L.A. premiere of 'Twilight'
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Whenever I was allowed to sleep in on the Saturday mornings of my youth, I'd listen for the peddler with the sharpening stone. "Knives and scissors," he'd sing-song his way through the alley behind our rowhouse. Unfortunately, my mother was deaf to his calls. To her, cheap knives were good enough. And to my knowledge, she never had hers sharpened. Thus, I came to cooking inadequately armed.
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