New Mexico Confidential

Circa 1977, before making a journey to Colorado, our family took a side trip to Albuquerque, New Mexico. The Royal Father had to meet with a certain relative about a certain business arrangement, which I can't discuss on this blog. At five years old, I wouldn't have been in on the conversation, anyway. Certain Relative made shish kabobs for the adults, presumably while they talked business. What did the kids do? I remember hanging out with Certain Relative's kids, whom I didn't know from my elbow, one of whom fashioned a mustache out of paper and called himself "Mr. Spock."

I had another diversion: getting kinda-sorta invited down the street to a dog's birthday party. Yes, a birthday party for a canine. We didn't have cake, but somebody decided to put together this huge bowl of dog food with a tiny Milk-Bone dog biscuit on top. Perhaps this was also to get your wee servant out of the room while the Royal Father talked business with Certain Relative. From what I was told years later, the talk didn't go well. Not that it mattered to the Royal Father or the Queen Mother (who didn't care for Certain Relative and still does not).

Two days at their house during the day preceded another day back at the Howard Johnson's where Certain Relative's kids and your servant went swimming. And that was that. We got on with the rest of our vacation, and maybe a few people learned lessons along the way about life and business.

My lesson: Don't pick up a cat by the tail.