Dear Diary: Busting, Popping

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At our very late dinner (we had the New Panorama to ourselves), I told Kathleen that I could have kept time sheets for the day. I could account for every half-hour segment of the day.

I got a lot done, all right, but it wasn’t what I would call a “productive” day. “Productive” means something else — there’s an element of surprise involved. Wow, look what I did! That was wholly lacking today. I had to make a list (mental time sheets) in order to remind myself of all that I’d accomplished.

It was the same thing yesterday. I don’t know myself anymore. I’ve become — gasp! — a steady worker!

I did make popcorn in the middle of the day. Well, it wasn’t the middle of the day really, but more like seven o’clock. I had just finished a long overdo book write-up, and I was about to pay bills. I made popcorn largely for the larder; I like to have it around for the occasional hunger pang, especially now that I’m making good popcorn again. I only ate a bit of it. Then I got back to work. Paying, as I say, the bills.

The bills were not fun to pay this month. Next month will be better! Even though I ordered an Asus netbook this morning.
What was it with the bad popcorn, anyway? I ask myself this a lot lately. One of the few specific things that my father taught me was how to make popcorn. To give you an idea of how exceptional this was, let me share with you his method for cooking bacon.

Three-Step Bacon

    (1) Put a pound of bacon in a skillet.
    (2) Over heat (turn on the stove).
    (3) Rely on the rest of the family or the fire department to prevent fatal smoke inhalation, as you snooze in your easy chair, having completely forgotten the first two steps.

Dad made popcorn in an electric popper that couldn’t be washed very conveniently, but that was the least important angle. Peanut oil was the indispensable ingredient. Why did I forget this? For years I used canola and safflower oil, always regretting the results. And we’ll draw a veil over the various microwave techniques, one of which required a small treated cardboard patch that had to be thrown away after three or four uses. I have no idea why I ever strayed from the tried and true laetificat juventutum meum, but it’s good to have my head screwed on again.

I not only knew a would-be popper guy who thought that corn syrup was a substitute for corn oil, but I saw the pot that he tried it out in. Not pretty!