Warning: Longish, somewhat sappy post ahead. Read at your own risk.

When you do corporate communications for a living, you learn to bitch a lot. You bitch about approval processes and designers and executives who think they can write and lawyers who think they are Gods and employees who won’t read and IT people who won’t return your calls and lots of other bitch-worthy things.

And when you’re a corporate communications consultant, as I am, you get even better at bitching. Because you have more to bitch about.

You bitch about all of the above but also clients who don’t take your advice and all the travel you have to do and lousy hotels and the crooked cab drivers and the jerks in the airports and the people who take 120 days to pay your lousy $2,000 invoice and on and on and piss and moan.

So I bitch more than most people . . . and much of that is done on this blog, which is like therapy for me.

But lately, I’ve actually been thinking about how lucky I am, and how much I have to give thanks for.

There’s all the regular stuff, of course. I have the perfect son, Zach, who is everything you would want a kid to be. Every parent should be lucky enough to have a Zach.

And I have the perfect wife, Cindy, who as far as I’m concerned is the standard by which all other people should be judged.

Hell, I even have the perfect ex-wife, Tracey. I think I get along with her better than many people get along with their current wives.

My life is pretty damned good, on the family level.

But that’s not what I’ve been thankful about lately. I’ve been thankful for the people I get to work with, as a seminar leader and as a consultant.

The past two months have been the busiest of my career. I've been on a professional death march to Washington, DC, Colorado, Dallas, Edmonton, St. Louis, London, and San Francisco. On top of that, I’ve had two conferences here in Chicago sandwiched in between.

It's been a blur of airports, hotels, cabs, airport bars, and hotel bars.

And I’ve bitched the entire time, loudly and to anyone who would listen.

But now that I’m done, and have had this week to relax and cook and think about stuff, I realize how lucky I am. Here’s a short recap of the two months:

The marathon started with a trip to DC, to teach Advance Writing and Editing, with Jim Ylisela. Jim is the guy who married me and Cindy. We got drunk one night, went on the internet, got him officially sanctioned by the Universal Life Church of the Holy High God Apostle, or some such group, and he was able to marry us.

He’s a terrific guy . . . and I love teaching with him. It’s almost like it’s not work, but play. Only I get paid for it. And the DC crowd was terrific. How lucky is that, to be able to teach with someone you love, to a crowd that really gets into it?

The death march then came back to Chicago, to a company called Textron. They were having their annual communicator’s conference, and invited me to come in and give a session.

But that’s not all they invited me to. They also invited me to a Cubs game the night before the event! And . . . they offered me an extra ticket, so I could bring my son.

Those are the kind of people I get to work with. The guy who hired me, Tom, showed up for the game wearing a bandanna like a pirate, and him and I drank beers the entire night and watched the Cubs win.

The game was great, the people were fantastic, the event was a hit, and I made a little money. What’s there to bitch about, right?

Then, it was time for Ragan’s Social Media Conference, where I did a pre-conference session with my wife, Cindy, on podcasting. How lucky is that, to be able to present a session with your wife? It was like teaching with Jim, only I could have sex afterwards! What could be better?

Then it was on to AWE in Boulder, where Jim and I had another great class, and an exquisite, romantic dinner at a place up in the mountains, called The Flagstaff House. If you’ve never been there, and you get a chance to go to Boulder, you must go.

The bar is a cozy nook that serves Boodles gin, the food is terrific, and the view is unreal. Jim and I sat there like a couple of lovers, eating oysters, drinking martinis, and gazing down upon the twinkling lights of Boulder.

Then it was down to Dallas, where I got to hang out with Tonda, Katie, Steve, and the rest of the crew from Southwest Airlines at the Communication Roundup conference. Not only some of the smartest and most creative people in the business, but also probably the nicest. What’s not to like about that?

Then, it was up to Edmonton, where I spent a week training the employees of the government of Alberta. While this may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, it was also the most rewarding.

Spending a week at one organization, you really feel like you can make a difference. And I think I did. And the people where so great. On my last day, one of the women who brought me in, Carol, gave me three things:

1. Homemade chocolate that her husband made;
2. A beautiful Thank You card;
3. A card to give to my son, Zach. It read: “Zach: Thanks for sharing your dad with us. He's really smart, and we learned a lot from him.”

That one made me weep. Nobody’s ever done that before. And after not seeing Zach for six days, it was so cool to be able to hand him that card, and watch his face as he read it.

Of course, he liked the chocolate better. He may be perfect, but he’s still only eight.

Then it was down to St. Louis, to speak at a Catholic health organization. Again, I was invited out to a wonderful dinner the night before, where I got to make some great new friends.

The next day, at the seminar, they started the proceedings with a prayer. Now, that was a first for me. And it made me a little nervous. My speaking style, as well as the stories I tell, are in direct conflict with all of the major religions of the world.

But I had nothing to worry about. In fact, it may have been the most fun I’ve ever had teaching. It was a rollicking four hours, with everyone laughing and getting into it. When a seminar is going really, really well, it becomes almost like a one-man show, complete with improvisational humor and audience participation. This was like that.

And midway through, Suzy, the woman who brought me in, came up to me and said: “I’m going to get the boss. He needs to hear this.”

So she did, and the Big Guy came in for the rest of the day and listened. Again, I got the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I made a difference.

Then it was off to London, where Marc and Bev Wright put me up in their English Country Manor Estate. But you know all about that from previous posts.

The death march then turned to San Francisco, where Jim and I had yet another perfect crowd for AWE, with about 30 people joining us in the bar at the top of the Hyatt, overlooking San Francisco. How perfect is that?

Finally, it all ended in Chicago, at the first-ever meeting of the Ragan Fellowship, where I got to spend an amazing, intense three days with a dozen senior communicators. I'm going to write more about the Fellowship later, but suffice to say that it may have been the most rewarding three days I've ever spent, professionally.

Looking back, there wasn’t a bad experience in the marathon. I’ve already forgotten about the shitty airport martinis and the bad hotel room service and the assholes with the dingleberry dildos sticking out of their ears talking to themselves.

I only remember the people. And they were magnificent. All of them.

Thanksgiving is my holiday. My son and I will cook all night tonight; we’ll have a fire roaring for three days straight; tomorrow my entire family will come to my house for the feast; we'll go through a case or two of wine.

And this year, like every other year, I’ll have a lot to be thankful for. And that includes the people I’ve taught, the people I’ve had the pleasure of working with, and the people who read and post on this blog.

Thanks for taking the time to read my therapy occasionally, and to comment on it once in a while.

Have a great Thanksgiving.