I was working on something relatively boring today which involved tweaking the javascript that provides dynamic content for about a billion pages in our high fidelity prototype. It wasn’t boring at first because I was actually doing a bit of lightweight programming and I like to program computers. (Especially debugging: stay calm, put write statements everywhere, comment things out, yada yada.) My work got boring when I had to QA the billion pages I had updated / created. I am good at QA work, although it isn’t my job, but I am not good at QA-ing my *own* work. Is anyone? But the point is that doing that kind of busy work often frees my brain to wander around and (EUREKA!) solve other problems. If I am not under a time crunch or getting interrupted every five minutes and that wasn’t happening today so I got a lot of busy work done and some creative work too.

I wore a dress to work today. I almost always do. Or more often a skirt. Even on casual Fridays. Even on summer casual days. You know, think baggy old guys (like me and sometimes, uh, larger) wearing cargo shorts (is that the right word?) to work. I am sorry but I don’t go there. I choose *extremely* comfortable biz-caz stuff. If it doesn’t fit right or look right or I am generally tugging at it the whole day, I ruthlessly put it in the free box. I have tried pants but they are usually too long for me. I AM NOT SHORT but I DO NOT WEAR HIGH HEELS! So why not wear skirts if that’s what I’m the most comfortable in?

I do own pants. They are raggedy old black cotton / spandex leggings (that my kids hate). In fact, I realized about five minutes outta the Planet Ann Arbor last weekend that the pants I was wearing had a HUUUUUGE split in the seam up at the top of my left thigh. Yikes! It’ll be cold up there this weekend, I will need these pants. I knew I hadn’t packed a second pair. I knew I would not be able to buy a comparable pair up there. After a couple of days of schlepping around town with some inner thigh showing (!), I fixed that problem with a needle and thread in the moomincabin bathroom. Sigh.

When the beach urchins were babies, I dressed them up in all kinds of cute frilly ruffly PINK (or whatever) dresses and skirts and things. And I also dressed them in Oshkosh-by-gosh overalls, the regular blue denim kind (or not), sometimes with hand-me-down shirts from their boy cousins. They grew up wearing pants and skirts and sometimes skirts with pants underneath them, which I thought was really smart, given that some not particularly well socialized boyz at the school playground would *look* at people’s panties if they were hanging upside down on the monkey bars. I armed my kids against that. If you want to wear a dress or skirt, wear shorts under it.

Skirt or pants? Who the heck cares? There’s no reason a male person cannot wear a dress or skirt. At a wedding I recently attended, the bride’s dad wore a kilt. Some of my Scottish ancestors probably wore those too. What are you comfortable wearing? Whoever you are, wear whatever the hell you want to.

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