During the week of Christmas we were excited to host Kevin's mom, dad, brother, and grandparents for a few days. It was a tight squeeze at times in our little house, but we all had a lovely time together. We perused downtown boutiques, checking out all the historic spots along the way, celebrated together in a Christmas Eve and Christmas Day worship service, enjoyed a party with lots of church friends, ate a fantastic pot roast dinner at Randy & Sheryl's and watched Courageous with them, toured the local schoolhouse-turned-Bed-and-Breakfast and as well as the college campus where Kevin takes seminary classes, and played a rousing game of Apples to Apples.
In the midst of all our goings and comings, we found time to sit and relax. Some read, some napped, some computer-gamed, some crocheted. And two or three times we watched a movie or tv show together, including Love Comes Softly (one of the movies mom received for Christmas), Mrs. Miracle (your typical Hallmark movie), and an episode of Monk and MacGyver. Yeah, we're that awesome.
During the showing of Love Comes Softly (which is way more intense to watch now that I'm married and understand these things...sheesh, Janette Oke), I decided to start a batch of popcorn. Now, if you know me, you know I love popcorn. And in the past couple years I've really fallen head over heels for the homemade variety. You know--kernels, oil, pot, salt, done. A few times a week (not even kidding) I heat up our heavy-bottomed pot and whip up a batch of my favorite snack. No problem. I don't have to shake the pot or watch it like a hawk. This stock pot does popcorn right, all by itself.
So I started the popcorn and left the room to watch the movie with the family.
After the popcorn was popping away, Dad asked me if I needed to check on it. I said, "No" knowing my awesome pot would be just fine. I did think it sounded a little louder than usual, but we just turned up the tv and ignored it.
When the popping began to die down, I went out to take it off the heat. What I saw made me simultaneously want to laugh and cry. There was popcorn popping and flying ALL OVER my kitchen. I had forgotten the lid to the pot and those beautifully popped kernels (along with all the oil!) was EVERYWHERE. I started cracking up laughing and the family quickly rushed to the scene, pulling out cameras and ipods to capture the moment. It was pretty memorable.
For the next 20 minutes, I was sweeping up popcorn, picking it out of baskets and shelves, having Kevin move the stove so I could get the hidden kernels, and scrubbing up grease on my hands and knees. I made another batch of popcorn and settled in for the end of the movie. All 5 minutes of it. :)
I'm hoping I'm not alone in kitchen mishaps. Anyone else? (This same weekend I also burned chex mix, forgot the timer on the rolls, and let potatoes boil over.)