I'm having a love affair with popcorn.
We used to just see each other at the movies. I would sit in the dark theater, with my hand in the warm buttery tub delighting in my guilty pleasure. Everything was rather innocent back then.
And every once in awhile I would pop some in the microwave. I would tell the kids it was for them. Like a favorite uncle, they loved it when popcorn was in our house.
But then we bought an air popper.
It's been two weeks. Two weeks of never ending popcorn.
First I made caramel corn for my kids' teachers. The good crunchy kind. I thought I could share it. I thought I would be strong enough to give some of my beloved popcorn away.
But then I started to think of excuses to make more. The neighbors needed some, and we ought to make a double batch for our family Christmas Eve party. And each time I would dip in and dive further into the affair.
I also realized how wonderful air popped popcorn with real butter was. It was like finding a deeper more meaningful side to the snack that I desperately craved. The final ingredient to fall completely under popcorn's control. And now I am lost.
Lost to popcorn.
Buttery, caramel, or even coated in red jello, I cannot get enough.
But it's not so bad. Popcorn is good with the kids. It's also healthy to have popcorn in your life (it is high in fiber, you know.) Also it doesn't bother me in bed or dirty too many dishes. Popcorn is easy to make and on adventurous days it doesn't mind if I get creative. I'm thinking about continuing the affair and just keeping my husband around to shovel the driveway and change poopy diapers.
Because popcorn is my lover now.