Knives and Kin

In our household nothing sharpens the claws of sibling rivalry quite like holiday crafting. Take this evening's pumpkin carving party at my parents' condo for example. In the days leading up to the event my siblings and I all conveyed, in some form or another, how much we weren't "really feeling up to" the whole pumpkin carving thing this year. Yet when tiny orange knife came to gourd, each of us scooped, scraped and sawed at our pumpkins with a focused fervor typically reserved for sporting events, and megachurches.

Although they all turned out great, I think it's safe to say that my pumpkin, with its incredibly high level of detail ("Wait, is that a real bat?") and useful alternate function as a Bat Signal (bring it inside the house, toss a candle in it and watch it glow onto the ceiling like the device Commissioner Gordon and other members of the Gotham City Police Department use to summon Batman in times of crisis), stood a cut above the rest, even if my parents, the evening's unofficial judges, thought "the Michigan one" was "really cute" or whatever.