Real Joe

I’m in Duluth for the US round of the World Trials Championship, taking photos and blogging for the organizers. I did this two years ago but this time it’s a paid gig for my Wigley and Associates business — the first time that a recreational hobby of mine has been a business revenue-producer and business expense-taker instead of a drain on the family budget. Which helps on the home front, minor though it is.

I’m increasingly liking the self-employed life, and if I can get my book Small Business Blogging done by the end of the summer, I’m guessing I’ll like it even more. My big challenge now is being organized and self-disciplined enough so that I get enough billable hours each month and enough book-writing time in each day. I can’t really afford taking a vacation because of the hit in billable hours I’d take. So either I get way ahead of the game by accumulating more billable hours than normal (it’s surprisingly hard to get more than 20 per week). Or I get a book published and generate recurring revenue from it. I like the latter option.

And if I can pull it off in the business blogging world, then I’ll be better equipped to try and pull it off in a Real Joe-related endeavor, like my stalled Ego Orgasms book.

Ever had your sperm count checked? I did, waaaay back 29 years ago or so when we were trying to get pregnant the first time. We tried the Symptothermal Method to no avail and the next step was for me to get checked out.

I don’t exactly remember the instructions the doctor’s office gave me but I recalled the scene when I read Stuart Green’s Sex and the Married Man column in this month’s issue of The Rake. His buddy’s wife had a fit when she found out he used a ‘dirty’ magazine provided by the fertility clinic to help him do what needed to be done to make the required deposit.

Lucky for me, my newly wedded wife had no such hang-ups. As I headed out the door with a, um, glossy magazine tucked into my coat, she sent me off with a with a “Hey, have fun!” smirk and a smooch. It never occurred to me to thank her for not going ballistic. Maybe I’ll do that today.