Here's what not to do if you are riding your bike, taking off one of your gloves and trying to put your iPod on at the same time when your headphones get all tangled and your iPod starts to slip out of your grasp: try to save the iPod. Know why? Because you will start to lose control of your bike, drop the iPod anyway and fly into a dry canal, where you will hit your head so hard your hat falls off. Your glasses will break, which will momentarily lead you to believe you have suffered severe brain trauma because you can't see clearly out of your right eye. A nice young man in a suit will see you in the ditch, stop his car and help you pick up your overturned bike. You will say, "I'm okay! I'm okay!" to him in Japanese, then as you are riding away, you will reach up to touch your hair and discover there is a giant crispy leaf in it.

You will remember there had been a car coming towards you when you fell. And they didn't even stop.

You will cry when you get home, because your shoulder hurts and you broke your glasses and the hood of your jacket is full of dirt and you just Googled "head trauma" and wasn't that a mistake? But you'll talk to Rob and two of your friends will call and then you'll feel better, just sore and a little mad at yourself.

Remember: forget the iPod.

Today, thanks to my supervisor's guilt regarding my recent injury (she was in a meeting when I called her soon after it happened), I was allowed to go home early. This may come as a surprise, but I didn't use the time to eat and reflect on the two varieties of Chopan I had chosen for this week's Candy Friday. Instead, I played Animal Crossing. And decided I would bring the candy along with me to Nagoya, where I had dinner plans with my friends Liz and Martha, and see what they had to say about it.

We were all excited about the dark chocolate/passionfruit/red pepper Chopan and hesitant about the white chocolate/raisin/cereal, which looked disconcertingly like tiny bowls of granola and milk.

Liz and Martha, the Chopan and BooBee bar.

Some thoughts, as we ate the chocolate on the train platform en route to dinner:

Martha on the white chocolate Chopan: "This tastes like that shit in Quaker Oat bars."

Liz on the dark chocolate Chopan: "The cookie is really flaky. But not in a good way. It's kind of...crusty."

We all preferred the cereal chocolate, which had a sort of orange flavor, making it really taste like a breakfast treat. The red pepper was barely discernible in the dark chocolate Chopan, which was a disappointment. But the real winner of the night was the awesome Thai restaurant we went to, which has the best Thai food I've eaten in Japan and is located conveniently close to a bar called BooBee. Sorry, Chopan, you just can't compete.

On Saturday I headed out to Seki with a bunch of other foreigners, to shop for washi (handmade Japanese paper) and learn how to make origami umbrellas from Chisako, the coolest paper-doll-making teacher in Japan. (Remember her? She taught me how to make this doll and this doll.) After that, we'd learn how to make sushi from her husband, in celebration of Setsubun.

But first...the paper. Oh, the paper. I'd been to Mino for the annual paper lantern festival, but I'd never stepped into its washi shops, probably because I knew I'd go crazy and want to buy everything. But in the end I only took home two big sheets.

I bought the red paper printed with morning glories in the middle.

After lunch (mentaiko pasta, yum!), we went back to Chisako's and trooped up to her craft room to learn how to make origami umbrellas, which look like they might be easy, but are actually ridiculously difficult. Here is a nice picture of the one I made, which only looks nice because you can't see the creased and ugly bottom side:

Really, it doesn't look so great if you peek under its skirts. But I have hope that future umbrellas will look a little better and am spurred on by the fact that Chisako's 80-year-old mother who has suffered a stroke is able to churn out perfect-looking umbrellas made from old calendars. I wish I was an ancient and awesome Japanese grandmother.

Anyway, after the umbrellas, we gathered in the kitchen to learn how to make inari-zushi and maki-zushi from Chisako's husband. The tradition on Setsubun is to eat an uncut maki-zushi while facing the lucky direction of that particular year. This year it was north-northwest.

I'm facing NNW, rest assured. You can see the scrapes on my hand and my nose from the bicycle fall!

You're also supposed to throw roasted soybeans while chanting, "Fuku wa uchi, oni wa soto!" (good luck in, devils out!) which we did right before leaving. Hopefully all this good luck rushing in will help me in my umbrella-making.

(You can see all my pictures from Saturday here.)

Candy like Maffy is the reason I spend an embarrassing amount of time peering closely at all the candies in the supermarket. Were it not for such careful inspection of the shelves, I never would have spotted Maffy's package, with its unassuming colors and rather cluttered layout. But you see, when you wander back and forth between the two candy displays in a store so many times you begin to fear the clerks will alert the authorities, you notice things. Like the words "beauty with marshmallow." And the helmeted marshmallow character with a pointer. And the name. Maffy. Say it out loud. Maffy. Kind of fun, isn't it?

...Maffy.

After taking a look at Maffy's website, I realized there was even more to this candy than the apparently beauty-enhancing collagen- and polyphenol-enriched choco center the little marshmallow man is pointing out. For one thing, Maffy has been around since 2003. Beauty with Marshmallow is the newest series in a product line that boasts the cutest marshmallow candies east of the International Peeps Line. And the cute, big-headed Maffy character? It can be purchased in the toy form of your choice: plush, Kubrick and ginormous cell phone dangly. That's because Maffy is co-produced by Devil Robots, a toy company. Which came first, the jangly or the candy? We may never know.

Okay, okay, you're probably thinking. That's all well and good, but how does it taste? And are you more beauty? To which I reply: have you been taking English lessons from my students? And: Maffy is good! The outer marshmallow is soft and fresh, melting to a foamy goo when chewed, but in a good way, like the layer that develops over a mug of marshmallow-topped hot chocolate. And speaking of hot chocolate, that's exactly what the beauty-increasing chocolate center tastes like.

The combination of marshmallow and chocolate made me also think of s'mores, which is why I had the idea to pop a couple Maffy into my broiler for a few seconds to toast them a bit, and -- oh. Oh, Maffy. Under the brown, toasty outer layer was warm gooey marshmallow and soft chocolate, a combinations of textures and flavors so perfect I'll never eat my Maffy any other way.

My Maffy research has further led me to Junie Moon/Gallery Lele, where the Maffy Hearty Party exhibit will be up from April 25 through May 14. Right now the Luv-able & Hug-able Plush Show is going on. I wish I lived in Tokyo....

As you can tell, Maffy makes me happy. Maybe even hearty. I don't know if it makes me beauty, but with the discovery of toasted Maffy, you can be sure I'll finish off my Maffy quickly and won't have to worry about it turning into a sad brown pile, which is what this sad brown Maffy is warning about:

Maffy!

This was my second year attending the annual Sagicho festival in my friend's small town, a day devoted to burning giant bunches of bamboo festooned with New Year's decorations, small flags and shrimp-shaped decorations in front of the town's Shinto shrine. It is a rite of purification.

It's also an excuse to wear face paint and get extremely drunk. But isn't that nearly every festival in Japan?

Still, there is something special about this festival, with its small-town, friendly atmosphere and blatant disregard of fire safety. This year I was accompanied by Liz, Martha, Carol and Nicole, and the five of us may have been the biggest group of non-Japanese girls the town has ever seen. Everywhere we went, cameras poked in our faces and sake poured down our throats.

Especially once Liz befriended a benevolent, energetic old man who wore a purple happi coat and had the air of a monk possibly excommunicated for his party-animal ways. He gave us frankfurters, takoyaki and festival wear and everytime he poured us a drink, he poured himself two, cackling all the time.

We left the festival with painted faces, happi coats and bellies full of festival food and booze. A great day. Thankfully, we were all spared the fate of being sent out to the gravel pasture where it seemed all the hopelessly drunk festival attendees were laid out to dry. And have their pictures taken by bemused old Japanese ladies.

(You can see all my photos from both Sagicho festivals here.)

A couple weeks ago, a teacher in my office asked if I'd like to sing a duet with the head librarian in the school's farewell concert for the graduating seniors. (The school year in Japan begins in April and ends in March.) Being a fan of previous school concerts, which always seemed to involve silly costumes and over-the-top theatrics, I agreed. I figured I'd be singing a Carpenters or Beatles song. Easy. Right?

Wrong.

The sheet music for "Sotsugyou Shashin" (Graduation Picture) landed on my desk a few days later, lyrics thankfully in hiragana, which I can read without trouble. "It's a famous song, ne?" said the teacher sitting next to me, who then played it for me on his computer, twice. "Rehearsal on Monday, ne?"

At least I thought that's what he said. Which is why I waited until Sunday night to find an MP3 of the song and then sing along with it, twice, sitting in my living room. I was missing a big chunk of the lyrics.

On Monday morning, I tracked down the missing lyrics and thought about how I was probably going to completely suck at this rehearsal. About half an hour before I had to walk over to the gym, the other teachers in my office started changing into various costumes. The teacher sitting next me was wearing headphones, intently singing under his breath. Wow, I thought. They're really taking this rehearsal seriously.

You know where this is going, don't you?

Okay, good, so I won't tell you about how I walked into the gym and saw all one thousand students sitting there, intently staring up at the stage where the actual, not-at-all-a-rehearsal concert was going on. I won't mention my capsized and fast-sinking stomach or the wrinkled sheet of lyrics I clutched in my hand or the hilarious costumes everyone else was wearing while I just stood there in my twill pants and cardigan. You don't need to know about the two rushed rehearsals I had with my duet partner, crammed in a corner backstage.

And then it was time.

In Japan, instead of calming your nerves by imagining your audience in their underwear, you are supposed to imagine them as kabocha, little green pumpkins. I like this much better. I can't say it really helps though.

But I did it: sang the song without embarrassing myself, got some cheers, walked on and off stage without trips, falls or other disasters. Afterward I thought about how I survived something I have probably had actual nightmares about at some point and it really wasn't so bad. I don't think I could say the same if one of my zombie apocalypse dreams came true. Now if only that dream where Rob and I are a crime-fighting team flying around on a magic surfboard with a puppy sidekick would come true already....

The plum trees are blossoming and springtime KitKats are here.

White Peach (Shiro-momo) KitKats are pretty, that is true. The milk chocolate coating is marbled with a pink, peach-flavored white chocolate and the pink and yellow packaging looks fresh and appealing. These would make lovely hina-matsuri gifts or good-luck presents for students taking entrance exams, which is probably what they are intended to be.

Unfortunately, they don't taste very good.

While they are much better than Pumpkin KitKat -- another milk-chocolate-covered KitKat I had a lot of hope for, but which had an acidic flavor that reminded me disturbingly of vomit -- the floral, fake-peach taste just doesn't do it for me. It reminds me of sophomore year of high school and the girls who doused themselves in peach-scented body splash from Bath and Body Works. Or of air fresheners.

While I do understand the KitKat Kollector's Kraze (KKK...K for short) and am not opposed to trying out new KitKat flavors, I still feel slightly disgruntled about it. Of the ten or so special edition flavors I've tried since moving here, only two have been good enough to make me want to buy them again (KitKat Bitter and Chocolatier Strawberry & Nuts). That's an 80% Rate of Indifference, rather dismal numbers for a candy everyone gets so excited about.

...It is really pretty, though, isn't it?

I finally had the time and motivation to sit down with my sewing machine this weekend and make something with all that cute fabric I bought. Ignoring all the creative suggestions you gave me, I chose to instead make an unexciting-but-useful totebag with the postage-stamp canvas.

It does have one not-so-boring detail: a removable inner pocket that I can use on other pocketless totebags. (I despise having to dig around in a giant bag for my lip gloss.) The ties are made with ribbon I bought at the 100-yen store. I can't wait to use this bag all the time once the weather warms up. For now, my bulky winter coat makes totebag-toting kind of annoying.

You may have noticed Giant Jeans Parlor's new Lunar New Year look! Please excuse any weirdness or ugliness for the next week or so; I'm slowly working my way through all the little things that have to be fixed.

It's no secret I love anthropomorphized food characters. I have a special fondness for a certain grumpy-faced radish named Aokubi Daikon. I possess a postcard featuring an angry egg furiously demonstrating how you can turn him into an omelette. And I will buy a candy merely because its mascot is a strawberry wearing a chocolate-brown coat whose best friend is a tiny bottle of milk wearing a scarf. So sue me.

That's not the only reason to buy Pucchoko Ichigo, though. The other is this Japanese candy rarity: the taste actually lives up to the packaging. I already knew I liked Puccho, milky-fruity chews with a rubbery yet yielding texture and reliably appealing packaging. What I didn't know was that dipping a strawberry-flavored Puccho in chocolate would increase both its flavor and cuteness appeal exponentially. Sinking your teeth through the chocolate layer into the chewy strawberry center is a satisfying candy-biting experience on par with eating Kinako-mochi Choco, made even better by gazing at the package while you do it.

Ichigo-chan ga tottemo oishii miruku-chokoretto no kouto wo kimashita. "Little Miss Strawberry put on a simply delicious milk chocolate coat." How can you resist that?

All the pieces are individually wrapped, half of them in packages featuring Ichigo-chan eating a piece of Pucchoko. I love it when food characters are eating one of their brethren. Does that make me a closeted cannibal?

I've already polished off all the pieces in the package and am planning a return trip to the conbini where I bought this -- and soon! Pucchoko Ichigo is a seasonal, limited edition candy. So sad. But there is an almond Pucchoko to try and the Apple-Cinnamon and Custard Cream Puccho flavors sound strangely intriguing. While I know "strangely intriguing" is rarely synonymous with "simply delicious," I still have hope.

(See more Puccho/Pucchoko flavors here. Okay, and one more thing! Look at this amazing page of downloadable Puccho wallpapers, screensavers and notepaper! Ichigo-chan is already on my desktop.)

When I was in high school, before I could drive, most weekends were spent sleeping over at my best friend's house, where we would watch old movies, eat Armenian food and bemoan our apparent lack of sex appeal. Either that, or bemoan the complete lameness of all the boys in our town. These weekends always, always included a trip to the nearby Sav-on Drugs, where we would buy Bonne Bell Lipsmackers and red vines. Since then, I've found it difficult to go to a drugstore and not buy some kind of lip balm. (The red vines I can forgo.) At any point in time, I may own between five and ten different lip balms -- I don't really think this is weird or unusual, though. Is it?

This weekend the addiction was soothed by the purchase of two new lip balms: on the left, a new version ("Platinum Lamé Pink") of the magical lip balm I sent to Mariko and on the right, a balm flavored like Earl Grey Tea. The tea one is so good, kind of sweet and milky and herbal. If it came in candy form, I would most definitely eat it.

And speaking of candy, for those of you who aren't interested in lip balms, totebags or sake-soaked fire festivals, there is now a Japanese Candy Friday-only RSS feed, which you can subscribe to if you are only interested in reading the weekly candy reviews. Please be advised that I will think of you as a bit of a party pooper, but will appreciate your readership nonetheless. Thank you.