The Art of the Pour

Here's the thing about a global pandemic and self-isolating.

Friends are great and food is great and Fielding is great and flowers are great -- oh, the flowers -- and walking is great and cleaning is okay and reading is superiorly great . . .

. . . but do you know what else is supremely great? Drinkie-poos.

I enjoy myself a delicious drinkie-poo at the end of -- okay, at the end of the late afternoon of -- a day in the covid fields.

Why wouldn't I?

Sometimes I have a Mistah to join . . .

. . . that's always my hope . . .

. . .  but it usually begins with drinkie-poo-for-one.

(And it's usually not a margie but hey, it was the weekend. As evinced by my weed wacker wack job.)

But the thing about Mistah?

He crafts his beverages and then he crafts his photos . . .

. . . he's an arteest . . .

. . . See?!

And I am forever grateful.

For Mistah's artistry . . .

  . . . and for this week's incredible purple irises . . .

 . . . and for wine.