Foot in mouth disease doesn’t help gifting issue

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Several years ago we thought I had solved all my gifting problems with the Betterhalf.
Instead of getting the wrong size gift clothing or unwanted gift items, I came up with a solution that made us both happy. She could shop -- unaccompanied by me -- for her own gifts for her birthday, Mother’s Day, and other special days. Of course, there were exceptions for some Christmas gifts under the tree when a special item for the home was her wish, or a dinner out for an anniversary celebration.
Over the years her lone shopping without a male tagalong went pretty smoothly most of the time. The Betterhalf doesn’t get too flamboyant in her shopping and if she had any feeling of guilt she managed to come home telling me, “Here’s a pair of socks I bought for you . . . so throw some of those holey ones in your sock drawer away.”
I have mentioned that at the beginning of this tale I thought I had solved all my gift problems and was completely comfortable with our gifting arrangement. Well, there have been a few miscommunications and I’ve managed to put my foot in my mouth.
Just a few weeks ago when we heading to our Sunday church service the Betterhalf met me in her Sunday attire in the entryway of our house. I glanced down and noticed she was wearing a pair of red-checked semi-high heeled shoes that I had never seen.
Oops, I laughed and asked, “Where did you get those shoes?  She told me she bought them on my earlier Mother’s Day gift shopping spree that I gave her and the shoes had been back ordered and she just got them. Unfortunately I didn’t leave well enough alone and mumbled: “They look like a pair of red checkered napkins that should have been on a red checkered tablecloth instead of your feet!” The drive to church was rather quiet.
Little did I know she was to get even with me. After the church service and we were about to leave, TWO women approached her. With me standing next to her they asked, “Where did you get those cute shoes . . . they really look great!”
As for me, I took one look at her beaming face and headed to our parked car. The Betterhalf was still giggling when she approached our auto and continued her giggles all the way home.
RL Furse  is publisher emeritus of the News-Register

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