I’m Josh. The dog is Boulder. Together, we’re figuring out what happens when you give yourself permission to build a life that feels like your own.

 

After my divorce, I gave myself five years to consider what I wanted the next chapter to look like. My kids were still growing up, and being present for them mattered. That window gave me time to strengthen our relationships, question familiar patterns, and discover what I wanted beyond the roles and responsibilities I had spent years organizing my life around.

 

Therapy helped me examine my choices. Running gave me room to think. Drawing, painting, building, and traveling brought curiosity back into my everyday life. I began to see how much of myself I had kept in separate compartments: father, professional, runner, creator. I wanted to build a life where those parts could support each other—and where my kids could see me practicing the courage and independence I hoped they would find for themselves.

 

That process became the foundation of my book, "I Didn’t Leave to Teach You a Lesson. I Left Because I Learned Mine." It explores the experiences, assumptions, and uncomfortable realizations that led me towards metacognition-the practice of examining my own thoughts, questioning long-held beliefs, and ultimately changing how I understand myself. Writing it has meant taking responsibility for my own choices and recognizing that the life I started with doesn’t have to determine the life I build next.

 

Those ideas now have a physical home: nearly forty acres near Chattanooga, where I’m building Connectivity Farm. The vision is an off-grid home and yurt retreat shaped by creativity, thoughtful use of resources, and room to reconnect—with the land, with other people, and with yourself. “Connect by disconnecting” is the invitation behind it.

 

For now, life stretches between Illinois and Chattanooga: time with my kids, a demanding career, preparing a house for sale, clearing brush, building infrastructure, and turning garage experiments into things that actually work. Some days bring visible progress. Others bring another lesson in how much I still have to learn.

 

And then there’s Boulder—my black Lab, enthusiastic distraction, and reliable reminder that a walk deserves at least as much attention as whatever I’m overthinking. He has little interest in my long-term plans. He would appreciate a snack.

 

Some Dude and Some Dog is where we share all of it: the projects, art, adventures, mistakes, and ordinary moments that make this life ours. Through videos, stories, and the Weekly Connection newsletter, you can follow along as preparation becomes practice and the next chapter takes shape.

 

Come see what happens next. Boulder assumes you’re coming for him.