I was staying at a friend’s house when someone emailed me about an article she was translating from Italian into English which quoted some parts of Rameau’s Niece. The translator asked me to check some passages so that she would not be translating back into English from the Italian what had already been translated from English into Italian, if you follow me. Luckily, there was a copy of the paperback of Rameau’s Niece in my friend’s bookcase. When I opened it up, I was able to find not only the requested passages, but also the traces of real book worms. I like it when the basis of a metaphorical phrase turns up. And I found the holes in the book strangely moving. Here are some blurry iphone pictures of their tunnels, which look very cozy.

I have noticed that instead of hearing “no problem” (the uncooperative taxi driver’s mantra) all the time, I have started to hear a much more spiritually melodious phrase: “No worries.” This is the refrain to soothe the anxious Jew. I thought it sounded laid back and Carribean, but Janet assures me it is Australian in origin. As in, “No worries, Mate.” I’m glad it has migrated here. Welcome.

Woof Patrol (click here), a great site all about, what else, dogs, has a link to a pug doing what all pugs really want to do: clean your computer screen. Go there AT ONCE. Your screen will never look better. It’s a thing a beauty! CLICK HERE!!!

I like antiquated locutions that pop up in everyday life, like signs that say “Inquire Within.” Here is a lovely one posted on in an alley in Venice.

I was walking along the other day thinking of common offensive phrases of my youth. When we dropped pillows from on high we used to cheerfully chant, “Bombs over Tokyo!” Charming. And in the family lore of there is the delightful story of a day at my grandparents’ house, some holiday or other, when my little brother of about two was standing idly petting the wall, which was covered, as I remember, with a pale green fabric. My Aunt Norma said something in Yiddish. Ricky, my brother, said, “What?” And I cleverly said, “She said, Get your cotton-pickin’ hands off the walls.”
So, I was walking along the other day thinking that everything about that incident dated it to the 1950s: The aunt speaking Yiddish in a white clapboard Connecticut house, the child knowing the phrase cotton-pickin’ from our housekeeper, a young black woman from South Carolina name Elle. The wallpaper. Times have changed, thought I. Then, as I was making my daily Doonesbury check, I saw this in the “Say What?” section:
“Not a single one of these cotton…[stammering]…these just ridiculous politicians should be the moderator on the issue of race.”
– Lou Dobbs, on Condoleezza Rice
Now I just have to figure out how to say that in Yiddish.

Hector spent a week at the beach, much of it lolling in the surf, but this is not that. This is a site called wavemypic that allows you to upload pictures of, say, your dog and give it this effect. Thanks, ndozo, as always!