My inner 8th grade self holds tightly to this memory. Our class had taken a scenic trip to a local seaside town whose name I cannot recall. Southern California is filled with lovely coastal adventures. Ah, we were meant to visit a marine life aquarium. Yes, that was it.

It was impressive given its apparent state and lack of life. Blood gleamed on my ring finger tip as a mortified Chinese woman apologized profusely. It was the near conclusion of my endeavor to curate the necessary ingredients for my hot pot. Driving my son to swimming class, I struck an intense craving for the dual broth delicacy on the freeway off-ramp while avoiding a recently deceased raccoon.