I STILL REMEMBER the first time I saw a weapon in my house.

It was about three years ago, and my wife and I were in the midst of one of some silly argument. I can’t remember what it was about. All I know is, LaVeta, was upset, and I made a terrible mistake. I followed her into a room she knows much better than I do – the kitchen.

I said something to press my point, and that’s when it happened. LaVeta reached into the dish rack, pulled out a cheese grater and pointed it toward me.

At least I thought it was a cheese grater. Apparently it was a microplane zester, and though she later told me she would not have actually used it, I imagined her grating me into a pile of brown confetti. Hell hath no fury like a woman with a microplane zester.