Two Little Nothings

Two anecdotes for the day:

1. A student shared a "joke" with me today:

God was talking to a Chinese, a Brazilman, and an American and asked them, "Who do you want to live with most?"
The American replied, "A dog."
The Brazilman replied, "A football."
The Chinese replied, "My family."

Uhhh.....hahaha?

2. All day I've been trapped by an undefinable nostalgia--something tugging at the corners of my memory at every turn of the walk to and from class. At first I just thought I was melancholy with the lack of sun...but that didn't quite hit it...until finally I realized that it had something to do with the smell of the air. I'm sure I looked a little silly walking to class sniffing here and there...but I knew it reminded me of something....something familiar to my childhood...something that was once a part of my life on a daily basis. I was sure of it. It finally hit me:

The air smelled like cross-stitch.

All those days of patient stitching when I was a kid--copying my mom and pretending to be a finishing-school student of the Colonial era (like Felicity from the American Girls)--all those trips to the embroidery aisle of the craft store, choosing among 36 varieties of green threads. The prick of a needle. The cramped fingers. Choosing patterns with mom. It all came rushing back to me in an instant. I don't know if it's the embroidery floss or the hole-y fabric or both--but there was an obvious cross-stitch smell...and for some reason, it filled the air of Wuhan today. It made me miss my mom.