Nuggets of Gold!

PLAYING WITH NEEDLES

I've been thinking lately that I'd like to pick up a new hobby. Something creative. Something ... crafty!

So after giving it some thought and doing some research on the Internets, I decided to try embroidery. Which is not the same as cross stitch or needlepoint. It's all freeform and whimsical. No counting, which is key. Counting is too much like math, and math makes my brain hurt. Another thing that drew me to embroidery is it has plenty of room for "happy little accidents," as Bob Ross would say. A screwup can easily (most times) be turned into an "I meant to do that." Perfect!

So here's my first stab (get it? Needles? Stab? I told you I needed a hobby ...) at embroidery:

It was basically just the result of practicing a bunch of different kinds of stitches on a piece of scrap fabric. But I think it turned out kind of pretty. Especially considering I didn't use a pattern at all -- just kind of winged it. This thing is full of happy little accidents, but never mind. It's a garden with a few more flowers than I'd intended, and that's OK. I feel that Bob Ross would approve.

SOMETHING LIKE HOMESICKNESS

Slowly but surely, I can feel the essence of Japan slipping away from me. A favorite Uniqlo shirt ruined by an oil-splattering kitchen mistake. Now it's gone. My last piece of lime-mint Xylitol gum. A calendar made from washi paper, this month on its last page. Japanese words vanishing from my memory. Kana letters, too.

I realized this week I can't quite remember the taste of a mikan. Though I remember vividly that it was wonderful. And I'm acutely aware that tangerines and clementines available in America just don't quite live up.

I like to believe that the friends I made in Japan will never slip away, but I've had to make the transition from seeing those friends every day, or at least several times a year, to knowing it may be several years before I see them again. Just the same as when I moved away from D.C. to go there, I guess. Just the same for anyone who moves from one place to another. But just because you've done it before doesn't mean it stops sucking. Conversations over e-mail just aren't the same as conversations over beer.

But mostly it's the overall feeling of being there that's slipping away. The scary but exhilarating feeling of shedding everything familiar for a setting that's completely exotic. The comforting feeling of finding that same things are the same everywhere, because we are all human. The pride in yourself from knowing you've stepped outside your comfort zone, that you've left what's easy to try something that's hard. And the pangs of looking at your own country from outside, and really seeing it, warts and all.

I'm happy to be back in the U.S., don't get me wrong. But I guess the fact is that part of myself is always going to be in Japan. And not just the part I puked up on Mount Fuji.

THERE OUGHT TO BE A LAW

'Tis the season, journalistically speaking, of a constant stream of holiday-themed stories and photos. Holiday shopping, Christmas parades, tree-lightings, mall Santas, charity drives -- you name it, we cover it. Because it's what's going on.

And, in print anyway, each of those stories and photos requires a headline. Before long, you've made every possible play on Christmas carol lyrics, and so have all your colleagues. And thereby, through the horror of cliche, Christmas is ruined. Ruined!

But luckily -- or unluckily, if you're stuck writing a Christmas headline and can't think of anything BUT a cliche -- some of the great minds of copy editing (that's right, some of us have great minds, too, in addition to all that glamour and prestige) have come up with a list of naughty cliches that will doom a journalist to a stocking full of eyerolls.

It's a great guide, and at my place of employment, it's the law. Yes, Virginia, we're just hoping the jolly old elf won't take it personally as we ring in the new year, with all the trimmings.