Howdy,

Recently, a couple of nights ago, Sarah and I had an event to attend that called for a bit more than swim-to-street hybrid shorts and flip flops. (Wait, let me stop to think if anyone at the dinner was wearing shorts before I set the standard … No, no the shorts were worn during the day during the family, gather-at-the-park segment of the reunion day. It’s Turlock, and it’s hot, the Central Valley in the summer: no shame in shorts. That’s how we survive. That’s how we live.)

But that’s the point: that’s how we live, in shorts and flip flops around here, especially if you’re a stay-at-home day—or at least I have that on good authority.

So we had an evening on which we had a choice for how to dress for the occasion, and I told Sarah I was planning to wear “my good jeans.”

Jeans.

Jeans and flip flops.

No shorts, but still flip flops. (Looks good with the sleeve-rolled button down: “double-roll,” as my friend used to emphasize very emphatically; it’s the contagious way he lives life, which I like.)

Anyway, the point being jeans. Hey, it’s Turlock, and it’s hot, and jeans seem like compromise, sacrifice, stepping-it-up enough. Besides, my wonderful wife Sarah was fine with that. (Had the same plan herself, in fact. And hers had holes in them! [Fashionable holes, but still holes!] And I thought she looked great!)

So I told her I was wearing jeans, saying I was going the Steve Jobs route early, able to wear whatever I want wherever I want whenever I want because I can because I’ve made it—except doing it before I’ve made it. That kind of thing. And for the late Steve Jobs that was jeans.

I said I’m Steve Jobs without the gigantic, innovative, wildly-successful company, that I was Steve Jobs without the business.

I don’t think she was talking specifically about me, but Sarah insightfully said, “Without the business, you’re just Steve.” (No offense to my good friend Steve or any other Steves out there.)

I reflected on that and figured it a step further in my case. As a stay-at-home dad, I’m just a Steve without a job.

Or maybe I have three jobs.

At least. Or, if not, at least three bosses: Jasper. Titus. Riah.

And they can be cranky, but they don’t care how I dress; in their eyes, I believe I’ve already made it.

 

Billy

Reading. Writing. Living.

 

P.S. After having written most of the draft for this post, I dressed up as a “dive instructor” in a wetsuit with mask and snorkel for a portion of the first day of Vacation Bible School at our church, to serve as a “human teaching prop” for me wife who was teaching the lesson. She said the kids would love it: and I suspect she was right. I’m sure I was looking pretty good. Did I mention it was hot in Turlock? I was sweating like a pig in that wetsuit getup. I had the booties on and everything. I mention this about the diving instructor costume for two reasons: 1) VBS is all week, so if you’re in Turlock (or the surrounding area) with kids grades 1-6, bring them to Walnut Elementary where The Rock Church of Turlock is hosting VBS from 5:45 to 8:15, and 2) my friend Mike said I looked like: Scuba Steve. Steve? What can I say, I didn’t plan it that way?

Word Count: 156,781 / On Pace: 158,400 / Year’s Goal: 200,000


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