This evening, while sipping a beer at the 17th St. Public House, I began this drawing. Even though I was half-way through that tasty brew, I added a foamy head on top.
Now, as I post this from home, I’m reminded of a story that always makes me chuckle. Many years ago and in a country south of the equator a small group of us guys would gather at a little bar at the end of the day to blow off steam and just be in our twenties. The short, elderly woman who ran the joint and spoke English as a foreign language would always greet us at our table with a big smile and a wide tray loaded with bottled beer and glasses. As she poured the beer into our glasses, she’d asked each one of us – face to face – if we wanted our beer with head.
We always said yes. We laughed alright, but never in her face.