Another phone call to my mother.

I asked my mother how Jerry tortures her about my lack of gift each Christmas.

"He waits until you leave," she said. "Then, he starts looking around the room, under the tree. Then he looks at me and asks, 'Did he get me anything?'"

She always says that she doesn't think so.

"He didn't hand me anything," Jerry says, continuing to look around the room.

And he pouts, apparently. He gets a look on his face.

"I don't think he got me anything," Jerry says.

I asked my mother if he was that dense.

She said no one expects an apology from anyone.

I told her that the whole thing struck me as a big, giant lie. Buying gifts for people that you don't like.

She told me to consider it as a gift to her, buying her some peace this year.

I told her I was tired of the whole "Christmas Is Ruined!" schtick. She said that, whatever I decided to do about Jerry's gift, she'd cope with the consequences, but that she'd appreciate it if I just let this minor act-of-grievance, justified though it may be, slide.

But I'm tired of doing things I don't want to do just to make Jerry shut up.

In writing my cousin for advice on the matter, I referred to all this as "Christmas negotiations."

I feel like I'm trying to map out peace in the Middle East. Like my mom and I are attempting to achieve the "Stepfather Gift Accord of 2003."

Apparently, today is her 16th wedding anniversary.