It is True. I Had Popcorn for Dinner and Thoroughly Enjoyed an Evening of Christmas Lights, Editing Submissions for an International Journal, and Being Home

I imagine there might be a survey taken of childhoods and the histories of how popcorn operated. I think I was in 1st grade when I learned to make popcorn on the stove. On nights of Little House on the Prairie and The Waltons, mom could send me, Cynde, or KC to make the ritual. We didn't think twice that our popcorn bowl coupled as our sick bowl for vomit. It was a multi-purpose bowl and I can tell you it still resides exactly where it always was. I could find the bowl blindfolded in a told blackout.

In my adult life, however, I don't multi-task my popcorn bowl. I use a salad bowl and if I have to vomit, I use a trashcan in my room like normal people...or I make it to the toilet. I definitely differentiate the space for popcorn and the space for puke.

Last night was a popcorn night. The idea trickled into my head while attending a day of faculty retreats and an evening mission to finish  editing responsibilities. I'm going to have popcorn for dinner, and that is okay. I am always impressed at how professional I can be making popcorn. I once made it for adults in a GED course while working as an undergraduate intern - whoa! he's making popcorn without a microwave. Did you know you could do that?

I could. And I did. I still do. First a little oil with two seeds in the pot...when they pop, I add additional seeds, and then I govern them while they get all spastic, flip-floppy,  an orgasmic in oil-entrenched ecstasy. I aim for perfect poppage and hope to only have only a few (less than 20) seeds that don't make it to full bloom. I usually succeed. Last night, I did exceptionally well. Only three seeds didn't pop.

And I also took a photo of my house lit up for Christmas, but opted for this photo, because Karal is clingy and didn't know why I would go outside at night with my phone and a bowl of popcorn. I was on a mission to get a photo. I finished editing several pieces and, proud of myself, I went to the front yard to capture the joy of white lights (which are a popcorn yellow color, if you come to think of it). As I did this, I also saw that Karal's head was in search of me, so I walked closer to get a photo of her. She's the reason why people stop in front of my house to get photos....look at that dog in the window (she has adopted and perfected Glamis's ritual).

If ever anyone needed to write my eulogy and say a few things about me, I suppose this blog post is as close to my true self as it might get. I dappled in childhood, barf-bowl memories to recall the happiness that comes from a popcorn dinner, all to celebrate an academic accomplishment with my dog within the holiday lights. That is, after all, exactly who Bryan Ripley Crandall is. That is the joy he wanted throughout his life.

This is as good as it ever gets.