A hypothetical

Okay, so imagine you're me, as a little girl. Your daddy is the handsome-est, smartest, tallest, strongest, bestest man in the whole world. Daddy and Mommy are getting divorced, but Daddy assures you that it's not your fault, that it has nothing to do with how he or Mommy feels about you, and that there's nothing that will ever ever be more important to him than you are.

Now imagine you're that same little girl 26 years later. You've met the man you want to spend the rest of your life with, and you want your daddy and your mommy to walk you down the aisle--as is common at Jewish weddings. The 32-year old, engaged you, is out to dinner with your dad and his wife. You and your future husband tell your dad your plans for this wedding processional: the maid of honor (your sister) will walk your stepfather to his seat. The best man (your fiance's brother) will walk your stepmother to her seat. Your groom will come down the aisle with both of his parents, and then you will come down the aisle with both of yours.

Stepmother: "That isn't going to work"
You: "Why not?"
Stepmother: "Your father isn't comfortable walking with your mother."
You: (to Daddy, trying not to cry) "Dad? Why not?"
Daddy: (shrugging) "I'm just not."
You: "You can't suck it up for thirty seconds?"
Daddy: "I understand what you're saying. We'll talk about it another time."
Stepmother: "You think your father's being unfair to you, but he feels you're being unfair to him. It goes both ways."
You: (crying in earnest) "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, and you should keep your nose out of it.
Stepmother: "Now, that's not fair. I'm a part of this family, whether you like it or not."
You: (still crying) "Were you not listening?! I told you I wanted you to be a part of the processional. I'm talking about staying out of the conversation between me and my father."
Stepmother: "Well, I haven't always been treated like I'm a part of this family, and I am. And besides if I'm paying for part of this wedding, I think I should have a say in what happens."
Daddy: "We'll talk about it later."
You: (still crying) "I don't know what there is to talk about. I'm not okay with the symbolism of you walking me down the aisle alone, and it sounds like you won't budge on walking with Mom."
Daddy: "We'll talk about it later."
Stepmother: (to no one in particular) "I haven't always been treated like I'm a part of this family."
Fiance: (raising his voice) "No one is saying you're not a part of this family!"
Stepmother: "Well I haven't always been treated like I am."

Silence.

Stepmother: (to you) "Are we still friends?"
You: "If we were before, we still are."
Daddy: "Shall we go?"

Inside your head, a little girl's voice that's your voice says "I thought there'd never ever be anything that would be more important than me. How can the discomfort of an ex, now more than twenty-five years an ex, be more important than me?"

In the car on the way home, your fiance suggests you elope. Your heart swells with love for him.

Going to the chapel...

That's right. I'm going to tie the knot.

Something's Fishy

My acupuncturist recommends fish oil supplements. He claims the capsules don't do any good, because they send the good Omega3s into your gut, where they have to go through the whole digestive system to get to where you're having problems. He recommends instead that you hold a teaspoon of oil in your mouth for 1 to 3 minutes, allowing the skin in your cheeks and gums to absorb the good stuff. (It sounds disgusting, I know, but the truth is that the oil doesn't smell (or taste) "fishy" until it is exposed to oxygen. It doesn't taste like much of anything to be honest.)

My acupuncturist seems to be a good doctor, so I decided to try this fish oil thing. I've been taking it for several months. About a month ago, I spilled some on the kitchen counter. I try hard NOT to use paper towels in my place, preferring rags that can be reused. The rag that mopped up the spilled fish oil was tossed into the dirty clothes hamper like any other dirty rag.

The next evening, my wonderful boyfriend (who lives with me now), did laundry.

The morning after that, Dave turned to me and said "does the apartment sort of smell fishy to you?"
"Yes," I replied, "I noticed that too. It seems to be coming from our office."
We then followed our noses to a basket full of "clean" laundry that smelled like a rotting cod carcass.

In the past month, we have washed those two loads literally 10 times. We've soaked them in vinegar, in Mr. Clean, in baking soda. We've replaced detergent with vinegar, and put baking soda in the rinse cycle. I even went online and purchased Zero Odor . Zero Odor actually works okay, but you have to really soak the clothes in it, and it's sort of expensive. With a couple of exceptions, both loads of laundry remain fishy smelling. We've decided to select the pieces that are worth saving and trashing the rest.

To make a painfully long story shorter, I will simply say DO NOT LET FISH OIL GET INTO YOUR LAUNDRY. EVER.