Set my alarm this morning so I could meet Jacho at 8:15 to go to our uncle Toti and aunt Marina's for breakfast and watch the Brazil-Holland football match. We were joined there by Toya and Orlando, who had themselves just returned from Sao Paulo.
After the game, I joined Willy at a business lunch at El Cocinero de los Mares. I've written about this restaurant before. Since then, there's been a sort of unofficial family boicott of the place as Willy was treated shabbily there one time, even though he was a loyal customer from the start and brought them a lot of business among his family and contacts. Turns out that he and the chef have made up, and we were greeted with smiles and handshakes.
The food was just as good as I remembered it, and the fruit-flavored (tuna, granadilla) pisco sours were good as well.
After lunch we returned to Toti's to watch Phillipe crawl out of his skin as the possibility of his beloved Uruguay losing to Ghana. When Uruguay won -and what a cheaply-earned sorry-assed win it was- he ran into the street screaming "Uruguay! Uruguay!"at the top of his lungs.
Then it was off on an errand, across town to San Borja to secure the caterer for Sara's wedding.
As I write, I'm at home waiting for the cousins to get off work, and resting up before we determine what to do with a Friday night.
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