He really is, I promise!

I get flak from time to time about calling my husband the World's Cheapest Man. I have to say, though, in my defense, that he goes out of his way to prove it to everyone.

For example, last night I was at a "Southern Living at Home" party, thrown by my friend Samantha. Lots of lovely housewares were on display, nibbles were appetizingly arranged, and the alcohol free-flowing. This was, I suppose, to soften you up for the "Southern Living at Home" sales pitch, causing you to fling caution to the wind and buy, BUY, BUY! while in that cozy alcoholic stupor.

For those of you who don't know this already, Southern Living is a magazine for housewives featuring lovely housewares and delectable comestibles, all beautifully choreographed and photographed, printed on glossy paper. My mother is a devotee. (This is the woman who's never lived further South than Maryland, mind you.)

Anyhoo, while I was at this party, working on my second enormous Cosmopolitan, my friend Hube called me to see if I was coming out with him and my other former co-workers to a local bar. He said he'd called my house first, but my dear husband, the WCM had informed him that:

"She's at some party that's going to cost us money."

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, he is indeed, the World's Cheapest Man.

And, incidentally, I bought a lovely wrought-iron cookbook holder for $34.95, plus shipping & handling.

Spiteful, yes.