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It is very likely that those knives in your kitchen aren’t sharp. I’m not judging you. In fact, only very recently have I purchased a whetstone and started sharpening my knives by hand.

As you are aware, last night I battled my way through my midterm. Now there was little I could do to prepare for the thing. Sure, I studied the recipes that we’d potentially be required to execute, but my skills were not going to hugely improve overnight. The only thing I could do that would make my job easier was to have the proper tools.

So there I was, in my kitchen, Tom Petty in the background, sharpening my knives just hours before the midterm. I got those knives scary sharp, which may not have made me a better cook, but did make the prep work less of a chore.

The point? Cooking is way more fun when you take care of your equipment, because, in turn, it’ll take care of you.

I guess I should mention what I’m thankful for, since it’s Thangsiving and all. In reality, the basis of this holiday is gruesome and not something that should be celebrated. That being said, what it now represents is what I’m all about: good food, lots of drinks, all with the people you love.

I am thankful for my parents, because of their love, support and friendship, and because they gave me my brother, my best friend and partner in crime. I am thankful for my S.S., who actually tolerates me, and I think even likes me. I am thankful for my friends, both new and old. I am thankful to be on the path to pursuing my life goals.

And, of course, I am thankful for salt, bacon and butter.

Happy and healthy Thanksgiving to all my faithful readers.

Well, not much, really. Greasy food is typical, beer is mandatory.

I have come to accept that football is now a part of my life, and I’ve actually begun to enjoy it. Sundays should be dedicated to slothing around and enjoying the final respite from the work week, preferably in your underwear.

Football is the perfect excuse to do pretty much nothing all day, and for that reason alone, I welcome it into my life.

I am clumsy. I realize this now more than ever. My lackadaisical way of going about things has me collecting new burns, nicks, blisters and gashes every week.

I don’t remember how I got this nasty burn. I’ve been told that there are less nerve endings on the back of the hand, which decreases our perception of pain in this area. I think I was just too frenzied to notice.

This is my most recent masterpiece. I sliced off a chunk of fingernail and bit of finger. I like to imagine this little piece of me in a compost pile somewhere, but it’s most likely rotting in a landfill.

Do you have any injuries acquired in the kitchen that you’d like to share? Pictures are encouraged. Let’s compare scars and trade war stories–ya know, like they do in the movies.

When planning to visit my parents for a weekend, my dad announced that he would drag out the deep fryer. That was all I had to hear to get me on a train out to the ‘burbs for a couple of days.

And you thought he was kidding. Here we have deep-fried string beans, cod and corn dogs. Oh, and we also made potato chips. With my dad at the helm and me, salt in hand, we were the two-person team behind the dinner aptly named by my dad, “Sunday Fry-Up”.

I can’t say that my GI tract let me off easily, but this day dedicated to gluttony and grease was entirely worth it. The bonds formed and enhanced by spending time in the kitchen and around the dinner table with others is, to me, one of the simple beauties in life. So though you may just see a bunch of fried food, I see love.

Cheesy? Perhaps. True? Undoubtedly.