Last night we went to the 53rd birthday of a good friend of ours, Ronaldo. The party was at his daughter's house. Sweet little place in São Gonçalo. I always enjoy our getting together. Our friends are bold, happy, speak their mind, always bring their kids, and don’t skimp on food or beverage.
It continues to elude me, however – how do you party for 9 hours? I get exhausted half way through and need a nap. But then I come back with a vengeance, taking out the most energetic among us. (But I am cheating, I know.) My second wind is a killer.
As usual, long after midnight Victor broke out his guitar and got the so-inclined guests singing old standards. I was enlisted to provide actual grammatically correct lyrics for the Beatles standards. Everyone had well polished phonetic versions, but none were actually the lyrics. That was my job. We gave new life to some very well-worn songs.
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