:: popcorn update
I figured if I was making enough popcorn to write a post about it, maybe I was making enough popcorn to merit spending money on and allotting precious kitchen space to a machine dedicated to making popcorn with ease. Gone are the days of my childhood where popcorn makers were larger than your stock pot – or so I hoped.
We welcomed an air popper into our household this week and immediately put it to the test. A whole stock pot full of popcorn in two minutes, wowee. Everybody knows how to make popcorn now, and we all stand around and watch them pop. Very exciting. Also very satisfying.
The popcorn still could probably use a minute in the oven to crisp up. Because it’s an air popper, it doesn’t use any oil and I’m having wild thoughts about using butter solely for flavor. Because I can. But I probably won’t.
Turns out the kids love plain popcorn liberally dusted with cinnamon. I shouldn’t have been surprised — they all love to eat applesauce with more cinnamon than you can shake a stick at.
:: lumps, bumps, and sunscreen
I went to the doctor on Friday to check out a lump on my chest that I saw in the mirror that morning. I won’t kid that there aren’t some scary thoughts associated with the word lump. (Lump. Rather an ugly word in itself, but kinda satisfying to say. Lump. Lllluuuummmmp. Not like the word “vulgar” – that’s just ugly all the way around.)
It turned out to be a sebaceous cyst. (Not worrisome).
Then, since I was there, I made the doctor (made being the operative word) do a breast exam as well — I hadn’t had one since I finished breastfeeding. Can we just talk breast exams for a moment? I really don’t see how a brief feel-feel, and another brief feel-feel qualify as a thorough breast exam.
And then, since I was there (let’s kill all the birds with the stone), I had the doctor look at a rough spot on my temple. Pre-cancerous sun damage. Ouch. He froze it with his big bottle of frozen torture and I squeezed my eyes shut and remembered holding my great-grandma’s hand while she got a spot frozen on her nose. I am now one with the ladies in their eighties.
I’ve been a faithful sun screener. Most of the time I try to just stay out of the sun. After all, sunscreen and sun damage seem to be a classic case of d-d if you do and d-d if you don’t. This summer I bought Neutrogena baby sunblock. Hypo-allergenic this and free and clear that. Thick, white sun block that takes hours to rub into a family of 6 but still leaves us looking like escapees from Clowns Anonymous.
A couple of years ago my mom gave me a bottle of the most delightful sunscreen. It sprays on, light and clear. It’s the work of a second to rub it in. A little goes a long way. It was quite expensive, so I guarded it carefully. But not carefully enough, because somebody got into the cupboard and dumped it out. I don’t remember who the somebody was in this instance. And I was horrified at the waste and sad to say goodbye to such a delightful product. But a little relieved as well. Surely something so very nice was way toxic and I was poisoning my family, sacrificing them on the altar of easy application. I was so convinced it was highly toxic that I couldn’t bring myself to look it up in the toxic database, I held tightly to my ignorance. I currently have the same problem with my antiperspirant.
My sister left me her bottle of KinEsys – she figured she won’t need it much in London. Sunscreening my family is now a joy unparalleled. Spray, rub, done + peace of mind = I’ve become an evangelist.
So let me do a little evangelizing. If you’re of the sunscreening type, I’d like to highly recommend KinEsys. (It’s worth the money.) I also recommend keeping the bottle out of the hands of people who might pour it out. Don’t want to be crying over spilt sunscreen.