The penultimate day before sartorial shenanigans
My poor tortured wife was in shock when I moved back to Oklahoma and joined the Celtic band. When we met she later confessed to spending an hour on picking out clothes for a date with me saying that she thought a guy who did Harold's ads in the campus paper would be judging her attire too closely.( seriously?? What guy cares). As the outfits became more absurd she had some real problem with the yellow bicycle socks with Scottish Rampart lions worn with my embroidered shamrocks on my sneakers-so naturally I started adding bicycle jerseys and to “tie it all in” I found some neon orange wings—one per shoe😏😎. These pics, most from more than-a dozen years back, represent my mental escape from running a small town bank Trust department. 🤪 please practice a responsible safe St Patrick’s day tomorrow brothers.