DEAR MISS MANNERS: My husband and I decided to forego a larger wedding next year for an intimate, immediate family-only wedding this past June. We were both in school at the time, and now he is in the military.

We live in a small apartment and knew that we were going to have to move frequently within the next few years, so we did not register nor ask for any wedding presents. However, last week we received an extravagant gift from my husband's childhood neighbors of a set of expensive porcelain dishes.

The more I think about it, the more angry I become about this gift. I was hoping that my husband and I would be able to pick out our own china pattern, which I believe is a very personal choice. Also we are going to be moving around and don't even have a need for something like this until we are more settled and have a permanent home location.

What do I do about this gift that I didn't want, ask or register for?

GENTLE READER: Have a tantrum about it. How dare those people give you a lavish present not of your own choosing?

Now pull yourself together, please. What would you do if you had a real problem? Miss Manners will tell you exactly what you must do:

1. Write a lavish letter of thanks, as if you were grateful, which indeed you should be, and skip the parts about your dissatisfaction and indignation.

2. Return, sell, or donate the china, or give it to someone whom it will not infuriate.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: At Christmas dinner last year, my very best friend was very upset with me and still is because her husband had a nice sweater on, when all other males at the table had a suit on. The next day she confronted me. I explained to her that because it was a Christmas dinner I assumed that her husband would automatically dress up; I also told her that her husband was quite perfect with his sweater. Since that day things are not the same between us. Was I wrong for not informing her about the dress code in advance?

GENTLE READER: Oh, you might have said something if this is the one dinner a year for which the gentlemen wore suits. But have you thought to point out that since you did not issue any instructions, you had no way of knowing that the other gentlemen would show up in suits?

It would be more tactful than the remark that the husband should automatically have dressed properly, given the fact that he did not, however fetching you declared him to look.

Miss Manners has an idea that that might be what galls your friends. Otherwise, she cannot see that you have committed a social crime worth a year's grudge. You cannot tell your friend to tell her husband to grow up, but you can apologize for the confusion and assure her that you will issue dress warnings with future invitations.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: Our father just passed away a couple of months ago. Now that Christmas is coming, we'll be sending our mother cards. One sister wants to address the card to both our parents, but I don't think that's right. What is the correct way without hurting our mother's feelings and not forgetting our father?

GENTLE READER: Your sister wants to spare your mother's feelings by allowing her to believe that you have all forgotten that your father can't receive mail because he is dead?

Miss Manners agrees that this is a really bad idea. But so is lobbing an ordinary Merry Christmas at a new widow. Surely you want to go beyond sparing your mother to comforting her. If you and your sisters cannot be with her at Christmas, you should each be writing her letters expressing how much you feel for her on this occasion and how much you miss your father.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: We have two large (40-50 guests) casual parties at the same time each year and have done so for over five years, so invitees know that these events are coming up and many plan around them. May I remove from the guest list those people who we have invited, but do not show up or are invited repeatedly but either do not respond or can never attend? Also, at one most recent party, one of the adult guests embarrassed another guest deliberately and repeatedly. Is there any reason that I should not also remove the offender from our guests list? Thank you for your insight into these situations!

GENTLE READER: If there is any reason that you should invite anyone to your parties who does not contribute to your and your other guests' enjoyment, Miss Manners cannot imagine what it could be. Apparently neither can the guests in question, as they either fail to show up or turn querulous.

The trouble with annual parties is that guests begin to think of them as some sort of free club to which they belong in perpetuity. But there is no reason for hosts to surrender to this notion. The guest list is yours to compose each time you give a party.

The uninvited have no right to complain, but we know that the rude ones -- the same people who ignore your invitations or behave badly to others -- will. The smoothest rejoinder is to undermine their belief that this is a regular event from which they were dropped.

"Oh, we gave a somewhat different party this year," you could say without further explanation. And indeed, it will be somewhat different if you eliminate the undesirables.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I may be longwinded when I talk, but under every circumstance -- family, at work, socially, or in business -- I get interrupted constantly! I rarely get to finish a sentence! I know we're all busy and want to get our two cents worth in. I myself try to catch myself doing it and stop myself. Why do we do this! It bothers me no end!

GENTLE READER: Why do we do this? Because we are so much more interesting than other people that we would rather listen to ourselves than to them.

But Miss Manners has never subscribed to the notion that identifying a psychological impulse excuses succumbing to it. You are right to catch yourself, and she hopes that you do so effectively enough that those who interrupt you are not acting out of desperation to get in any word at all.

The way to deal with interrupters is to let them interrupt. That is, you stop talking at all, not even putting in the little encouraging murmurings of polite listening, until they notice that there is no longer a conversation going on. Their dumbfounded look will be the signal for you to resume where you left off.

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