DEAR MISS MANNERS: My daughter and I always seem to be attending a funeral service. Sometimes this takes time and effort to do. This is a large city, and we sometimes drive 10 miles to the mortuary.

We do not expect a thank you note for our efforts, but my sister-in-law doesn't want to bother, so she picks up the phone and orders flowers, and she gets the thank you note. In other words, thoughtfulness and effort doesn't count.

GENTLE READER: Of course they do. It just so happens that your thoughtfulness and efforts are directed at the only people who are automatically excused -- even by Miss Manners -- from writing thank you letters. Your sister-in-law has directed hers at people who, like the rest of us, are not excused, even though it is a difficult time for them.

To attend a funeral is to pay your respects to the person who died. This may also be a comfort to the bereaved, but that is an extra benefit. You also owe a duty toward them, which can take the form of writing a letter of sympathy or paying a condolence visit, sending flowers or bringing food, and offering whatever practical help you can. Miss Manners is glad to hear that as a family, you are both paying respect and offering comfort, but she would prefer to hear that each of you is doing both.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Say there is a man in our town who wants to be friendly with us. Say we have long ago decided he is someone to run from. If he calls and invites us to dinner on a Saturday, it is, of course, simple to declare that we are otherwise occupied. When he then says, "Anytime next weekend, " we can claim a trip out of town, or visitors, or whatever. But then, being told we can't make it, he says, "Then you choose a night to come."

I think two rules apply here; from the postmark you will know I am southern, and with that territory comes the wish to never be rude to anyone. That's one; but the second is that I also don't allow myself to be tyrannized into going somewhere I don't want to go. My husband is in complete agreement but says he must leave to me the details. What, then, can I say?

GENTLE READER: It is the wish of all decent people everywhere never to be rude, or so Miss Manners dearly wants to believe. That it is the wish of all people everywhere to get rid of pests is something she does believe.

The direct method is rude, so that is out. Nice people don't go around saying, "Go away, we'll never be so desperate as to find free time to spend time with you, not even if you were the last person on earth."

So we have the indirect method you have described. When that fails, as it has in this case, we do not revert to the direct method -- "What's the matter, don't you get it?" -- but get even more indirect.

You need a pass that is good for the year, not just for a day or a weekend, and that is, "Oh, dear, I'm afraid we really are much too busy, and I just can't schedule anything more. You are very kind to ask us. Why don't we call you if we find we're free, after all?"

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: Our living room has two large, built-in bookcases, filled with some of our favorite books. (Still others fill up our study.) The first guests to arrive at our parties will occasionally stand near the bookcases and scan the book titles without taking any book from the shelf.

My wife regards such behavior as rude and insists that such persons are probing too deeply into our personal interests. I, on the other hand, figure that the books are visible in the room; we aren't hiding them. For a guest to casually look at the spines of the books is a far cry from probing into someone's bathroom cabinet to see what cosmetics or medications are there.

GENTLE READER: Accustomed as Miss Manners is to denouncing snoops, she is much too atwitter with curiosity to manage doing it here. What on earth are you people reading?

"Swinging with Dick and Jane"?

"Recognizing the Rodents in Your Kitchen"?

And, if so, why don't you tuck them behind Stephen Hawking's "Quest for a Theory of Everything" where no one will ever find them?

People are supposed to talk about books. This is respectable conversation. It is actually fun. Miss Manners knows people who chase around their hapless friends, desperate to make them read their own favorites, and are chased by them in turn. (All right, she is referring to herself.) The loathsome term "conversation piece" is applied to books that are left around expressly for the purpose of getting a good conversation going.

(Free anecdote: Once, when Miss Manners' Aunt Helen was trying to be hospitable to a neighbor, conversation was lagging for lack of an interest in common. Valiantly, the neighbor looked about for a possible topic, and her eye landed on Aunt Helen's poetry collection. "Oh," she said, "I notice you are interested in anthology.")

No, examining books on your hosts' shelf is not like looking into their medicine cabinet. It is like looking at the pictures on their walls. Miss Manners notices that you are interested in sunflowers, if your wife doesn't find that too personal an insight.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: In one of those places where they bring you a little pot of hot water and a selection of tea bags so you can brew your own tea, I put the teabag in the cup and pour the hot water over it and let it steep for a minute or two. Then I dunk the bag up and down a few times, put the tea bag in the bowl of my spoon, put the little paper thingy on the end of the string over the teabag, and smush out the last few drops with my thumb.

This is a kind of messy operation, and sometimes some tea drizzles down my arm to the elbow. Should I use a second spoon for this or what? Nothing seems to work quite right for me. Maybe it would be better if I just ordered what I want and let someone back in the kitchen deal with the details. But that would lose a lot of the charm, wouldn't it?

GENTLE READER: Maybe it would be better if you found a place where they let you brew your own tea with tea leaves you could see and strain in a proper strainer. Miss Manners' idea of charm doesn't have strings and tags attached.

Her distaste for anything that brings paper to the table (except the news at breakfast) makes her reluctant to reveal a maneuver that may encourage teabags. However, for the sake of saving your shirts, she will confide that it is possible to get most last drops by using the string to bind (technical term: smush) the bag against the spoon.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: The scenario: the 50th wedding anniversary of my favorite uncle and his wife. (Note the phrasing.) He and I were very close and had frequent conversations until I came out five years ago and my wife and I separated.

Since then, by his choice, our contact has been minimal, and his interest in my life has gone from high to none. So I was very pleased to have the opportunity again to see both him and my four cousins, all of whom I enjoy immensely. And I was doubly glad to see him after considering the actuarial tables, since it was likely our last personal visit.

While there's no question that this was Their Evening and that the anniversary couple was, quite rightly, the center of attention, these family events are also catch-up times, with everybody sharing news since the last big get-together at a cousin's wedding in the previous century. So what does the black sheep of the family share?

I wasn't going to volunteer anything that would likely be seen as inflammatory (or as "rubbing their faces in my lifestyle"), but if I was asked a question, I would answer it without editing my pronouns. (I have a partner of four years, so saying "I went to Australia this spring" would be grammatically accurate, but nonetheless misleading.)

We all find ourselves in situations where a little less detail makes for a more agreeable evening, but when family is involved, there's always the subtext, "How well do you really want to know ME?" I would appreciate your guidance on this subject.

GENTLE READER: Yes, there is always that question, no matter how harmonious the family situation, and you are wise to recognize it. Miss Manners can think of loving relatives who would turn enemies if they freely discussed their politics, never mind their love lives.

Once one has the maturity to recognize that principle should not automatically trump the claims of family -- although Miss Manners recognizes that there are tragic cases in which it must -- applying it becomes a matter of judgment. Your plan of discussing public matters, such as your taking a trip with your partner, but not private ones, such as how happy you are together, seems a reasonable balance.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have a pet peeve. When invited to dinner, be it to someone's home or an evening out, is it not appropriate for the inviter to inform the invitee that others will also be joining the dinner engagement if that is the intent? Does this not rate rather high on the rudeness scale, not to inform?

GENTLE READER: If you are encouraged to arrive dressed for a quiet evening and discover that it is a major dinner party, with everyone all tucked out, yes, Miss Manners agrees that it weighs on the rudeness scale. Maybe not on the top, but high.

If you are unknowingly lured to encounter someone known to be your enemy, also yes.

Otherwise, the custom is to warn people only that there will not be other guests and they will have to talk to their hosts all evening. The phrase used, in a voice suggesting coziness, is "It will be just us."

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