It's not that Mother lies. She tells stories. Especially about presents. Every object has an elaborate back story. It runs in the family. Her brother is the same way. Sometimes she gets so used to telling stories and the stories become so convincing, it becomes hard to tell fiction from fiction.
(I found an ugly, knobbly candlestick holder in our cabinets yesterday)
Moi: Why do you have this? What is this?
Mother: It's from the Lutheran church. It's hand carved by one of their missionaries from some place faraway.
Moi: Then why does it say "Do good and forget me" on it?
Mother: Oh. Maybe I just picked it up from their Free pile. I don't remember.
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