoot surely hiding a cave I haven't found yet; and an old tobacco barn stuffed with salvaged pipe and peeled timber, all waiting on a second life.
The longer game
Rough order of operations: get water in, build a shower, clear the mess, set up solar, repair the barn and the little buildings, fix up Mom's twenty-year-old travel trailer — and then invite people out for alternative-building workshops of all flavors.
So much fun. Wanna come?
Note to self: build a coop for ducks out in the middle of the pond, where the predators can't reach — duck eggs would make jaw-dropping deviled eggs.