I returned the Banana Republic bag today. James didn't like it. I thought it was great: smooth/fuzzy tan-colored suede, smelling of leather and adventure. A messenger bag. I cried when he told me he didn't like it. I looked long and hard for it. The bag was the largest present to him from me under the tree. I don't mind now, of course. I'll use the money for something else. It's funny. If I ever told my parents that I didn't like one of their gifts, I would be "ungrateful", "unthankful", and "selfish". James has no problems with speaking his mind on such thing. I guess that's why my parents don't really know me. I never tell them when they are off-track.