Social Stigmas in Choices of Jeans

I received an email message the other day from a guy who wrote to me with a question about jeans:

Are there any stigmas associated with guys who wear Dickies jeans to say, a western dance club or concert?

He probably wrote to me after reading my tutorial on jeans and boots. Lots of guys obsess about whether to wear jeans inside or outside of boots. Some have questions about the “right” type of jeans to wear with boots. This probably was the case with this writer.

Here is what I said in reply:

There’s nothing wrong with wearing Dickies jeans. If that’s what you like, then that’s great. Dickies jeans aren’t as common in some parts of the country as in others. I have seen lots of guys wearing Dickies jeans and boots in Oklahoma, for example. I don’t see them much around Maryland where I live, but they’re just not found in our local stores as much as Levis and Wranglers.

Dickies jeans are less costly than Wranglers or Levis, but are well made so they are a better value. Wranglers and Levis have a cost mark-up just for the name. Dickies doesn’t have that reputation. So actually, you’re making a statement when you wear Dickies jeans that you appreciate good value and quality.

In my opinion, people who judge others because they’re not wearing the most popular name-brand apparel have some growing up to do. Believe me, I live with that all the time where I live in the DC area.

One thing to consider is that people make judgments by how people LOOK in what they wear, and not only on the actual clothing. Stand tall, smile, and look confident. That can go a long way into what others perceive about you, regardless of your clothing choices.

So wear your Dickies proudly. Thanks for asking.

Life is short: wear what you like, proudly.

Weekends are Too Short

Whoever arranged things so you have only two days off on a weekend didn’t get it right. Don’t we all feel that we need or at least want to have twice the time? Too bad we all can’t convince our employers to reverse things, and give us five-day weekends and only have to work two days each week with no reduction in pay. (giggle.)

Yes, my doctor cleared me to ride my Harley when I saw him on Friday. The joy, though, is bittersweet. I do not have much time to take a “journey ride” on it. Sure, I got out for an hour on Saturday, but that was all that I could manage to squeeze in.

My partner wanted to go to a newly re-opened nearby trolley museum yesterday. While I would rather be out riding, and I would love to have him with me as my passenger, he is physically unable to join me as a passenger any more, so our joint activities no longer involve the bike.

The museum visit was lame, I have to admit. Not much to see. My partner was disappointed. We have ridden the trams in Philadelphia, San Francisco, Toronto, Vienna, Munich, Frankfort, and the world’s largest system in Melbourne (Australia), among other places. What we saw at this local museum was negligible in comparison with real, active trolley/tram systems elsewhere.

But it was what he wanted to do, and considering that he gave up his life to take care of me while I was recovering from my broken leg, doing something he wanted to do was the least I could do for him. I went along and we made the best of it. He loves trolleys, and they are the feature of this museum, but there wasn’t much to see. The “free ride” went around a little loop and was all of two minutes. It was kinda cheesy. But… there we were.

By the time we got home, I got busy editing a video for another political candidate I am supporting. Then it was time for bed. Where does time fly? Well, obviously, not from the seat of my Harley (LOL!)

As I started this post, I’ll say again, weekends are too short.

Life is short: starts on a weekend.


Feels Sooooo Good!

Within my crazy-busy weekend, I carved out some “me time” to get back on my Harley since the doc said the broken leg was history. It was wonderful!

First, I carefully checked the bike over from front to back, from tires to seat to cables to lights to controls. The bike has been sitting idle on a trickle charger since last I rode it in the middle of January. Then I broke my leg, and couldn’t ride…. What a long, dreary wait. Fortunately, everything was fine and the tires only needed a little air.

I wasn’t sure I would have time to go for a ride on Saturday. I had some friends offer to come over in the morning and ride with me, but I had to turn them down because I had commitments for my community work. A meeting, building a website for a political candidate, taking some elder buds grocery shopping, caring for my aunt… all these things plus some work around the house take time.

My partner and I had a meeting of the minds, and he agreed that I just had to get it out of my system: I had to ride! So by early afternoon, the critical things were done, and I had time to get booted and on the saddle of my beloved Road King.

I pulled on my new Champion Attitude harness boots that have burgundy leather shafts that match the Harley’s colors, and black ostrich feet. Kinda cool, and different. They fit well over my jeans.

I pulled on my leather jacket, rolled the bike into the drive, and it started up right away. I carefully engaged the clutch, dropped it into first, and off I went … around the cul-de-sac to get used to riding again. As I was doing this maneuver, a biker bud who I know rode over. He said that he thought he would check to see if I were going for a ride since he saw a post I had made on a public forum. His timing couldn’t have been better!

We rode on some back roads and byways, slowly but surely. My bike loves to ride, and the boots enjoyed their first experience being used as they were designed: biker’s boots!

We didn’t stay out long. I had another meeting to attend in the late afternoon. But it sure was nice to get out.

My leg is a little sore, in all honesty, and as I am writing this post on Saturday night, I have ice on it. But I also have the biggest smile on my face! Woo-hoo! I am reintroducing you to Booted Harleydude: biker, community caregiver, spirited worker, … all these things. But most of all, I’m a very happy man.

Life is short: there is life after a broken leg!

Oh Doc, Sneakers? Ya Gotta Be Kiddin!

I saw the orthopedic specialist yesterday afternoon, and as expected, he said that I have recovered from the broken leg and I can resume my regular activities “as tolerated.” Woo-hoo!!!

At the close of his examination, he turned to me and said, “wear sneakers for the next few months.” Yeah, right.

I said, “really, why?”

He said, “you will still have some swelling, so the sneakers can expand to accommodate it.”

I said, “what about boots that lace up?”

He didn’t know what to say. He just smiled and said, “sneakers will be fine. You won’t be able to wear boots for a while.”

Little does he know. I’ve already been wearing boots for three weeks. I have choices of boots that can accommodate the minor swelling that I have and do not cause me any discomfort. So to heck with the sneakers: “resume normal activities as tolerated” means, to me, wearing boots. That’s that.

Now, to work on carving down that huge list of “gotta-dos!” then get out a ride!

Life is short: wear your boots!

Getting Busy

While it wasn’t any fun being confined to home during the period of recovery from my broken leg, at least I had a good excuse. I couldn’t walk, and Mother Hubbard partner wouldn’t let me go out at all, period, for any reason except to the doctor for scheduled follow-ups.

Now that I have returned to work and am resuming a more regular personal schedule, the demands on my time have skyrocketed. Turns out that several organizations that wanted to hold meetings and have me attend during the time I was laid up with the broken leg decided to postpone their meetings until I was better … and then schedule their meetings all at once.

This week, I have been to four meetings in three days, and I’m already feeling quite tired. How did I get myself into this? Yeah, I know: that word “yes” has something to do with it. I really have trouble saying “no” when I have no specific reason (like a broken leg.)

I educated three groups that they can do quite well without me, so I am weaning off regularly attending their meetings. There are others, though, in which I serve as an officer or as a leader or as a past-but-sage adviser and to which I have made commitments. I am backing one county and one state political candidate and serving as their webmasters, and we have to meet to get their sites updated. So I’m there at all these non-work-related meetings. Tonight I have a family dinner, followed by three meetings on the weekend, caring for my aunt, and so on will keep this “former” hobbler moving.

I am trying not to get my hopes up too high, but I hope the doc says that I can get back on my Harley when I have my next visit with him today. That’ll be wonderful. Then to find the time to get the bike checked out and me on it… and not offend my partner too much with my more frequent absences. He has grown accustomed to my being home all the time, and likes it. He dislikes it when I’m gone. Now I’m gone more… and more… oh brother. Such is my life.

Work has been hellaciously busy, too, so all day I work-work-work and barely have time to eat the lunch that I bring with me. But that helps keep me occupied, and feeling productive.

I am not completely recovered. I still am sore and am moving slowly. However, I am wearing two boots and walking on my own, fairly well, without limping. I’d say I’m at 95%.

If you send me an email and I don’t reply… don’t take it personally. I literally just don’t have the time to respond to email quickly. I will, eventually. Thanks for your patience.

Typical Weekday In a Gay Couple’s Life

I was reading a recent article titled Myth of the ‘gay lifestyle’ justifies bias by LZ Granderson (CNN post no longer on-line). He made many good points about the fact that there really isn’t a difference between how gay couples and straight couples live. He made many other good points, too.

His life with his partner is different from ours. His partner pays for a gym membership, while my partner works out with gym equipment at home (we abhor ongoing expenses). He has adopted a child; we don’t have children.

My partner and I are different from other people in other ways, but that doesn’t have to do with being gay. I thought I would describe what a typical weekday is like for my partner and me.

I naturally awaken between 4:00 and 4:15am. My partner rises and goes to a bathroom down the hall where he keeps all of his messy shaving stuff. That leaves the master bath available for me. I use it, brush my teeth and wash up, and perhaps take a quick shower. Ten minutes later I am getting dressed for work.

I go to our kitchen and prepare breakfast and lunch for both my partner and me. I usually cut slices from a home-made loaf of bread. I toast some bread for breakfast. I make sandwiches and add some lo-cal snacks like cereal and breadsticks. I fill two small plastic containers with juice. I add a cup of yogurt to my partner’s lunch, too. I may prepare an egg or muffin, fill glasses with OJ, and sit down for a moment to enjoy my breakfast. I leave my partner’s breakfast for him on the kitchen table.

I get the paper from the drive and leave it on the kitchen counter next to my partner’s lunch, then go back up to my home office and get busy with things like a small consulting practice, or answering constituent email. My partner rushes in, embraces me and gives me a kiss goodbye. I work for about another half-hour, then leave myself.

We both commute into the city and work all day at our respective jobs (which are far apart enough that we have never met during the day). Being frugal, we don’t “go for coffee” or eat lunch at restaurant. We eat our own lunches and enjoy snacks we’ve packed for ourselves.

On my way home from work, I stop by my aunt’s home to check on her, and perhaps visit with some of my elder buds. By the time I get home, my partner is just arriving as well. I change clothes to the typical jeans, t-shirt, and boots and prepare a home-cooked dinner. While dinner is cooking, I call some older friends to check in with them. I serve dinner promptly at 6pm. We talk about the day and enjoy our meal media- and phone-free. During this time, I may also bake a cake for a friend’s birthday, another loaf of bread, or both. I enjoy multitasking in the kitchen.

On a typical evening, after dinner I head out to a community meeting. I am involved in a variety of activities and groups. I leave those meetings so I can be home by 9pm at the latest, even if the meeting has not ended. My partner and I then go to bed.

If I have a “free” evening (i.e., no meetings), my partner and I will relax in our basement. He may watch something he has recorded on our DVR, while I slave away at my computer — answering more email, reviewing plans, updating candidate websites, keeping abreast on the latest local news, and so on. I shut all that off by 8pm and curl up with my partner to have some “us time.”

Since we do not have children, our lives are different from the gay guy whose story prompted this one. We don’t go to a gym before work. We don’t dine out with friends, and we avoid shopping for anything other than groceries. Sure, that makes us different from other couples but our differences from others have nothing to do with the fact that we are gay. We are frugal home-bodies. We enjoy our home and reap the benefits of not spending money at gyms, restaurants, or expensive gadgets like smartphones.

Our typical weekday is similar to a typical weekday of any couple who work for a living. Kinda boring, isn’t it? I have no idea what those who think that “the gays” are out to impose their “gay agenda” on everyone else. They are afraid of what they don’t know. They are afraid to admit that perhaps our life is just as normal and sane as everyone else’s. Face it, they’re just afraid. When fear controls thinking, bad things happen.

Life is short: enjoy your life, however you live it.

Ripped Off!

Crime happens even in the nicest places, and even where you feel the safest: at home. Don’t let me frighten you — I am okay. I am peeved, but I am okay. Here’s what happened.

On Monday night, I left my truck on my driveway in front of my house instead of inside the garage. The garage door makes a heck of a lot of noise when it opens. My partner had the day off on Tuesday, so I thought I would be a good schnook and park my truck on the driveway so I could avoid opening the garage door in the morning when I left for work so my partner could sleep later.

When I went out to my truck at 5:30, I clicked the remote to unlock it. I opened the back liftgate, where I had remembered that I left my backpack. It wasn’t there. I thought that was odd, but perhaps it was in the back seat. I went to the passenger side and opened the back door, and saw a slew of paper all over the seats and floor. I then opened the front passenger door and saw more papers thrown all over, and the storage areas open.

Then it finally dawned on me: DAMN! I’VE BEEN RIPPED OFF BY A THIEF!

What was strange, though, was that the thief actually dumped my backpack into my truck — thus why the papers were all strewn about. He/sh/it left a portable flash drive and even my umbrella which was in the pack. But the pack was gone. It was inexpensive, but was a gift from my partner to me because he knew that as I was first returning to work, I couldn’t carry a briefcase.

As I looked around, I noticed that my console storage area was open and empty. I don’t keep much in there but a tire pressure checker and a couple of CDs. The thief left the CDs. I guess he/sh/it doesn’t like Linda Ronstadt or the Doobie Brothers. No accounting for taste in thieves.

Upon further inspection, my glove compartment was open, but everything was still intact, including and expensive pair of sunglasses that belong to my partner.

I grumbled, woke my partner and vented, then realized that there wasn’t anything that could be done about it, so I just went ahead and drove to the Metro.

It was there that I noticed that my cane was stolen. Who would take a cane? F*$&! I just walked slowly and carefully to the Metro and then to my office from my destination station. It really wasn’t a problem, but I am still very puzzled about what the hell would a thief want with a cane? Perhaps he/sh/it has a need greater than my own?

My partner was peeved that the cane was stolen, as he searched hard to find just the right one for me, and bought it as a gift to aid in my recovery. Now both of his “recovery gifts” — the backpack and the cane — are gone.

It’s my fault for leaving those things in the truck. But at least I didn’t leave anything else of greater value to be ripped off.

I hope the thief rots in hell. Meanwhile, I’ll just park in the garage, leave more lights on, and pray for he/sh/it’s soul.

Update: the thief must have developed a guilty conscious because when I arrived home yesterday afternoon, I found the cane propped up against my garage door. No one saw a thing. Weird….

Life is short: sometimes, it’s not fun, either.

Wet Homecoming

My partner arrived home yesterday after spending several days visiting his mother who lives in Pittsburgh.

I arrived home from yet another physical therapy session for my ankle soon after he did. He looked tired and sore. We had a lot of catching up to do, so I though what could be better than to take a break and go soak in the hot tub. It will help relieve his soreness and will help my ankle feel better, too.

I stripped him and he stripped me, and we carefully got into the tub and turned it on.

The rest is our business, but let’s say that getting reacquainted was FUN (and wet)!

Life is short: show those you love that you love them!

Two-Booted Again!

To heck with what the doctor says, and Mother-Hubbard partner. If the leg is flexing well and doesn’t hurt, and the ankle swelling is down, then two boots will come on.

Funny, someone I know who broke her leg said that her doctor insisted that she wear sneakers for months after her cast came off. She has to wear an “air cast,” which is a supportive device, and it will only fit into a sneaker. Yeah, I was given one of those, too. I use it at work, walking around with one boot on my left foot and the air cast and a sock on my right, rocking back and forth as I walk because it makes my height uneven.

But when I go outdoors, walk to or from the Metro, or to the grocery store, or to visit family and friends, then two boots come on my feet and that’s that. I can’t wear the air cast with a boot. The air cast is too big to fit inside even my largest boots. I definitely will NOT wear sneakers. I don’t own any, and have no intentions of buying a pair just to wear for a few weeks. Plus, I shant sully my booted reputation. (LOL!) So I choose boots that secure my ankle and are big enough to accommodate minor swelling.

I have no pain. Every now and then I feel a twinge of slight discomfort, but no pain like I had been feeling where the leg broke. So I pronounce myself recovered — even if the doc and Mother Hubbard Partner say otherwise. Okay, bop me on the head. Mom always said that I had a hard head. My Nonna always said, “testadura!” (but then she said that to all the male members of the family LOL!)

As a testament, I put on a pair of new motorcycle breeches that I ordered and arrived the week after my leg broke. I couldn’t think of wearing them for a long time. I also put on my Chippewa High Shine engineer boots to show ya: I’M BAAAACKKK! Bwa ha ha! Watch out! Soon I will be back on the Harley!

Life is short: be optimistic (and be booted while you’re at it)!

Living Safely

Every April, I plan and organize an event that I call “Senior Safety Saturday.” That is when dozens of volunteers visit homes occupied by seniors and install safety devices like grab-bars, non-slip flooring, better lighting, and new smoke alarms (when the current alarm is more than 10 years old as alarms don’t last forever, so it is recommended to replace them every ten years.)

I truly feel as if I have 99% recovered from my broken leg. I felt great! Actually, I began the morning by swimming 30 laps. That helped improve the flexibility in my ankle, which is still a little swollen.

I got to our site at 7:30am, and was met by some volunteers who had all of the supplies set up under a big tent. We welcomed the other volunteers and a county official gave them a rousing thank-you. We also thanked our corporate sponsor who funded the supplies that we needed with a $5,000 credit account at a building supplies retailer.

Once all the volunteers checked in, I went to check on some of the more difficult installations. I felt well enough to help out, and even climbed a ladder to install a smoke alarm. I am not quite flexible enough to squat in a bathtub to install a grab-bar. But that’s okay, we had plenty of able-bodied helpers.

I’m so jazzed. I am smiling the hugest smile I have smiled in a long, long time. The weather was great, the event went exceptionally smoothly, and best of all: 53 seniors are safer in their own homes. They can continue to live comfortably, and safely, at home.

What a great day!

Life is short: live it by doing service for others. Believe me, what you pay forward is paid back. I sure saw the benefit of that when I was laid up for such a long time with my broken leg when so many of my senior friends helped me out.