I've always been a reader. I enjoy looking over almost anything, from my daily Bible lesson to anthropological papers offering accounts of early mankind to catalogs from the hardware, tool and music industries and even an occasional novel.

Of those books, only my catalogues are in constant danger of destruction. The little ones cut things apart and the adult knows that which starts off as innocent catalogue browsing often turns into research for future purchases. "Get rid of those before he gets any ideas," she must say to the children while I'm gone. "Here look how fun it is to cut out these air compressors and replace them with stickers of teddy bears."

She's got her own ‘fantasy' books, including those living magazines with fancy decors and recipes and a vitamin book that sells everything from eye of newt to ancient sea salt magnesium. I always think about that Shakespeare scene with the three witches with one eye when I see the names of some of these vitamins. They more closely resemble ingredients of a secret recipe that goes with the incantation, "Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble," than nutritional supplements. I've lived all these years without CoQ10, don't you think I might not need it now?

Oh, my saw palmetto deficiency is blurring my thoughts? I bet a little Saint John's Wort and mandrake root would fix that! So pass me the eye and I'll ride my broom down to the store and buy some!

Well, at least she didn't take up my mother's bad book habits, who likes reading ‘true crime' stories—one of which was about a man who fed his wife's dismembered body through a wood chipper. I saw it in her bathroom one day, just under her Bible. Just to think, after reading about such as that, she sweetly made pancakes as if she had been reading the Good Book. I'm just glad we didn't own a wood chipper at the time, although I would like to have one now. It meets all the criteria of a manly tool: It has a motor, it makes loud noises, it destroys yard waste, it makes useful mulch and it only needs to be used on occasion. In addition, it would have the added benefit of making guests quite nervous when displayed near the house while the aforementioned book is on the back of the toilet. Some people would get more uneasy about discussing the Bible than the wood chipper murders, truth be told.

However, even if I had the money I wouldn't just go and buy a wood chipper. I tend to research any purchase exhaustively before buying anything. Once I actually go to the store, I know what I want, I know the brand I want and I already know how much it costs and where it is located. I can spend a little time looking at the tools in the big hardware stores, but that's only when I actually intend to buy one. As we are all well aware, shopping with certain members of the opposite sex usually doesn't pan out like that. I once took my wife on a shopping trip in which she felt, touched, fingered, tried on and caressed some 40 or 50 dresses, shirts, and pants before walking out of the store empty-handed.

I went to buy her a pair of gloves once and ended up spending three hours in a shopping mall where I finally had to force the issue by saying, " One of these pairs of gloves in this very counter is leaving with us right now. Either you pick or I will." We weren't even married at the time. That was before I learned to ‘divide and conquer.' I go buy the things I need and she goes somewhere else to touch things and look at things and whatever else she wants to do and we meet at a pre-appointed time or place.

If we ever go together, I usually end up pulling my hair out. In case you're wondering, that might be the reason for my receding hairline. Or maybe it's my ginkgo biloba deficiency, but I'm sure we'll have vitamins to fix that by next month. However, I think the entire kitchen cabinet near the sink is full, so maybe I'll have to add a new cabinet just for vitamins. As such, this might give me a valid excuse to buy a table saw. Where are my catalogs?

Women shop like humming birds, spending time sniffing every flower and never taking any of them. I've been told that the problem is that I don't see shopping as an event. For a woman, the act of shopping is actually enjoyable. For a man, such words are impossible to understand. Sometimes my wife does actually buy something. The odd part is that we usually end up buying one of the first things we looked at after she leaves it to look at 20 other things. Why not just shop like an eagle fishes? You just swoop in and grab something and then take it back to the nest. An eagle doesn't pick up 73 fish to see which one feels the best and then go back and catch the first one again. The entire eagle population would die of starvation! It's almost as primal as instinct: If you need it, get it. "Man need shoes. Man find shoes that feel good. Man buy shoes."

Instead of buying shoes for her, we look at all the shoes to see what's on sale, compare brands and prices and discuss the fashion trends, construction, soles, height of heel and other things I don't even remember. Three hours later, you're not looking for shoes, but you might end up looking at pocketbooks, dresses, under-wire brassieres and microwave ovens before leaving the store with nothing. While this may sound good inasmuch as you don't have to spend your entire paycheck, it also means that you'll be back several more times. She'll buy eventually or change her mind altogether.

It isn't all bad, though. She can also beat spider solitaire with four decks while writing an e-mail, talking to her mother, preparing lunch and cleaning the house.

It's because our brains are so different. I once asked for a Tylenol and ended up hearing the life story of some pregnant woman. Later, I found out that we didn't have any Tylenol because when she was shopping she saw someone who was pregnant and forgot to buy it. However, we did have aspirin, which I found myself as the story went on a half hour later. By this time, I had started mumbling. That can get you strange looks or a stay in the looney bin, which may be the very place for you if you're mumbling about aspirin and your strong dislike for a pregnant woman you've never met.

The line between eccentric and truly bonkers has always been a blurry one. The lady who lives in a house with 50 cats is likely near the line, as is the man who looks disheveled and shuffles about mumbling incoherently. Then again, I could be describing a pet breeder and a quite normal fellow with a headache who is upset after asking for a Tylenol. I've found that after mumbling to yourself for a while, you won't be so quick to judge.
 

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