Posts Tagged ‘fishing’


The Boys and Girls of Summer.


EDITOR’S NOTE: This is a sponsored post on behalf of the Tylenol #HowWeFamily campaign, however the experiences, thoughts and opinions are all mine. If you’ve been a trusty loyal follower, drinking the Dad or Alive Kool-aid, you’re fully aware that we’ve packed up and moved (once again) further south, to the coastal country of Virginia.


The Sport I Loved to Hate.


When we were kids, my dad would make us help him with the yard work in the summer. Instead of using the grass catcher, he would fire it into the atmosphere and start handing out rakes. Perhaps it was to get us out of the house and give mom a break, so she could dance


MILK: My Family and Giving Back.


In 1981, my parents bought an empty, wooded plot of land in Lehigh County, Pennsylvania from my mom’s uncle, John. My dad would spend many late-night hours devoting his time towards designing a house for our family. He had a vision for their homestead, the roof that would provide shelter to his wife and children.


How I Discovered My Love for the Outdoors as a Child.

1 comment

Disclosure: I am currently serving as a “Play Ambassador” for Let’s Play. This is a sponsored post, however, the opinions expressed are my own. Sometimes love is found in the most mysterious of places… and ways. Ever since I was young, I’ve never questioned my passion for nature and the outdoors. What was the inspiration, you


Men Overboard.


Recently my dad got an iPhone (he’s old school) and MUCH to my surprise, he’s been texting and taking pictures like a man possessed.  A few weeks ago, he shot this picture over to me during an early morning trip to our local lake, wearing a pair of Fisherman Eyewear Grander sunglasses that I’d procured


DAD’S IN DEEP SH!T #21: The Cosmetic Surgeon.


I’m a guy.  Luckily for my wife, I’ve always been a guy.  I know about guy stuff.  Between my dad and two younger brothers, we’ve got everything under the ‘umbrella of dude knowledge’ covered.  We know construction, fishing, sports and on occasion, when a situation demands it, unhooking bras with our teeth. Don’t get me