I’ve gotten a lot of jaw-dropping mileage out of telling people that my mom eats popcorn for dinner every Sunday. Yes, for dinner. Yes, every Sunday. I mean, ok, sometimes she’s on vacation, whatever. I’m not saying she never misses a week. But when she misses one, I think she really misses it.

Anyway, sitting around a table this holiday weekend with her four siblings, I come to find out that three of them also eat popcorn for dinner frequently. Yes, for dinner. Not quite as regularly as my mom, I don’t think, but they each said something more than once a month.

I’ll have to ask around, but at the moment these are the only four people in the world who I know eat popcorn as a meal with any regularity. And they are siblings. And, to the best of my knowledge, they didn’t do it when they were growing up or anything. I don’t think their parents did it. So… what’s going on here?

I don’t know. I also don’t know if that conversation contributed to why popcorn sounded so good to me this evening. After having a relatively light dinner before an evening meeting, I told myself it was ok if I wanted to eat a dessert or something once I was home. Ice cream? Or maybe just a beer? no… POPCORN!

It was good, too.

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