Opinion

The subject came up spontaneously at a recent meeting of the New Mexico Cowboy Curmudgeon Coalition, where our motto is: “If we actually existed, would anyone really care?” It came about because of the time of year and the spirit of Christmas, and was encouraged by other spirits, of a more … well … bottled variety.

The children were in the pew in front of me. We had not arrived early enough at my sister’s church for the Christmas Eve service to secure a seat in the back, so we were in the fourth row. The first row is never used by anyone; the second row is only for people who arrive impossibly late. The third row is, for all intents and purposes, the front row, and that’s where these two wild-looking children were.

When one of our neighbors is sly enough, or funny enough, or even … cruel enough to pull one over on the whole neighborhood, that’s something that should deserve a yee-haw or a “get ‘em sis!”

My Facebook feed reminded me that, exactly 12 years ago, I was considering buying palazzo pants. I found this astonishing because just that day I had been looking at palazzo pants, and I had not mentioned it to Facebook — or anyone else, except my husband, Peter.