Yes, the tile guys worked on Sunday - for about eight hours straight - swearing about the uneven floor, some less-than-square corners and la vida in general. I fed them lots of ice water and bad jokes which seemed to keep them working fine. They return tomorrow for another run at it and will likely be here for most of the coming week.
I better get more water.
Lucky the dog, after getting his dosing of medicine and his shot, felt good enough that he dug his way out of the compound twice, one being returned by our amigo Julian, the second time by Chena from across the street.
Tomorrow, my first job is to brace the streetside fence against escapes. We will introduce him into society this week, but under controlled conditions.
Playa Grande in Arroyo Seco
But in between home chores, I toured the beaches several times (driving the Admiral's Honda quad, of course) and was impressed with the huge surf and the diminishing number of vacationers and surfers. The swimming hole we visited a few days ago no longer looks quite so safe and most of the surfers had packed it in by noontime, the break of the waves being too steep even for experienced riders.
The highlight of the day, however, was dinner across the street at Chena's Restaurant, a home-operated taco stand that involves Chena, her husband Chon and son Dani. I started with three chorizo tacos and had eaten two more before I finally called out 'no mas,' just like Roberto Duran.
She runs the shoppe Friday and Saturday nights and it was hopping for about three hours with carne asada, pollo, and chorizo tacos going out the door as fast as any McDonald's pumps burgers.
I only wish she was open seven nights a week. Then we would never have to cook.
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