I can't believe Christmas is only a few days away. It seems like only yesterday I was walking down the beach with my trusted old dilapidated chair hung from my back, looking forward to the warm ocean breezes that makes our community so wonderful to live in. But, here I am, driving to one of the most evil places on Earth to get my Christmas shopping done - the mall - and reminiscing about some of the disastrous presents I have bought for my wife over the past four decades.

When we were first married I attempted to buy her clothes. This seemed like an easy thing to do because I had known her for many years before we got married, and since I thought I knew what she wore and what colors she liked, I thought this would be an easy task. I was wrong.

At the time, the big thing to do if one was going to be fashionably correct was to have one's colors done. My wife, being up with the times, was told she was an autumn. As to what this means is far beyond my comprehension of anything fashionable, so I proceeded to buy her sweaters and tops in what I later found out to be spring colors. Needless to say this was the last time I attempted to buy anything I thought my wife would wear.

Another year I attempted to buy her some perfume. Walking into Filene's is always an adventure for me. One year I had a difficult time finding my way out because of all the displayed merchandise and false glass walls that were meant to force people into buying something in order to find an employee who could show them out. After finding the perfume department, I was greeted by a very scary looking sales clerk who belonged behind the desk of some motor vehicle department instead of in a retail store. She looked me up and down and decided I was not worth her time. I was then given to a young woman who immediately took me to a display of toilet water. As to why anyone would want to buy something with the name "toilet water" is above and beyond my comprehension.

I told the young clerk I was looking for perfume. She had a shocked look on her face because she couldn't believe anyone who looked as gruffy as I normally look would have the money to buy perfume. I then understood why the older clerk pushed me off to the younger one. Both of the clerks work on a commission basis.

After losing my sense of smell because of all the scents I was told I had to suffer through, I purchased the perfume that came in the most elaborate bottle. I later found out from my wife that the fancier the bottle, the smellier the perfume. Once again, the Christmas present for my wife was relegated to be added to the pile of things to be returned.

Since I was a total failure at finding a gift my wife would wear or put on to smell good, I then decided to purchase different "feminine" items. I looked for the most technologically functional machine my wife could use in order to stay as beautiful as I always knew she was. The one thing I bought my wife was a hair puller that looked like the strainer most bartenders use in order to keep the ice from falling into the perfect martini. The clerk told me it was the newest and most sought-after tool on the market, because women would no longer have to use shaving cream on their legs in order to remove the hair that all mammals are supposed to have. The only thing the clerk did not tell me was this newest marvel of technology also removed the outer layer of skin. Off to the return pile it went.

Another year I was drawn to a display of massagers that were placed in the middle of the mall. This seemed like a great present for my wife because I didn't have to get lost in one of the stores or make a total fool of myself when a clerk dared to ask me if they could help. I was so far beyond help I usually just smiled, looked pathetic, and kept on walking aimlessly in a place I was not meant to be.

I decided to pick the biggest one because in my Y-chromosome world, bigger is always better. I also picked the white one because white represented everything clean. By the way, I rarely wear white. The thing looked like a type of hammer most construction workers rarely kept on their tool belt because it was too big. It came with a variety of attachments. As to what the attachments were for was far and beyond any information I needed, so I just bought the thing, had it wrapped, and out of the mall I ran.

On that Christmas morning my wife opened up her gift only to ask me what the hell it was. I told her it was a massager that was supposed to make anyone and everyone relax and feel good. She looked at me with tears in her eyes, and asked if I thought she was boring. To this day I don't have a clue as to what that meant, but I did realize I was batting a perfect 1,000 in the stupid gifts of the year award.

By far the stupidest gift I've ever bought for my wife was purchased about 20 years ago. It was a time in our lives when we were stabilizing our family and things were going well. During this particular holiday season my wife was dropping hints that a diamond necklace or diamond earrings could be the one gift she could possibly keep. I remember hearing the hints, but somehow put the statements in the back of my mind in the place where lost thoughts go. In other words, I never listened to her.

I thought this would be a good year to only purchase funny gifts. I thought we all had everything we needed, so a few laughs during the holiday season had to be a good thing. So I bought her a "chia head." These are ceramic things that you push dirt in to make it grow green stuff. It had been on the market for years, but during this particular season they came out with different styles. Since my wife had an interest in fashion and design, I decided to buy her a large bust of a woman whose head was supposed to turn green.

On that particular Christmas morning, my wife slowly opened the meticulously wrapped present in anticipation that her hints had been heeded. Pedro Ramirez should have the arm my wife demonstrated on that Christmas morning. She opened the back door of our home and threw my first and last funny gift deep into the woods. I never heard it land, and to this day I have no clue as to where it is. I assume there is a giant bush emanating out of a ceramic head that will be found by excavators of the 23rd century, wondering what kind of a society existed where plants were grown out of ceramic heads.

Walking into the mall I started breaking out in a cold sweat, wondering what disastrous present I was destined to buy and to eventually return. I spent more than two hours wandering thought the labyrinth of the mall, failing miserably to find that perfect gift.

Then something odd caught my eye. It was a miniature tree growing out of a colored glass ball. Could this be the perfect gift for my wife, or am I in the process of planting another archeological marvel? Only a Christmas morning will tell.

Jim Fabiano is a teacher and writer living in York, Maine. E-mail Jim at yorkmarine@yahoo.com.