Popcorn

Popcorn has been an integral part of my life. It is actually part of some of
my very earliest memories. My dad used to make popcorn and I would help him eat
it. We have pictures of me eating popcorn with him when I was a year old! I
would run up and grab a handful of popcorn and run off to eat it. Over and over
and over.

My parents were never terribly strict on bedtimes. If my brother or I went
to bed and couldn’t sleep we could get up and check out what was going on. That
usually meant sharing popcorn with my dad and snuggling in with my mom. As I
grew, I didn’t always leave my bed for the popcorn. By the time I was in grade
school, I was asleep and didn’t care if I missed the late night popcorn because
I knew Dad would make too much and he’d leave it in the bowl until the next
day. Saturday mornings I would wake up to watch cartoons and snack on the
leftover popcorn. That was my hands-down favorite food for a very long time.

You have to remember that I’m old enough to know what the world was like
before microwave popcorn bags. I can make popcorn on the stove. I can make
popcorn in an air popper. I can make popcorn from a bag. Of all of them my
favorite is the air popper. My family started out with the regular air popper.
Then we had a spiffy microwave air popper (it sort of looked like this only square). My mom gave it to me a few years ago
and I brought it home. My husband, aka The Consolidator, obviously didn’t know
what it was and couldn’t be bothered to ask so he threw it away. I pouted for a
very long time, but it didn’t bring back my popper. That Christmas my dad gave
me a regular old air popper…and I love it. I would venture to say that 80% of
the popcorn I make is air popped. I love the way it tastes, the fact that I
decide how much butter goes on, how the butter makes the popcorn kind of wet,
how I can salt as much or as little as I want. Heaven, I tell you.

Now when I make popcorn, I usually do it after the kids go to bed. I don’t
like to share my loot because they pick out all the buttery ones. Sure, I hear
about it when they wake up: “Mom! You know you aren’t supposed to eat popcorn
without us! You broke the rule!” Of course, that’s an arbitrary,
made-up-by-a-munchkin rule that doesn’t count in my grown-up world. I tell them
I’ll try not to do it again. They know I can’t help myself.

My dad still makes popcorn. He has a huge green bowl that, I swear, if you
actually filled it up with popcorn, it would take a week to eat it all. When I visit
him and his wife, we wait until my kids go to bed to make popcorn. Of course,
they hear it and smell it and just can’t help themselves so they come
tip-toeing out to the TV room with expectant looks on their faces. “Mom? I can’t
really sleep…oh. Did you make popcorn? Can I have some?” And I give them a hug
and let them curl up beside me on the couch to eat as much as they want.

If you decide to post your own Monday Memory, let me know and I’ll link to you!