Quiet Winter Evenings

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Whisk…

Whisk…

Whisk…

Whisk…

Call me crazy, but I LOVE the slow, methodical scraping of a knifeblade being pushed across a whetstone!

It’s just so droning. So repetitive. So relaxing.

(It’s also when I get my best thinking done).

After about 15 or 20 minutes of sharpening, however, I paused to inspect my pocketknife and carefully run my thumb along its edge. It looked (and felt) good and sharp, but there was still one final test…

I rolled up my sleeve and gently pulled the blade against the back of my arm.

The keen edge cut a few hairs, but it took a little more effort than it should. The knife still wasn’t what I’d call “shaving sharp.” So, I went back to sharpening — but as I did, I couldn’t help smiling a little.

Y’see, it was almost bedtime (even though our little monkey had long since “hit the hay”), and there we were, just me and Lindsey, sitting at our old kitchen table, working on our own individual “projects.” I was sharpening knives, and Lindsey was hunched over her sewing machine, piecing together random bits of fabric to make a little apron for our munchkin.

Lindsey glanced up from her sewing machine and noticed me staring at her. Without saying a word, she gave me a beautiful little smile, and then quietly went back to her work.

Now, I’m not generally the type of guy who wears his emotions on his sleeve, but as I went back to my sharpening, my heart was just beaming! I absolutely love spending time with my sweetheart. Everything about that moment was so peaceful and so serene, even if it was a little bizarre. I mean, let’s face it, sharpening knives and sewing aprons? That’s not what most folks would consider a “romantic getaway.”

But that’s how we roll out here.

Sure, we’re a couple of weirdies — but at least we’re the same kind of weird!

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