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Honey approached me with a closed fist, not an unusual occurrence in our marriage. (Kidding, kidding).
"Pick one," she said.
She opened her hand to reveal three folded pieces of paper. On the outside of each was written "boy," which told me it was time to pick a name for our immediate family's adult Christmas gift exchange.
Our exchange has a sexist orientation; that is, men buy gifts for men, and women for women. Very un-woke.
I chose one and opened it up. Because who is buying for whom is supposed to be a secret until the gift is opened, I cannot say whose name I got, but I will give you a hint: it rhymes with "horse bag." Sort of. And, he just got married. And, he bought a house.
OK, you guessed it: Worshrag. Shhhh, don't anyone tell him.
WORSHRAG'S NAME was a good one to get because he needs everything. But it was a bad one to get because he doesn't want anything. He's kind of a minimalist.
But it's a good one because a first-time homeowner needs all kinds of tools, and Worshrag, who has lived an apartment life since college, doesn't have many. But it's a bad one because thanks to the miracle of garage sales I have an endless surplus of used tools.
But it's a bad one because a Christmas gift is expected to be something new, and there aren't many nice tools you can buy for $25, which is our exchange gift limit.
I confess I suck at buying gifts, and have mostly been removed from the process by my wife.
In the past, I would see something for one of the grandsons, buy it, wrap it and put it under the tree, proud of myself for choosing a perfect gift.
"Now you've done it!" Honey would exclaim when she discovered my transgression. "All the boys were getting equal amounts. How am I going to even this out?"
Honey has an iron law about equal giving in all things, not just Christmas, and among the five grandsons, as well as our three children. If she can't make gifts very nearly equal in cost, she evens things up with cash.
UNTIL THIS CHRISTMAS, our immediate family adults participated in a second gift exchange after Christmas day dinner at the farmhouse with my two sisters and their husbands, a situation which lent itself to further stress and confusion.
"Any ideas for Seed? I need to buy him something for the farmhouse exchange," I would ask Honey, because I always confide my lottery picks with her.
"No, you have Snickers for our family exchange. I thought you drew Chip for the farmhouse."
"Are you sure? Maybe it was Doc."
I'm not the only one subject to confusion about the gift exchange, which has resulted in someone not getting a gift or getting two.
For such reasons, one family member's suggestion to skip the farmhouse exchange this year was unanimously approved.
A different source of stress around Christmas is that Honey's birthday falls in December, and is often neglected in the hubbub surrounding the holiday.
"Do you have any ideas for what to get your wife for her birthday?" asked Miss T.
"I was hoping you would have an idea for me," I replied.
"I don't need anything," is Honey's standard reply to our gift inquiries.
It looks like her birthday party will be folded into the Christ's again this year. As for her gift, I may have to blame supply chain problems.
The real gift for all of us will be being together for Christmas, to eat and laugh and celebrate, sharing the love of a family.
(Give the gift of Fred Miller for Christmas for $10. His book of 100 stories, "Falling Under Honey's Spell," is available at Connie's Kitchen, Davis Bros. Pharmacies, Frank's Pastry, Giant Eagle Calcutta, Museum of Ceramics, and Pottery City Antique Mall.)