I spent a year saving for my dream designer bag. I skipped takeout, sold what I could, and watched every penny. Then, during a casual Sunday lunch, my husband gave it to his mom without asking. He thought it was no big deal. He was wrong, and he found that out the hard way.

It started with a neighborhood potluck Jake and I hosted a few years ago, and a casserole dish.

I’d spent hours making my grandmother’s spinach artichoke casserole in my favorite ceramic baking dish, a vintage piece I’d found in a thrift shop.

Our neighbor Sue couldn’t stop raving about that casserole.