Gone Native

Mr. ETB needed a new pair of dress shoes. Instead of coming home with his usual black wingtips, he proudly held up the pair of shiny, black Western boots the teenaged salesperson persuaded him to purchase instead. OK, I can wait a minute for that to sink in. Right. Cowboy boots. Those of you who personally know Mr. ETB should feel free to begin calling him, "Tex."

Mr. ETB is already 6'4". Add to that a nearly two inch heel, and he's really rather imposing-until you notice he's wearing cowboy boots.

"But you don't understand" he informed me, "These aren't riding horses boots, these are really nice boots like you'd wear to Keno on a Saturday night."

He's never played Keno, and hasn't been to a bar on a Saturday night in the last twenty years. I dunno, cowboy boots and a suit is a look, I guess. I just hope he doesn't feel inspired to try his hand at riding an electric bull, should he ever end up in a bar on a Saturday night...at least, not in his good suit.

As my father in law used to say when something was in need of an exclamation, "Doggies!"