Earning It

One doesn't get to just walk up to a dive bar and start enjoying Guinnesses, you know. One doesn't just get to start drinking out of the blue. No, one has to earn it.

Years and years ago my cousin Bobby told me a story about visiting his sister Patti and her wee kids, while Mikey T was at work. He announced "I've got ice cream!" Patti immediately shooshed him and said, "Don't just give it to them! Make them go outside and play on the swingset for an hour first!"

So that's what we did in P-Town, in honor of Patti, and her wee kids, and her ice-cream-bearing brother. We earned our beers.

We earned our beers by taking a walk in the rain . . .

. . . actually, the rain stopped, and Provincetown showed us her Sunday morning beauty.

Sunday Morning Coming Down indeed.

We didn't care; we were just happy to be out and about . . .

. . . and to look at the scenery . . .

One is always happy when one's Mistah is around with his camera . . .

. . . making everything look magical . . .

But back to earning our beers . . .

. . . a walk on the beach in Provincetown in October is thirsty work, people . . .

. . . just ask Mistah . . .

, , , see how thirsty he looks?

Thirsty Man.

Obligatory.

Everything was dreamy and out-of-season and lonely-looking . . .

. . . and we could not get enough of the washed-out old wharf pilings . . .

. . . or Provincetown's mighty Pilgrim Monument, the tallest all-granite structure in the United States, which Mistah mysteriously kept calling "The Obelisk."

Allrighty then.

We've earned ourselves a beer.