My New Website Redesign

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I have had a form of my Bootedman.com website since late 2004, migrated it to its own server and domain in early 2006, and have been adding to it and maintaining it ever since. It’s a great hobby, as it keeps me challenged with new things to learn.

As the site has been growing, changing, and advancing with technology, I decided that the old tables from the HTML from long ago had to go, as today’s website technology uses cascading style sheets (CSS) and Hypertext Preprocessor (PHP) rather than straight-old HTML with code that was built for the earliest versions of web browsers.

I also had some comments that my home page appeared very “busy” with so many image icons leading to interior pages. Some users complained that the icons wouldn’t load, or would cause the site to bog down and stop when viewed.

I also have had other users tell me that they liked its simplicity, so they cautioned making it too fancy with lots of “bells and whistles.” The good thing about CSS and PHP is that it keeps a lot of the messy code away from view, and makes pages load faster and look cleaner. PHP also allows for added security to ward off potential hackers, as well as blocking bozos (you know, the brainless dolts who link to my website from forums where they post inane comments.)

This website redesign process has been ongoing for months. I learned these skills on my own. I really should have taken a class, but I challenged myself to learn how to do it “the hard way.” Sorta analogous learning how to do long division before using a calculator.

I hope you like it. Let me know what you think.

Life is short: refresh now-and-again!


What I Did on My Blog Vacation

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I can talk about it now, … now that the primary elections are over in my home state. Early last week, a candidate for whom I was volunteering went ballistically negative against his opponent by creating a website devoted to tearing his opponent down. I found out about it just about the time it hit the “blogwaves.”

All throughout the campaign, I told the candidate that I detest negative campaigning, and that many of my neighbors feel the same way. His primary political consultant, who doesn’t live in our area, is known for hitting hard, but (IMHO) is out of touch with the feelings of the residents of our area. My candidate’s actions became incredibly mean-spirited and awful, and literally made me lose my lunch. I didn’t sleep the night I found out about it. It hurt me that much… so I had to pull away from the ‘net and reduce exposure to sh*t like that. I resigned from his campaign, and “checked out.”

I put the paper recycling bin next to the mailbox, and instructed our friendly mail carrier to deposit *all* political mail in the box. I didn’t even want to see it. I had already voted (since early voting is finally allowed in our state) so the volume of political mail sent to me after I voted was a waste of trees.

While away from the ‘net, I spent joyful time caring for my beloved aunt. Some days, she just wanted to be held, so that’s what I did… for hours. I also had a chance to play Bocce with the Bocce boys in the retirement community nearby, chattering away in Italian.

My partner had minor oral surgery last Friday, and I made home-made chicken soup which cured him of any residual pain. We spent most of the day last Saturday working on the yard. When you use compost as fertilizer, it takes longer than spreading chemicals from a bag.

I caught up on taxes, with those dreaded estimated taxes due on the 15th for myself, my small business, my aunt, and 14 other senior buds.

I cleaned house, killing more dust bunnies than we have actual bunnies in our forest. I fixed a broken garden wall that suffered the consequences of freeze-and-thaw. Lots of stuff… but I stayed away from politics, and the people who go with it.

Oh, and I accepted an offer for my dream job. Yep, my lay-off is over. I go back to full-time work doing what I love in a couple weeks. The job is conveniently located in my home town, so the commute will be easy. I am anxious to begin a new chapter in my life, doing what I love to do, and for which I have won international recognition.

…and I watched my candidate lose … he shot himself in the foot and deserved what happened as a result. So sad, so very sad.

Great break: now back to blogging.

Life is short: remember the priorities, focus on the positive, and separate yourself from negativity.

Remembering

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Most people remember September 11 as a date in 2001. I remember it as a date in 1998, the day my Mom died. I’ve described it before, here and here. No need to repeat.

Part of my reason for taking a blog break is to remember a great woman who meant the world to me, who nurtured me, who loved me … regardless … and who let me make mistakes and learn from them. She taught me right from wrong, to be civil, caring, and loving. She led by example. She nourished my soul, and supported me as I grew up and became the man I am today.

At first she was bewildered about the fact that I am gay, but was determined to learn more about my sexual orientation and grew to understand… and continue her love. She never gave up on me, though I sure put her through some trials. She grew to love my partner, understanding that he would keep me safe, sane, and supported. That’s all she really wanted for me: to have a good life and to share it with someone I love and who loves me unconditionally.

I sure miss her… lots… today and every day I think, “what would Mom say?” and then use her gentle guidance to lead me in what I do, and to care for those I love. What a treasure it was to have her for the 41 years that I did, and to continue to have her spirit lead me toward my future.

Rest in peace, Mom. I always love you.

By the way, please remember that the date is September 11, 2001, not “nine-eleven.” That media shorthand term always bugs me. end-of-rant.

Blog Break

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Okay, the threatened blog break is now upon us. I described a week or two ago that I was preparing to take a break, and now it’s here.

I’ll get through our primary elections in my home state, and probably during that time, come up with some good bloggetory. Continue to send messages and I’ll find ways to turn it into something interesting (smile.)

Check back next week for another exciting episode of As the Blog Rolls.

Life is short: take a break every now and then.

Boots Look Gay

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Oh cripes, there goes Google again, directing visitors to this blog and my website when they enter phrases such as:

  • All motorcycle boots look gay
  • Is it gay to wear tall boots?
  • Dudes in boots look gay

All this indicates, to me, is that some guys have a lot to learn and have some serious “issues.” I mean, they are obsessed with perceptions. They do not want to be perceived as having anything to do with gay culture, and for some silly reason, they have connected boots with being gay.

Come on, guys, get a life. I know that a colloquial saying, “that’s gay” is a euphemism for a number of things, mostly negative. Straight people don’t want to be associated with “gay” things. But come on! Boots of all things? Sheesh…

There was a discussion on the “Boots on Line” board recently about that issue — how men in tall boots historically were perceived as powerful, commanding authority figures. Then it seemed to change in the ’60s as tall boots were made for women as fashion items. Fewer men wore tall boots, and those who did began to wear shorter boots, like tactical boots. About the only men and authority figures these days who wear tall boots are motor patrol officers, riders of horses (police, polo players, etc.), and palace guards.

Sneakers took over as the choice of personal footwear in relaxed settings, such as at home. The number of brands and varieties of sneakers boomed in the 80s and continues in huge production today. Many guys who wear sneakers like them because they are comfortable. As we age, any form of comfort is appreciated.

But back to the topic… as tall boots became a fashion statement for women, then tall boots became associated with feminine attire. Thus … the common misconception, especially among poorly educated men, that tall boots are “gay.” They associate anything feminine with “gay.”

Oh cripes, guys. There are masculine gay men and there are less masculine gay men. Some gay men wear boots, some do not. But associating the two — boots and being gay — does not make sense. It indicates fear of an association. Revisit your thinking: what do boots have to do with being gay? … nothing. If you believe that wearing boots, especially tall boots, would cause others to believe that you are gay, then really look at how you act and how you behave. It’s more mannerisms and behavior that others make judgments about; not what you have on your feet.

Life is short: wear tall boots (if you’re man enough!)

Don’t Over-Boot It

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Regular readers of this blog know that I only wear boots as my choice of footwear, and I am a stickler for “the right boot for the job” — that is, when I ride my Harley, I insist on good quality, well-fitting, comfortable motorcycle boots, preferably with a big lug sole for best traction.

Yesterday was Labor Day in the United States, a holiday denoting recognizing the contributions of the American worker to society. The day also serves as the unofficial end of summer, as in our area, many outdoor swimming pools close for the season.

I led a motorcycle ride on an absolutely stunning day with spectacular scenery through Maryland’s mountains on designated scenic byways. What a blast! And … I only made one wrong turn, requiring the group turn around … but all were good sports about it.

The day began cool, so I wore a long-sleeved shirt over a t-shirt, blue jeans, and my biker vest. I debated about wearing more leather, such as a pair of chaps, but as I was preparing to leave, it was warming up nicely. It was 72°F (22°C) when I left home, so more leather wasn’t needed. It was 85°F (29°C) by mid-day, so the long-sleeved shirt came off, too.

I debated with myself about what boots to wear on this ride. I first got out my tall, leather-lined Wesco boots, and was pulling them on when I thought, “hmmm, these might get hot.” My partner rolled over in bed, looked at me in the boots and said, “don’t ‘overboot it’.” That’s his expression for what he thinks my biker friends might think about tall Wesco boots worn with jeans tucked in.

I don’t care much about what others think, as I make my safety and comfort top priority. If the day would get as warm as predicted, those Wesco boots would become uncomfortable as the day progressed. So I grabbed my Chippewa Firefighter Boots off the shelf and put them on.

I have raved often that I think Chippewa Firefighter boots are by far the best all-around comfortable boots for motorcycling. Indeed, they proved me correct once again throughout the long, sunny, delightful ride through twisty roads and hills with panoramic vistas.

I wish I could ride and take photos at the same time. Alas, I’m not quite skilled enough to do that. You’ll have to take my word for it that it looked like this: (courtesy of the National Park Service)


Life is short: make the best of each day!

You Are Who You Hang With

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A friend posted a guest blog series about being a straight guy and enjoying leather. In that series, one thing he said is, “you are who you hang with.” This is an American expression, but is descriptive of the idea that the company one keeps strongly influences who he is and how he perceives himself.

I looked around and asked myself, “who do I ‘hang’ with?” Well, generally speaking, I do not socialize much. My life these days is spent with my partner as we go about our daily life, with my 95-year-old aunt for whom I care, with a group of elderly friends who I help out by taking them grocery shopping and doing home repairs for them, with people in my community where I am engaged in various public service activities, and for fun… with my motorcycle riding club. Occasionally, but not very often, I’ll go visit a friend who I grew up with, or befriended in college or from one of my previous jobs.

As I looked around, I got to thinking: who I ‘hang with’ are my life-long friends from school, as well as neighbors who I work with in civic activities. (I have rarely socialized with people with whom I have worked on my day-job.) A few of my friends are gay, but most aren’t. I have very few gay friends. Not by design, but by the choices I have made about what I do and where I go. I do not purposefully choose to seek out other gay men to socialize. I avoid venues where gay guys may gather, like bars. I have no problems with gay bars — I just don’t have any reason to frequent a bar. I don’t drink alcohol, and I have always had problems remaining awake past 9pm.

Am I perceived as resisting being gay? Perhaps by some gay guys who don’t understand that, to me, one chooses his friends based on shared interests. I am genuinely interested in helping others, so the majority of the ‘hanging’ I do is nailing up a picture hook (giggle.)

Shared interests is not the same thing as shared sexual orientation. So I’m gay. So what? It means that I have chosen a man as my mate. But it doesn’t mean that I will change who I choose to serve, to care for, and with whom to enjoy activities like motorcycle riding.

I fail to understand why some gay guys only ‘hang’ with other gay guys. There is much more to life than one’s sexual orientation.

Life is short: hang up the hang-ups!

The Reunion

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Gosh, it’s hard to believe that I graduated high school 35 years ago. In some sense, it seems like yesterday, and in another sense, it seems like forever ago.

I credit three classmates for holding us together, and planning reunions every five years. I credit my classmates for keeping in touch and attending. We had over 200 classmates come to a reunion gathering on Friday night. That’s pretty good attendance for a rather odd-year event (unlike 10, 20, 50…).

All the old “who talked to who” stuff is long since over. I had great conversations with the “jocks” as well as the “nerds” and everyone in between. “Who is who” on high school pecking orders is long since over.

At the ten-year reunion, the talk was about degrees earned, work endeavors (better than others), marriages, and children. At the 25-year reunion, most people had relaxed somewhat, but there were still those who made sure the rest of us knew of their status symbols: the huge mansion with the fleet of BMWs and Lexuses. By the 35th, none of that stuff is important any more. We all are who we are, and the talk with everyone from all groups, levels, etc., was about who we are today and what we’re doing, interested in, etc. Fun stuff, not status stuff.

Unfortunately, the gathering was in a yuppie bar that was loud. I got hoarse from making myself heard. And I stayed up waaaay too late — past 10pm. When I got home I was exhausted. My partner didn’t come with me as he hates social events, but he was happy that I was happy.

My high school friends know that I am in a committed, monogamous same-sex relationship. They don’t care about that. They remain concerned about me as a person, and were interested in the things I’m doing in the community.

What did I wear? My side-laced leather jeans, a short-sleeved (regular) shirt, and my Chippewa hi-shine boots with lug soles. Why those boots? Well, I rode my Harley to the event, of course!

Had a great time, but I really dragged ass all day Saturday. I just can’t handle staying up after my usual 8:30pm bedtime. Oh well, I made up for it by going to bed really early on Saturday night.

Life is short: enjoy the memories!

Booted Best

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I was interviewed this week for a job. Really, a career, as this new job is well within my scope of my life’s work. I think I nailed it, and was pleased they took 2-1/2 hours to ask many questions. This was the final interview, since I went through two other preliminary interviews by phone and was included on the “short list” presented to the employer.

I was dressed in my best clothes — new jacket, tie, dress shirt, and dress slacks that my partner got for me. He always dresses me well, as ordinarily I’m a t-shirt-n-jeans kinda guy (in hot weather; otherwise, leather is my preference.)

I really debated about what boots to wear to this interview. (Remember, I do not own nor would I ever wear dress shoes. YUCK!) Would I ride my Harley to the location, and thus require motorcycle boots? Or would I drive my truck, and choose dress cowboy boots instead?

I let the weather decide. If it is hotter than 90°F (32°C), then I won’t ride my Harley, because I sweat so much that my clothes would be stinkin’ wet when I arrived. That’s really not much of a problem if I’m just out riding, but it sure would not be a good thing to have happen for an important job interview. You don’t want to show up with dark wet stains across your shirt and crotch, caused by sweat due to the physical heat of the sun and the heat of the Harley’s engine.

In this case, it was 95°F (35°C) at the time of the interview. That’s way too hot to ride a Harley in dress clothes without potentially sweating them to death. Plus, my best-looking motorcycle boots are Dehner Patrol Boots. They fit well, but do not allow much breathing room on my legs, so I would even sweat more in the hot sun.

I put on my Lucchese lizard wingtip cowboy boots, which looked great with that outfit. I even turned the AC on in my truck, which is a rarity, so I arrived looking fine, without any sweat stains. The only problem if there were one with the cowboy boots that I chose to wear is that they have a steel shank. That set off the alarm at the magnetometer at the entrance to the building where the interview took place. Just like at an airport, I had to take my boots off and run them through the metal detector. The guard, though, admired the boots and asked me where he could get a pair.

After the interview, I was invited to go with the head guy to a coffee shop across the street so he could give me some more information. I went along, but was aghast that this overly-yuppified place didn’t have anything I could drink, since I don’t drink coffee or tea. I swear, a zillion forms of coffee, but nothing else. I finally got them to give me a cup of tap water. (They thought I was nuts.)

I glanced around at all the yuppies sitting there with their laptops and other wireless devices, and did the best to hide a cringe on my face from the guy who will become my new boss. I just don’t like places like that. Yuck. I really have to examine in a separate blog post sometime just what it is about yuppie gathering spots that make me feel uncomfortable. I mean, I was already out of my comfort zone having to wear a monkey suit.

Oh well, I’ll know soon enough about the job. Meanwhile, I’m back in to beat-up old engineer boots, jeans, and t-shirts again. Enjoying them for daily wear while I can.

Life is short: wear your booted best!

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