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WPC #6

This week’s photo challenge, from Monday’s word of the day at

woebegone \WOE-bee-gon\, adjective:
1. Beset or overwhelmed with woe; immersed in grief or sorrow; woeful.
2. Being in a sorry condition; dismal-looking; dilapidated; run-down.


I know, I know. It doesn’t seem to fit. It needs context.

Every Thursday evening we have our small group over to share a meal together and discuss the week’s sermon. Everyone pitches in and brings a part of the meal. This week’s theme was Southern Food- we had Fried Chicken from Ezell’s (which is at the end of our street), complete with fried chicken livers (good, really). Jonathan brought drinks. He told me ahead of time he would be sure to bring something I couldn’t have an wouldn’t want. Being pregnant, it must be such a hard temptation to give up beer (his logic). So he found this. Bud Lite and Calamato.

Do you know what that is? Cheap beer and Clam juice. Yup, with red coloring.

Apparently a very Southern/Texan/Spanish traditional beverage. Jonathan is from Atlanta, he would know. Of course it opens up a deep and meaningful string of conversation, as 4 guys all share a pint and the girls turn their noses up. They all agreed it tasted like salty Bud Lite.

Who thought of this?
What exactly is clam juice?
How do you juice a clam?
Why is it red?

See, I am deathly allergic to shellfish. So logically, this drink, with it’s natural flavor and certified color, would kill me in about 15 min. Jonathan was right, I didn’t want it and couldn’t have it. Woe is me. Despite it’s flashy graphic can, there seemed to be a deeper and less idyllic origin to this. It got me thinking as to what kind of a person would actually find this drink la combinacion perfecta. Given it’s Southern and apparently Spanish ties, I envision (stereotypically) some dilapidated fishing shack in Florida in a community of socio-economic strain and a multitude of non-English speaking and improper-english speaking weathered old men deciding they liked the refreshing taste of fermented rice and seawater enough to make this a staple concoction do drown sorrows in. And it is red (do clams bleed when squeezed?).


So here is a glass raised, to the woebegone, the inventors of this fine beverage, sure to grace any fine liquor establishment with sagging porches and electric fans for that refreshing escape from humid, hot afternoons and dismal prospects.

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