Saturday, June 13, 2009

I'm Popped!

Lorna A few years back, my friend Susie gave me a Corel bowl (along with a lot of other odd dishes). It became my favorite popcorn bowl.

I LOVE popcorn. I love it in many forms (think Kettle Corn, Fiddle Faddle, Fiddle faddle Munch & Crunch--Screaming Yellow Zonkers), but mostly I eat it air blown and squirted with I Can't Believe It's Not Butter and a little salt.

But several months ago, tragedy struck. I don't have a lot of storage space in my galley kitchen, so sometimes things are precariously balanced in the cupboards and -- you got it -- CRASH! And of course when Corel breaks, it shatters into a million pieces. (It took me ten minutes to locate and vacuum up all that glass.)

This was a serious situation. I eat popcorn three or four days a week. I had to wait until April and the garage sale season to start up again. (Buy new? What, are you crazy?) Unfortunately, the sales were late in coming, and the few sales I found had nothing that would fit my popcorn addiction. In May, I bought my first replacement bowl. It's actually a pasta bowl with a picture of pear and some other fruit (it's kind of ambiguous). Unfortunately, it was too small. (You think I'm going to put less popcorn in the popper so it would fit? Too much trouble. I've got my measure, and that's what I'm using.) The second bowl was bigger, but it's sooooo heavy, that you can barely lift it. And as I'm ususally reading the morning paper (I read it in the evening--yes, I'm not normal), it's tough to balance the bowl with the paper (and usually a cat on my lap).

Bigbowl2 I felt like Goldilocks a week ago, when I found the perfect bowl. Okay, it's NOT perfect. Look at it. It's old and stained, but I liked that. I made up a story to go with my new popcorn bowl. I think it must have belonged to a woman named Sally. Aunt Sally (who was actually a grandma, too). Aunt Sally was famous for her whipped potatoes. When the whole family came to visit, she would fill that bowl with whipped potatoes, with a big gob of butter melting on the top, and the compliments would fly. Nobody made whipped potatoes like our Aunt Sally. (BTW, I do not have an Aunt Sally.)

And now I enjoy my popcorn from that bowl -- a bowl full of memories. Does it really matter if they aren't real?