Why I Hate the Winter Olympics

When the Seattle Seahawks annihilated the Denver Broncos earlier this month in the Super Bowl, among other things it meant that self-proclaimed “Football Widows” received their spouses back until training camps begin over the summer. What I personally didn’t anticipate was becoming a Sports Widower myself less than a week later.

In the interest of full disclosure, I will admit that I’m a big sports fan. I’m also a long-suffering one as I grew up a Cleveland sports fan. If you’re not a sports fan, I can best explain being a Cleveland sports fan like being the punchline in a nightmare. Anything that could go wrong inevitably does in the most publically embarrassing way. But I’ve grown to live with that. And now that I live on the West Coast with two young sons I seldom make time to sit through many games these days that aren’t Go Fish.  

So how did I come to find myself in the position of asking my non-sports fan wife approximately every 15 minutes every night for the last 2 weeks “is this almost over?” Two words: Winter Olympics.

Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be any more pro-American if I had a pet Bald Eagle named Uncle Sam. I just can’t get into the Winter Olympics, no matter how half-heartedly I try. As I mentioned, I grew up in the Midwest, about 20 minutes from a place where I could have gone skiing every winter for 20+ years and opted to never do so. Intentionally. Unlike Elsa from Frozen, the cold always bothered me anyway.

Over the decade-plus my wife and I have been together, I’ve tried watching some of the Winter Olympic Games with her. However, beyond that I have a hard time recognizing it as a sport, spending time watching sequined couples “Ice Dancing” just doesn’t do it for me.

From what I’ve seen the primary objective of at least half of the Winter Olympic events could be listed as “not dying”. Hell, there’s a sport where the “athlete” lies face down on a tiny metal sled going 80+mph down a curvy icy chute, which is actually called “Skeleton”. Foreshadowing much?

This Skeletoner is laying still like a corpse.
How is this a sport?

Then there’s the Biathlon which combines that natural duo of skiing and shooting a rifle which so many people seemingly do every day. I’d call that Polar Military Training before I’d call it a sport. What about Cross Country, which most people who live in cold weather places refer to as “walking on snow”.

And don’t even get me started on Curling, a “sport” which my housekeeper could likely medal in based on her expert-level proficiency at removing piles of Cheerios from the floor with a broom.

As if their "sport" didn't make them look silly enough...

I was sitting with my wife the other night while she watched the 1^st of something like 86 rounds of some skiing event and kept hearing the announcers mention Rosa Khoutour, which I assumed was some sort of Russian fashion brand. Turns out it’s a mountain. Who would have known?

The centerpiece of the Winter Olympics is always the Figure Skating events, and those have eaten up a big chunk of my TiVo for the last 10 nights. No interest. I didn’t even like Blades of Glory and that starred Ron Burgundy and Napoleon Dynamite, two of the funniest dudes from the last decade.

Part of my ancestry actually stems from Russia and I still couldn’t be less interested in a “Homeland vs. Birthland” story line if NBC created one specifically about me, like the packages they show about athletes suffering from hangnails, misplaced iPhones and other tragedies.

The truth is that the most interesting part of the Olympic coverage to me so far has been Bob Costas’ Pink Eye, which would be a great name for a punk-rock band. Bob’s Oozing Oculars (another good band name) has kept me wondering what kind of medical attention he’s getting that he couldn’t work at an event he’d probably be preparing 6 months to a year in advance for. Who is his MD, Dr. Frankenstein?

The good news is that the games will be over in a few more days and I’ll get 4 glorious sequin-less years until they resume. How long until baseball season begins?

Dad 2.0: Quest for the King

Shuffling zombie-like through the damp cloud-covered streets of the French Quarter, I had one last critical goal to accomplish before heading to the Louis Armstrong Airport in New Orleans last Sunday morning. After an inspirational and aspirational weekend at the 3^rd Dad 2.0 Summit it was going to be a race against the clock to complete my mission. 

As one of only a few dozen attendees of all three Dad 2.0s, I had different objectives this year than during the two previous. The first year I was just a newbie blogger who really had no clue why I was there. The second year I went seeking something intangible and as a byproduct stumbled onto something quite tangible. For this go around, though, I had two key objectives and I knew neither would be easy.

New Orleans has special meaning to my family, even though I’d only been there once before this trip, as that’s where Mrs. Dude went to grad school. Just a few months after she graduated and moved back to L.A., we met and 11 years later, here we are now. So when I learned the location of this year’s conference it was with great hesitation that I dared even mention going to her favorite place without her. And being the saint she is, she knew there was a greater purpose and encouraged me to go.

The most unique aspect of this 300-person congregation, unlike any other I’ve ever been to, is the warm inviting feeling conveyed by every single person there. I got to reconnect with old friends and finally meet face-to-face friends whom I’d only known online before. That’s what this conference is all about. Camaraderie. Brotherhood. Empathy. Everyone at Dad 2.0 is in the same boat, even though some are dinghies and some are yachts: every person there wants to be a better parent. Honestly.

For me, the last year has been both wonderful and exasperating. As a result some facets of my life have suffered, like my blog. Trying to compose 700 pithy words when I’m falling asleep in my reheated dinner at 9:00pm has been much more difficult than I expected. Since the Littler Dude arrived, I’ve had a very hard time juggling all the chainsaws I have in the air. It’s a wonderful problem to have, but also uber-challenging. So my chief mission at Dad 2.0 this year was finding that inspiration again, that spark that helped me spit out witty blog posts like peanut shells at a Dodgers game when I started Dude of the House nearly 3 years ago. Little did I know that I’d get my mojo back within 2 hours of the event’s kickoff.

The first morning opened with an inspiring video showing the progress Dads have made in the media over the last 1000 days since Dad 2.0 was first conceptualized:

Jim Higley and Jason Katims

That video was followed in short succession by a welcome from Rob Candelino of Dove Men+Care, one of the few mainstream brands that truly gets us; then an opening keynote conversation with Jason Katims, Executive Producer of NBC’s Parenthood and Bobblehead Dad himself, Jim Higley. The insight into Jason’s creative process and how his own challenging experiences as a father greatly shaped the direction his show has taken was inspiring to a wannabe TV writer like me. 

At last year’s conference in Houston, Brene Brown spoke about vulnerability. This year in New Orleans, Lorne Jaffe exemplified it. It’s hard to put into words how inspiring he truly was.

It was later that first afternoon when I was able to cross Critical Mission #1 off my list: an intimate roundtable discussion with Carter Gaddis of DadScribe, where I learned more about writing in 25 minutes than in the last 2.5+ years I’ve been blogging. I won’t divulge Carter’s storytelling secrets here, rather I hope they’ll add life and color to this blog in the very near future.

Among other important lessons I learned in ‘Nawlins:

• Getting my butt sketched was much more cool than I thought it would be.

• Lee Jeans not only still exists, they actually are pretty awesome.

• Holding an alligator is not something I hope to do again anytime soon, even though my having done so totally delighted the Little Dude.  

• It’s possible to be away from 2 sons for 3 nights and sleep even less than I would at home.

Feeling guilty about leaving my wife with 2 kids meant I could not return home empty-handed, which is why I was roaming the Quarter’s broken beer-scented cobblestone early last Sunday morning. I was on a mission to bring Mrs. Dude a King Cake as a token of appreciation and a fond reminder of her, and now my, time in NoLA.

After consulting Yelp for the best/closest King Cake joint open that early, I headed out for breakfast at Café Beignet, only to discover they had just sold out which meant I was likely going home empty-handed. Thankfully a kind eavesdropper who’d overheard of my quest guided me to a local market about a half-mile down the street.

Speedwalking down the blocks as my glasses fogged up from the mist, I searched frantically for the correct address and prayed they’d have one little King Cake with my name on it. Entering Rouse’s nervously, I was back on the street in 30 seconds with a giant frosted cinnamon sweet under my arm and 8 hours until home. Mission Complete.

The Day Hope Arrived in my Mailbox

A piece of mail.

So often overlooked today, what is now frequently called “snail mail” for its lack of immediacy in a world that demands timeliness, I believe that Postal mail still has its strengths. And today a simple piece of mail gave me hope.

The truth is that I look forward to bringing in the mail every day, for who knows what wonderful surprises may be hiding in a pile of soon-to-be-recyclable bills and their antithesis, credit card offers. The mailman frequently drops off a stack of stress but I cherish the days when he doesn’t.

Sometimes the mailman brings greeting cards meant to elicit smiles, though the ones I received recently just made me feel another year or ten older. Another year has passed me by. It wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t all good either. Our financial tide is starting to turn, though a long road to recovery will come first.

I glance at the glossy postcards for European cruises that I’ll probably never take my family on and toss them quickly toward the recycling bin. I don’t want to torture myself over what I can’t give them today, no matter how badly I wish I could. The Little Dude turned 4 years old recently. His life is just beginning. I want him to have every opportunity in the world to make his life as personally fulfilling as possible, though I know my resources will limit him to some degree.  

So how can I enrich their lives without being rich? Sometimes amazing experiences fall into my lap. Just as this autumn began, I received an unexpected invitation to an LA Dodgers game. What used to be a several times per year activity that I took for granted suddenly hadn’t occurred in several years. The games start at challenging times, it’s too far to easily get to, it’s expensive – those are some of the excuses I’d conjured over the last year or two for why I hadn’t gone.

“Bring your family”, they said. “There’s nothing better than a father taking his son to a baseball game” they said, and my only response was “sure there is, it’s bringing two”. As the Los Angeles air began to turn crisp, I would take my family of 4 to our first baseball game.

After navigating through torrential LA traffic and parking headaches, we made it to Chavez Ravine. Dodger Stadium, home of so many legendary moments. Kirk Gibson’s home run off Dennis Eckersley. Orel Hershiser’s scoreless streak and so many more that I want to share with my sons. In due time, I told myself.

Sitting close enough to hear the catcher’s mitt pop as it swallowed myriad blazing fastballs, my sons’ eyes widened at the largess of what surrounded them. 50,000-plus people wearing blue and cheering toward a common goal, another victory for the good guys. We sang while we stretched and cheered every time the ball screamed off the long pine “toothpicks”. I was enamored by watching them take in the sights and sounds of the experience. Their first Major League experience. Those moments were joy.

The Little Dude wearing his Rally Cap.

Though the home team lost 1-0, my family won 4-0. And not only because of the Dodgers Snuggies the team distributed to all fans in attendance. The Little Dude was hooked on America's pastime. He sang Take Me Out to the Ballgame repeatedly for weeks afterward until I introduced him to John Fogerty’s Centerfield. He asked questions about the players and the game and eagerly wanted to learn more. All in due time, I told him.

With the year ending soon and rare frost in Los Angeles, I look forward to a new year filled with promise, joy and new experiences with my boys. As a frequently let-down fan of my hometown Cleveland Indians, we are often told to “wait ‘til next year”, for hope springs eternal and next year will surely be our year.

Today the mailman brought a catalog. Not for clothes or plumbing supplies or stereo equipment. For experiences. And in a few months the Little Dude will get one of his own when he steps onto a baseball diamond for the first time. Wait ‘til next year? I hardly can.

Disclaimer: The fine folks at Dove Men+Care offered me tickets to a recent LA Dodgers game as part of their "Big League Dads" campaign and it was epic. All opinions expressed in this post are solely mine, for better or worse. 

Lets Talk Bums and Make You The Biggest Winner

Throughout my life, I’ve never been a big winner. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t classify myself as a “loser”, per se, either. I’m referring to winning things*. It could be track meets or class presidencies or even the lottery. None of those things has ever brought me the big prize. My brother, on the other hand, was always a big winner growing up. He had such a knack for winning radio contests, (you know the type, “be caller 9 and win a pair of REO Speedwagon tickets…”) that he had to make up fake names to collect the myriad prizes he somehow won. But not me.

In the last couple of years, however, my luck has changed and I have won things. In 2012, I won a free pass to the Dad 2.0 Conference in Austin and in 2013, I won a free stay at the Four Seasons in Houston for the Dad 2.0 conference.  Oh, and did I mention that going to those two events changed my life?

Why am I telling you this? Because this is the final week for you to write a hi-larious haiku for Cottonelle’s Let’s Talk Bums contest. 2 more finalists will win $200 Amazon gift cards next Monday, November 4. They’ll be added to a pool with 5 others for a shot at the Grand Prize: an all-expenses paid trip to Dad 2.0 in New Orleans next January31-February 1, 2014. Even better than that, you’ll get to meet me there. What could be better than that, you ask? I know — REO Speedwagon tickets. 

Seriously though, here are the 5 winners so far. Think you can match wits with the best and the brightest of the Dad Blogger world these Dudes?:  

Please keep in mind that some of these winners are veteran bloggers and some are rookies just called up from the minors. Experience doesn’t matter. Humor does.

Keep the Haiku(s) clean, like the Cottonelle Care Routine does for your bum.  What’s that again, you ask?  The rad double wiping system to keep your bum fresh and happy. You start with dry paper and then cool down with some Cottonelle Fresh Wipes. Like Colt .45, they work every time.

So give it a shot. Tweet your Haiku now through Sunday morning, November 3 and it could be you flying the freebie train to NoLA, with extra cash in your hand to buy all your new friends Beignets at Café du Monde. I’ll take two.  

For full contest info, visit wipingpoetic.com. (Make sure your Tweeted Haiku have both the #LetsTalkBums and #Haiku tags to be entered!)

Disclaimer: I need to come clean (see what I did there?) and tell you that I was compensated by Kimberly Clark to participate in this campaign, but all opinions expressed in this post are entirely mine, for better or worse. 

*I did win a Chaka Khan album on a radio call-in once, but the winner had to pick the record up from the station and I was only 12 or so and couldn’t drive. No record for me. 

Privatizing Public Pooping or How Cottonelle Saved My Bum

Many moons ago I worked for a very large company in a very tall building. It was one of those buildings where you needed a keycard to access different floors for security reasons. It was also the building used as Nakatomi Plaza in the original Die Hard movie.  And on more than one occasion after a greasy lunch in the commissary, I had a feeling that I might literally die hard if I couldn’t find some relief, pronto. 

But the awkward thing about handling your business in your place of business is that everyone around is all up in your business. On the long hikes to and from the restroom, one’s privacy can quickly dissipate. And given the odds that your cubicle-mate could also be your stall-neighbor, it can lead to very uncomfortable situations.

As someone looking to maximize the value of a job that I was bored with by noon on my first day, after a couple of these potentially embarrassing episodes I figured out a creative workaround to relieve my literal and figurative levels of discomfort. I started using my keycard for afternoon jaunts to the 14^th floor. Being a dozen levels above my colleagues led to much more pleasant expulsion experiences for me. I intentionally chose a floor where I wouldn’t have to worry about running into anyone I might have to deal with professionally, and felt much more comfortable with my afternoon delights.

Speaking of comfort, public restrooms rarely leave you feeling either well-rested or entirely clean. The cheap perforated balsa wood they try to pass off as TP is something our military wouldn’t even use to torture prisoners at Guantanamo Bay because it’d be considered cruel and unusual punishment. One thing that I think the next Presidential campaigns should call for is mandating the Cottonelle Care Routine in all bathrooms.

 In case you forgot, the Cottonelle Care Routine is the way to maximize your post-poop comfort level via a two-step method of dry wiping with Cottonelle toilet paper and then wet wiping with Cottonelle Fresh Wipes. Your bum will thank you. No, I don’t mean Larry the guy wearing footie pajamas and suspenders hanging out in front of your local Starbucks. I mean your built-in bum that you use as a portable seat cushion every time you sit. It treats you well and you should reciprocate. Keep it nice, clean and fresh. I wish they’d had the Cottonelle Care Routine when I worked at Nakatomi Plaza. Then I truly would have been comfortable in the lap of luxury.

To help make you even more comfortable with this touchy subject, the rad folk at Cottonelle suggest we break down the toilet-talk taboo and are sponsoring a Haiku contest called Lets Talk Bums.

Three people have already won $200 Amazon gift cards for Tweeting a haiku about their bathroom habits and four more will win over the next few weeks. Here are the winners so far:

Winner #1: @dad_strangeland
Did you wipe? I ask / My four year old shakes her head / Pants already raised.

Winner  #2: @jesteram
Cottonelle sheets, wipes— / like yin and yang for your butt: / Two forces, one whole.

Winner #3: @DeadTurkeyBlog
Please try Cottenelle. / Like wiping with a pillow. / Without the divorce.

As if that’s not enough, those winners are being entered into a drawing for the Grand Prize: An all-expenses-paid trip to the Dad 2.0 conference in New Orleans, February 2014.  And to top that, they (or you??) will get to meet me there.

Tweet your haiku (make sure to keep it clean, like your tush) and be sure to use the #LetsTalkBums and #Haiku hashtags to be entered. Visit wipingpoetic.com for all the details, awesome haiku and more. Then come visit Cottonelle on Facebook and Lets Talk Bums. Larry won’t mind.   

Got any good bathroom misadventures to share? Please leave 'em in the comments below. 

Disclaimer: I need to come clean (see what I did there?) and tell you that I was compensated by Kimberly Clark to participate in this campaign, but all opinions are entirely mine, for better or worse. 

Cleaning Up in the Bathroom

Earlier this year, we finally potty trained the Little Dude. He’d already turned 3 and we’d talked about doing it about 8 months sooner, but life got in the way. After a whirlwind weekend of rushing him to the bathroom every 10 minutes, he quickly got the hang of things and was eager to move on to his next stage of life: wearing Big Boy Underpants.

I was ready, too. As his brother had arrived a few months earlier, buying diapers for two was not ideal. And when he refused to wear even a nighttime diaper on the second night of potty training, I praised his independence, even as I feared for his sheets. But my son didn’t let me down, and his sheets have happily stayed dry every night since.

But there was one little thing that I didn’t take into account independence-wise. Even though he was regularly using the toilet for both primary and secondary bodily functions, there was still the duty of cleaning up the doodie after he was finished. Yes, I’m talking about wiping. It’s a dirty subject and some  even consider it taboo, but the truth is everybody does it. (Or at least all men, as I’ve been told women don’t poop, but that’s a story for a different day.)

The Little Dude was under the impression that toilet paper is something to use as a way of hiding the evidence, before it’s flushed away. Truth be told, after trying TP on him a few times, I gave up. It never quite did the job it should have. So on one trip to the store, we picked up a packet of Cottonelle Flushable Wipes. I didn’t know such a thing existed. I also didn’t know that regular wipes weren’t flushable, but I learned that the hard way. I theorized that if “baby wipes” had worked on him to that point, why stop just because he was a “big boy” now?   Then I figured if he’s a big boy and he could use wipes, perhaps I should also explore the option, as a bigger boy with bigger, um, needs.

Needless to say, I was thrilled to recently discover an extremely logical system for bathroom cleanliness issues: the Cottonelle Care Routine. Simply put, the CCR says that you should first wipe with dry toilet paper and then have a second level of cleaning with their wet wipes.  It’s like how you wash your car with soap before you go over it a second time with a coat of wax. Doubling up leads to a far shinier end product.  The Cottonelle Care Routine, when executed correctly, also leads to a far shinier end product. And a cleaner feeling.

The truth is that I’ve already been a big Cottonelle fan for many years (I’m partial to the fluffy kind in the purple package), so I was thrilled when they asked me to spread the word about the magic of Cottonelle wipes & their “Let’s Talk Bums” contest. As a true believer in the magic of a clean bum, I want to encourage you to give it a shot, too. And what could make this more fun than a contest where we talk about bathroom activities? (In a clean way, both literally and figuratively.)

So what do you have to do? You’re going to put on your thinking caps and come up with some Haiku, yes Haiku, about how Cottonelle Flushable Wipes and the CCR do things like change the way you think about cleaning yourself, your bathroom habits and other formerly taboo subjects. Let’s keep it clean, but make them funny, witty, clever, punny and full of entendre. You are going to post those Haiku, with the hashtags #LetsTalkBums and #Haiku on Twitter, but you can also share them on Instagram, Facebook and all the other places you already hang out while pretending to check your email at work.

“But Dude, I don’t remember what a Haiku is?”

Here’s a little refresher course to go along with your refresher course (see what I did there?):

At its most simple, a haiku is a 17-syllable poem separated into three lines; the first and third lines comprise five syllables each, and the second has seven. In order to differentiate these lines, you can either add a line space (using your Enter key), or a “/” at the end of lines 1 and 2.

Here’s an example of my first Haiku Tweet:

So what can you win? Well, each week a panel of experts (me and a half dozen other Dudes) will select the best #LetsTalkBums Haiku Tweet and its Tweeter will win a $200 Amazon gift card. Not bad, right?

At the end of the contest, one of the 7 weekly winners will be chosen at random to win the Grand Prize of an all expenses paid trip to the Dad 2.0 Conference in New Orleans January 30-February 1^st, 2014. 

That’s right, airfare, hotel and a conference pass to hang out with some amazing people, and yours truly, can be yours for thinking of 17 clever syllables. Make me and your 10^th grade English teacher proud and Tweet away.

There’s also going to be a Twitter Party on Monday, September 30, 2013 from 8:00-9:00pm EST hosted by the inimitable @whithonea where they’ll be giving away an iPad Mini and some $50 Amazon gift cards. What do you have to lose? Let’s talk bums, and have fun doing so. Full contest rules are at wipingpoetic.com.

Here’s one more Haiku to get you in the mood:

Come join me, get clean / You could go to New Orlean / Everybody Poops

Disclaimer: I was compensated by Kimberly Clark to participate in this campaign, but all opinions are entirely mine, for better or worse. (And yes, I really use Cottonelle products that I pay for.)

I Got a Job (or How Going to Dad 2.0 Changed My Life)

I got a job.

Rather, I should say, I got a new job, as I already had several jobs both paid and unpaid. The most important and lowest paying one, Father, is easily also the most grueling and most worthwhile. But earlier this year, I decided to look for an additional new challenge.

Something that I could get excited about doing every day and be proud to share with people I meet.

Something that would get me back to being a professional people-person. And not just people in diapers.

Though overdue, I procrastinated the search knowing that it would likely be a major challenge I “didn’t have time for”. Or that’s what I kept telling myself. But then a magical thing happened. I found inspiration in possibly both the most, and also the least, obvious place for me: Houston, Texas.

One only eats things like this in Texas. 

Since I live in Los Angeles, what in Houston could make a loyal West Coaster decide to change his life? Beside good Bar-B-Que, of course. The Dad 2.0 conference. When I attended the second annual conference early this year, I wasn’t sure exactly why I went. Beyond the opportunity to meet and spend time with an amazing group of writers from around the globe, I knew there had to be another reason. Turns out, it was finding a new life path.

At that conference, I spoke to several great Dudes who each inspired me in their own ways. They are all tremendous writers and even better people. So I wanted to thank a few of them for their incredible support, encouragement and friendship of this Dude.

·         Jim Lin: Though I don’t remember the exact dialogue, I’ll never forget Jim’s “Three-Headed Dad” speech where he literally proved just how many hats Fathers really do wear.  Sure, we are parents to our children, and as I mentioned above, that is easily the most important hat we wear, but it’s the other hats we wear that shape us as parents, spouses, employees, consumers and more. Jim’s inspiration extended beyond the conference as I sought to blaze a new trail toward the future.

·         Alan Kercinik: I’d never heard of Alan’s blog before his address at the conference and was quickly blown away by some of the observations this advertising guru presented to a motley crew of Dads. Approachable and open-minded to helping some Dude he’d similarly never heard of before, Alan’s encouragement led me down the path to where I am today.

·         Ron Mattocks: Ron’s practical advice as a Social Media professional gave me the courage to look for new options and really try to find my way toward something great. Ron gave me great inside information that I was able to utilize in my search process. 

·         C.C. Chapman: C.C. gave an inspiring keynote at the inaugural Dad 2.0 in Austin last year and we became Facebook friends sometime after that. When I introduced myself in person this year in Houston, there were two things I wanted to talk to him about: a book and a tattoo.  Just before the conference, I’d noticed a picture on C.C.’s Facebook feed of a tattoo he’d recently gotten that said “Not All Who Wander Are Lost”. That quote was familiar to me from my days following the Grateful Dead, as I remember it emblazoned on t-shirts at Dead shows in the early 1990s. I discovered that it’s a J.R.R. Tolkien quote from Lord of the Rings, and is something I’ve thought a lot about during the last few months of my quest. 

      The quote was apropos when considered alongside C.C.’s book that had been recently published before the conference, Amazing Things Will Happen. I asked a little about the book and C.C. generously offered to send me a copy, which he promptly did and for which I am extremely thankful because I am happy to report that, just a few months later, amazing things have happened to me. Not only did I find an amazing new career, but I found one with a company that respects families and encourages its employees to be active parents via extremely flexible work schedules. For this, I am grateful. 

You  might be wondering why I am telling you about this stuff that really doesn’t fit into the greater parenting theme of this blog. The reality is, without this blog, I never would have gotten the job. When I started writing this blog 2+ years ago, the shoot-for-the-moon goal I had in mind was to parlay it into writing for television. A friend encouraged me to start a blog as a way to keep practicing my craft while building a portfolio. So I did, and subsequently discovered this incredibly supportive community which I’ve developed through Social Media. My blog’s Social pages are not the biggest, nor will they ever be, but they are strong enough that they have led to amazing friendships and opportunities, like attending the Dad 2.0 Conferences. And they led to a Management position for an established Social Media company that works with some of the largest corporations in the world, who I am already working with after just a few weeks.

To quote the great poet Robert Hunter “Once in a while you get shown the light, in the strangest of places if you look at it right.”

It’s true, C.C., amazing things can happen.

I’m living proof.  

I highly recommend that you grab a copy of C.C.'s book. 

You can find "Amazing Things Will Happen" here on Amazon. 

And if you don't already know the Dudes mentioned above, click the links on their names and check out their great blogs. Trust me.