Dear God, I hope you saw what I ate today.

Humor me a moment.  Please.

I spent a long time in Iwate in the spring shortly after the tsunami hit almost 300 miles of coastline in Japan.  The memories I have will take a lifetime to tell.  One memory, however, can be explained very quickly.

Since returning from Japan in late-May, I have not eaten fish.  To clarify, I have not eaten fish that stare back at me.  I eat sushi and sashimi.  Hands down.  No questions asked.  If it doesn't look like a fish I'm fine.  Anything with a face, body, and tail, however, I have to skip.  There's a reason for this.  I saw, stepped on (guts spewing onto my boots), and smelled black, dead, rotten fish for months.  These fish washed up into homes, on the street, on top of cars, inside of cars, and simply put, could not be avoided.  Having seen and smelled these, eating anything that resembled these creatures has been a no-no.  I just can't.

So, today as I made my way to the Ofunato Sanma (saury) Festival held at the foot of Tokyo Tower, sponsored by the City of Ofunato, attended by 12,000 people, I wondered how I would avoid having to partake in eating this one-foot long fish that resembled those dead things I stepped on months ago.  I was pretty sure there would be no way to avoid having to eat one.  I was right.  (Not that this makes me happy, mind you.)

I ate it.

I avoided looking at the eye socket.  I picked at it, not looking at how black it was.  All this to say, Dear God, I really hope you saw what I ate today.  And, if there is such a log as "good deeds done today" and "bad deeds done today" I hope you put a big gold star next to my "good deeds" column for the day.

Thanks.