See this bowl? Isn’t it pretty? Isn’t it shiny? Isn’t it orange?

You’re actually looking at the back end of this bowl.

Know what I use it for?

It’s my popcorn bowl. I know. It seems big, but you can dump the whole of the contents of the popcorn popper into this bowl. Sometimes, I even share it with Mr. G, honey. Sometimes. Okay. Most of the time.

Wanna see the front end?

Yep. It’s our Halloween treat bowl for the little tricksters who arrive at our door once a year.

Every time I walked by it sitting on a shelf in the basement, I felt bugged and bothered sad. It seemed such a shame for it to be sitting there 364 days out of the year.

So I repurposed it, or recycled it, or reused it, or something. Now it gets used much more often, and I get to eat the contents instead of giving it away to tricksy tricksters. I never eat their treats. I swear!

This is our popcorn maker.

We use it on the stove with the wet-pop method. That’s where you add oil to the pot. I know things. I love it. It has gears and a crank handle that moves a thingy on the inside that keeps the popcorn moving. I know. I missed my calling as a technical writer.

I cropped the wine bottle out of the image. I didn’t want you to think I was engaging in tippling in the middle of my workday.

Yes, you are looking at my favorite brand of popcorn. It’s not generic, but it pops consistently every single time. I’m sure you have your favorite brand. FYI — Orville doesn’t know I’m touting his brand. Orville doesn’t know me, and I don’t know Orville.

Different sources put the age of popcorn between 5,000 and 8,000 years. Either works for me. It’s older than I am. That’s all I care about.

That’s your Elen trivia for the day.

Right now I’m working on a short story that I’d like to repurpose into a place mat or a doorknob. Ornery Sven is on the treadmill thumbing the latest issue of Redbook. His lips are moving. He might be taking the Sex & Love Q&A. I can’t say. I’m busy over here tweeting blogging texting repurposing my short story.

In the world of shred, I’m up to the letter M in the 4-drawer. I’m thinking of upgrading to an industrial strength shredder. The red light of overheating is my constant companion.