The other day I finally got around to making my New Year's clam chowder. You know--the one I was supposed to make for New Year's Eve which got downgraded to spaghetti when I realized just how many youngsters would be coming over and how awful it would be to confront their mutinous glares once they were apprised of the menu.
As it was, my own girls took one look at the chowder and promptly fished out their clams.
Can you imagine?
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact I used whole clams. Have you ever seen a whole clam, dear reader? It looks like Gollum is floating around in your soup.
I didn't use whole clams on purpose, mind you. In case you didn't know, there's a rare strain of beings out there who are literate yet completely capable of ignoring labels. Yes, it's true. And they correlate closely with the demographic who'll open a can and dump its contents into their dinner without inspection.
Watching one's children fish the signature ingredient from a slaved-over chowder while trying to control their gag reflexes does not exactly make for a magical evening, dear reader. It doesn't feel like a home run.
I wonder if it has anything to do with all the bad energy I've been putting into the universe lately?
I wonder if it's in response to my attempt to paint every nuance in the spectrum of taupe on the walls of our new home and then ask my husband to tell me what he thinks.
Incidentally, I suspect he thinks a lot more than what he's telling me.
I wonder if it's in response to giving my daughter super hard words on Hanging with Friends and not feeling even a twinge of remorse when her mascot plummets into a live volcano?
In my defense, this is because of the karma of her messy room.
I wonder if it's because I went running with the death squad yesterday, left them in the dust, and didn't say anything gracious or sporting when they straggled across the finish line?
Listen, it gets tricky with those guys. Karma works in reverse for them. Being gracious and sporting is actually a sign of weakness, which is the last thing you'd want to reveal in their midst.
In wolf talk, that's like saying: hey, look at my broken paw! I'm too old to hunt! You better kick me out of the pack.