I have always loved pocket knives. They are so cool in so many ways. Each knife has something unique about it--something that makes it awesome.
Well, I think so, at least.
Anyway, I think I get this trait from my dad, who is a collector of pocket knives. And I think he somehow passed it along to me.
But I enjoy finding excuses to use my knives. "What, a package came? Oh okay, let me get a knife." "Oh we need to carve a pumpkin, but don't have a pumpkin carving kit? I think I have a knife for that." "Break down those boxes? Yeah, let me grab a knife." "Intruder alert? No worries, I have a knife." (This last example has yet to happen. Also, I think I would prefer using a frying pan to a knife. Tyler and I discussed this today.)
Funny story:
I have this one particularly vicious-looking knife that I love. (The blade is black. Which is awesome.) I think that this was the knife I decided to bring with me freshman year (despite the no weapons clause of my housing contract). I remember using it to open the boxes that I had shipped from Texas to Utah as I unpacked my things and moved in to DT. I also remember that I was doing this pretty late, and started to get really tired. I hadn't yet met my roommate (in person), but I had been using her bed to set things on as I unpacked (hoping she wouldn't mind).
Anyway, I was tired, and decided to go to bed. Or maybe I just fell into bed and slept--I don't really remember. But I do remember vaguely thinking, "Where did I leave my knife? I think (*yawn*) I left it on Michelle's bed . . .zzzzzzzzz. . . " '
And guess what. I did leave it on her bed. On her pillow. Open. Five(ish) inches of menacing black steel, welcoming her home, and introducing her to her new roommate. (I could be wrong. Maybe the knife I brought had a silver blade instead. Either way - fierce steel, sharp and exposed, on Michelle's pillow.)
I can't imagine what she thought when she came in and saw it. In retrospect, I'm surprised we even became friends at all. I mean, clearly, I was psycho.
But somehow we became the best of friends anyway--even if Michelle always made fun of me and my knives.
I really am grateful for them though. They have come in handy many times throughout the years. And although I don't really carry the knives around anywhere (because I don't want someone to arrest me), I love that I can use them at home.
1 comment:
HAHAHAHA!! I never knew that story. And scratch my comment on your next blog post. Like I said I'm reading them backwards. I too have an affinity for pocket knifes courtesy of dad. I have tons. But Adam doesn't like me to use them because I have a habit of nicking my fingers. He's so cute when he gets all nervous and protective. And really I think I only slip up when he's around. I don't know what that's about.
Do you know that I found out he still carries the knife Dad gave him for Christmas last year? It goes everywhere with Adam. Even while we were broken up he still had it. To be fair it is an awesome knife. But I thought it was touching that he loved the gift so much he keeps it and uses it for everything.
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