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In my family, popcorn is not just a traditional snack to go along with Friday night movies.  It accompanies Yatzee games on lazy summer evenings, is choked while gasping at a shocking twist in a NCIS episode, and tucks itself into homework folders and history textbooks.  It is vacuumed up by my Australian Shepherd, Cody, and even munched on by my cats Hobbes and Picklette.  Popcorn has laced itself into so many of my fond memories, it is hard not to love it.  Not just any popcorn will do, however.  The only popcorn that is truly satisfactory is a large bowl of stovetop popcorn.  Rather than just throwing a bag into a microwave, I have to wait patiently next to the stove, listening for the tiny *ping* sound that signals the first kernel flowering open.  After a few more scattered *pings*, a symphony of popping erupts.  Some muscle power then becomes involved, and I stir the kettle until the popcorn quiets down.  Finally, I get to pour the warm popcorn into a smooth silver bowl and lightly salt it.  I then get to share a bowl of popcorn made with love rather than one made by a microwave =)