DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am 23 and about to move in with my boyfriend, "Greg." My mother, with whom I am close, likes Greg very much. The problem? Greg smokes cigarettes -- as I have, but do not any longer. Mom is vehemently opposed to smoking, which is understandable and her right. She is now threatening to write Greg and inform him that if he doesn't quit immediately, she "can't approve" of our plans to cohabitate -- and my mother's disapproval, even the threat thereof, is a sharp and icy thing indeed.

I understand that she is worried about secondhand smoke (Greg does not smoke in the house) and about me taking up the habit again (I have no interest whatsoever in doing so). However, I maintain that it is presumptuous and rude for an unrelated individual to tell a grown man what he can and can't do in his own home (or on his own front porch, as is the case here). Mom says that "when it comes to deadly addictions, manners don't apply."

I do not object to Mom's opinions. I do object to her horning in and bullying my beloved. What does Miss Manners think?

GENTLE READER: Oh, Miss Manners is only thinking how little the world changes. The same scene could have taken place 50 years ago, except that your mother would not have dared criticize an adult's smoking, and would have instead poured that emotion into the issue of cohabitation.

Whatever upsets her, she should not be invoking that clause about suspending manners in an emergency, which only applies to immediate emergencies. For example, if Greg were to set the house on fire, she could override the rule against shouting orders and scream, "Get out!"

But Miss Manners notices that you are overlooking another clause that does apply, which is that a mother may voice her worries about a child of any age.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: It is your 19th birthday, and your boyfriend of one month is taking you out for dinner. When the check comes, he pays in cash. As you glance in the direction of the tray with the bill, you see that he has mistakenly put in too little money.

Do you point out the mistake, although you are not supposed to be peeking at the bill, or let the waiter do it?

I kept silent, but I can't help wondering if there was a way of subtly indicating the problem that would have saved him from the situation of the waiter returning and asking for the rest of his payment while preserving my facade of innocence.

GENTLE READER: If you are not paying the bill, Miss Manners is afraid that you will have to trust the young gentleman to do it. And you will have to trust the waiter to say, "Excuse me, sir, would you check that total again, please?"

Anyone can make a mistake. But not everyone wants to go around with someone who is looking over his shoulder to catch him at it.

:

On today's menus, the choice is between being a pig or a monster.

In some kinds of restaurants, the menu offers you heaping platters of jumbo-sized items, juicy, aromatic and smothered or swimming in creamy or crispy or crunchy additions. In another sort, it invites you to devour the helpless, apparently plucked before its time, as everything is described as being baby, tiny, petit or miniature.

Naturally, it is these downsized versions that are considered upscale. But holding the adjectives does not seem to be a choice in any establishment.

Miss Manners realizes that commercial menus are intended as advertising, a literary form not generally characterized by restraint. Therefore, the question of taste in the etiquette sense, as opposed to taste in the sense of revving up the appetite (beyond what it must already be to have delivered itself to a restaurant), might not apply.

However, there are restaurants that do wish to appear tasteful in both senses, harking back to the time when their predecessors strived to approximate grand-scale private service. These are the ones that refer to themselves as "elegant," which is their first mistake. "Elegant," used in regard to just about anything except mathematical solutions, is a tip-off to persnickety people that something is the opposite of what it pretends to be.

"Entree" is another unfortunate menu word. Taken from the stupifyingly long list of courses put before our hardier predecessors, it is not the main course, but the course before the main course. The typical true entree is sweetbreads, or perhaps eels, which may not be what today's diners have in mind.

It would be a good idea to skip the temptation to gussy up menus with high-school French, other than terms that have passed into the international culinary vocabulary (such as hors d'oeuvre, unfortunately not always presented with its correct spelling). French restaurants would be granted an exception if American establishments abroad were accorded equal respect.

British-isms are also dangerous. Many a highfalutin establishment now offers "high tea," in ignorance of the fact that the term refers to nursery supper, while the afternoon event with dainty sandwiches and scones is merely called "tea."

There are even some perfectly good words from American English that are unsafe in the hands of menu writers. "Fresh," in regard to orange juice, no longer means that it comes directly from the orange; now it is "freshly squeezed," and even that is suspect. Besides, a menu on which some items are labeled "fresh" suggests that the others are not.

Miss Manners is concerned because, as the households that are needed in order to put on formal dinners have become rare, restaurant service has come to be considered the highest surviving standard. Oddly, even the compromises that restaurants must make because their clients, unlike guests, make their own choices from the menu -- and it is not seemly to leave hungry people to chew on their napkins while dinner is being cooked-- are thought to be correct. These include supplying bread and butter, although these are not part of a correct formal dinner, and serving the salad course before the main course.

However, she sees no necessity to bring kitchen jargon to the table.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Before baseball season starts, could you please answer a question for me. I was taught many years ago that one does not applaud the singing or playing of our national anthem, but instead treats it with reverence as one would a hymn. Am I correct?

GENTLE READER: Yes, but try and explain that to people who recognize no greater authority than entertainment, and therefore know of no higher show of reverence than applause.

:

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My husband, son and I visited my sister and her husband, who have a home in Florida. After all three of use had taken our showers, I asked my sister what to do with the towels we used.

She told me to hang them up to dry and reuse them.

Well, I was shocked that she told me this and wasn't sure who used what towel. But I did as she requested.

We stayed two days as we planned. On our last day she asked me to strip the beds and put the sheets in the washer.

I felt that was poor hospitality. Do you agree?

GENTLE READER: Did you and your sister grow up in a household where the sheets and towels were changed daily, and perhaps twice if anyone took an afternoon nap or bath?

If so, Miss Manners has bad news for you: The rest of the world does not live like that, and this now includes your sister. Unless there is an ample staff in evidence, good houseguests make their beds every day and strip them before they depart, leaving the linens in a neat pile and neatly covering the bed with its spread.

And here is a tip for remembering which towel is whose: They come in different colors.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: A relative is having a significant birthday soon, and we are planning a large family gathering. At first, she said "no presents," and that was fine. We agreed amongst ourselves that we would be pleased to pool our large and small donations and give a gift in her honor to one of her usual charities.

But then, the plans changed. Now we will all go out to dinner together, and then reassemble afterward at home for an auction of items collected by the Birthday Honoree, with the proceeds to be given to her charity.

This feels uncomfortable. One problem is that there is a large group of grandchildren who are in college, graduate school or their first jobs. This plan puts unnecessary pressure on them to bid "adequate" amounts of money in front of the whole family.

We have expressed our concerns, but they were overridden: the Auction will go on. Other adults would be pleased to simply make a donation to this new charity, without having to bid on items that we're not sure we need. But the Birthday Honoree feels this will be an interesting activity for everyone.

Is there any way that we can honestly and tactfully avoid this embarrassment? (We thought of eating very slowly at the restaurant and taking a looonnng time there so we wouldn't have to go home!)

GENTLE READER: Is there any way Miss Manners can make people stop thinking up schemes for turning their personal occasions into fund-raisers? And from believing that doing it for charity whitewashes the fact that their largesse comes from someone else's money?

Not in time to save you, it seems.

As the plan of dawdling at dinner is not quite nice, Miss Manners will suggest another. It is only a little nicer, as it does involve pulling a fast one on your relative, but it accomplishes her wishes of playing this game and donating to charity without embarrassing individuals.

Before the auction, several of the older relatives should declare that they have a surprise: Knowing how unreliable auction returns can be, you are giving her a secure check first, representing everyone's contributions, and have brought play money with which to enjoy the fun she has planned. (You may be assured that it will, indeed, be more fun if people can get into a competitive spirit without having to pay for it.)

: