My father is a sharp knife addict. Whenever he was bored he would pull out his knives and give them a few swipes with his sharpening stone. Even today, he always travels with his sharpening stone. We never appreciated his pleasure in having a well honed knife. Whenever our dates brought us home late, he would come to the door, slowly swishing his knives back and forth. We did understand the pleasure he took in scaring the living daylights out of our dates. Twisted family that we are.
As my dad says, "when your gonna' skin a moose, you gotta' have a sharp knife."