"Nothing. Nothing important," I evasively respond as I click away on the keyboard while my wife and I camp in front of an episode of Biggest Loser. Never mind that I have no idea what's going on. I'm working on the GiveCamp marketing plan. She thinks I'm surfing People or ET. "Saturday. Do you mind if I take the girls to dance? I can also do the 11:30 pickup," because that buys me two hours of uninterrupted time on a Saturday morning. I can park at Starbucks and get some work done. Why would she say no if she gets more uninterrupted sleep.

"How was your day?"

"Fine." I leave it at that hoping she won't ask for more detail. I hide this stuff like it's the fifth of Jack I told her I'd discarded. Why? I'm not sure. But what else am I going to do. There isn't a 12-step program to wean me off of volunteerism.

I'm not alone. In my day job I work with someone who shares a similar outlook. In fact, we met yesterday for lunch to plan the scholarship funding after party for the University of Cincinnati McMicken College of Arts & Science Alumni Gala. We also talked about her work with a local non-profit theater and the Junior League as well as my work with HOPE worldwide. Then I spent last night gathering information about a program HOPE worldwide Cincinnati Chapter would like to start in Avondale, putting together content for the local chapter website, communicating with the chair of the HOPE worldwide National Chapter Advisory Board about a call we have Saturday, responding to a woman I'm working with to get her business off the ground, setting up time with a professor and a student at UC's DAAP to generate designs for a vehicle a high school student would like to create, and reviewing material for an initiative I'm part of at UC called UC^3 that formalizes a cross-discipline certificate program in entrepreneurship and innovation. Over lunch we agreed we both love our day jobs, but there are dimensions of ourselves that we simply can't exercise in a job. We need other outlets.

"Hey babe," says my wife as she and the kids walk in from dance.

"Hi!" as I close the lid to my laptop, help her unpack, and get the kids to bed. Not another word.