My sister joined us for the World Cup final and came over an hour or so early so we could talk before the big game. We had the pre-game show on and most of the commentators were predicting a U.S. would win. I felt like that we’re going to win as well but I was really worried about the game being a blow-out. We had seen so many tight, exciting games recently, I just knew we were overdue for one of these high scoring games. And I knew there would be a huge crowd tuning in, the most to ever watch a soccer game in the U.S., so I wanted it to be be a good game. I found myself hoping Japan would close the gap in this one but the U.S. was unstoppable. I wish Lloyd had played that good when she was with the Flash.
They are pretty relentless with the French in Montreal. They’re only a half hour from New York State, you’d think you’d be able to make a subway transaction in English. I took the language in High School but I never got the hang of all those silent syllables. Spanish makes a lot more sense, more sense than English, with the hard considents and the consistent pronunciations of vowels.
The Spanish restaurant, above, was right across the street from our hotel in Montreal. We stopped in the first night, after the game, and had gambas al ajillo. We sat at the bar chatted with the owner. He was originally from Ligo in Galicia and I think he was also the chef because he kept running back to the kitchen. When we finished our tapas he recommended a drink we had never heard of, “Sol Y Sombre.” Just like the cheap and expensive seats at a bullfight in the sun and the shade. It’s made with Brandy and Anise. We ate here the following night as well.
At the celebration of Fred’s life some painters in our class were asking each other if they had done anything since Fred died. Most had not. That’s not right, of course, with all that he taught us. It may just be a matter of time.
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