Can puppies be identical twins?

Who's asking: Hayley Ehrenfeld, Cambridge, MA

Dogs are born in litters of anywhere from one to 15 puppies. The average size is between three and six puppies. These puppies are usually not identical to each other; each puppy starts as a separate egg and develops with its own placenta. In fact, puppies within a litter can even have different fathers (something I learned only recently), so they can look very different from each other.

For many years, people assumed that puppies were always fraternal twins. Fraternal twins (like my sister Kathy and me) are no more like each other than any other siblings.

In fact, puppies can be identical twins, but it's rare. Identical twins come from a single egg (monozygotic), and have the same DNA. Various environmental factors can make them look slightly different from each other, just as with humans. My younger sisters, for example, are identical twins, but even when they were younger, no one who was paying attention had trouble telling them apart.

Do politicians realize how slimy they become to get elected, and does it bother them personally?

Who's asking: James Lamb, Virginia Beach, VA

My brother James says he has gone on a news fast until after the election, but still can't avoid the advertisements on the History Channel. "This whole election has really started to bother me," he wrote. "I am going to vote because I feel it is my duty but I don't want to vote for any of them."

I feel the same way, and I think a lot of people do -- but to answer your question, no, I think most politicians don't feel they're being "slimy" on the campaign trail. If they felt that way, they couldn't keep campaigning; self-consciousness and shame would overwhelm them, and they'd have breakdowns on the trail.

Most politicians start out idealistic and become pragmatic, even cynical, over time, as their political careers become not callings but jobs. Many, if not most, politicians look at political campaigns as extended job interviews, and what we see on a campaign trail is interview behavior, magnified to a grotesque degree.

Experienced politicians often end up sounding just like each other because they all hire the same small group of media consultants, who coach them on their public appearances. Each consultant has his or her different style, but their wisdom boils down to a few bits of practical advice you can see on every Sunday morning TV show:

1) Look directly at your interviewer, but try to show a three-quarter profile to the camera, because that's most flattering.
2) Keep your chin and your voice down.
3) Begin each interview knowing one to three points you want to make, and don't let the interview end until you've made those points.
4) If you get a question you don't want to answer, answer the question you wish they'd asked instead.

There, I've just saved you all $500 in media training expenses. Feel free to send me a check.

But the result of all this media training is that we rarely see candidates have an actual conversation with anyone. Candidates' public appearances become interesting only when they forget their training and make a mistake -- so reporters, bored out of their minds at the 20th robotlike stump speech, fall all over each other to hype the smallest gaffe. This just makes candidates even more determined to stay "on message," offering no sign of weakness or originality.

It's a bad system. I wish we could go back to the old days of politics as live entertainment, when people would turn out for debates on a Sunday afternoon instead of staying home to watch football on TV.

Sorry I didn't post yesterday, but it's not going to get any better over the next several days. This week is a perfect storm of overcommitment, and posting will be haphazard. I've tried to figure out how to activate the RSS feed option, but it didn't work -- if you know how, send me an e-mail.

Why doesn't my hair feel clean when I rinse it with soft water?

Who's asking: Again, Anna Bragdon

Hard water is water with dissolved minerals in it; soft water is cleaner and purer, without these minerals. Soft water rinses cleaner and doesn't leave mineral deposits behind, which is why people with hard water and dishwashers often add something to the rinse water so their glasses aren't spotted. Soap lathers better in soft water, and soft water doesn't leave any residue behind on your skin or hair.

So it's counterintuitive that many people used to hard water, like Anna, say they don't feel as clean after a shower with soft water. It happens for a couple of reasons.

The first may be that people used to hard water habitually use more shampoo and soap, because it doesn't lather as well. It takes longer to rinse clean because you're using more soap than you really need.

The second is simply that human skin and hair are naturally oily. Hard water washes these oils away, requiring us to replace them with conditioner and moisturizer, but if we used soft water we might not need so much of those, either.

The reading list is short this week because I'm swamped with clients' manuscripts. Since I missed it Wednesday, here's an abbreviated random iPod list to make up for it:

"It's Going to Take Some Time," Dishwalla. This is from If I Were a Carpenter, a brilliant album of Carpenters covers.

"Marrakesh Express," Crosby, Stills & Nash. I'll get to Morocco someday.

"Smells Like Teen Spirit," Nirvana. I should make a CD now of the songs I will still want to listen to when I'm 80. This would be on it, and that does not embarrass me at all.

"I May Be Wrong," Hoagy Carmichael. This song was on the CD Brian & Scott gave out at their wedding reception last weekend. "I may be wrong, but I think you're wonderful..."

"Maybe it's Imaginary," Kirsty MacColl. This CD (Electric Landlady) did not leave my CD player for more than a year; it disappeared mysteriously, and I've only recently replaced it. Now it's in heavy rotation on my iTunes.

What I Read This Week

Sean Doolittle, The Cleanup. Last year's Rain Dogs was one of those books that made me excited to read the author's next work, because he was obviously sharpening his skills for something great. The Cleanup more than delivers on that promise; it is a realistic, compassionate, absolutely gripping thriller in the very best noir tradition. Disgraced, recently-divorced cop Matt Worth has been busted down to night patrol at an Omaha supermarket. The only bright spot in his world is Gwen, a quiet, pretty checkout girl who often has bruises she won't explain. One night Gwen tells Matt she needs to show him something. First she shows him the evidence of a near-fatal beating -- and then she shows him the dead body of the man who did it. Matt decides that Gwen won't pay for this crime, and takes it on himself to dispose of the body and the corpse's car. What Matt doesn't know is that the car contains something a lot of people want very badly. Doolittle lays out a complex plot so clearly he could be an architect, and every character rings true. Bravo.

Stephen King, Lisey's Story. This book is getting the most mixed and vehement reviews of King's long career, and I understand why; it's not his usual fare, and yet it's so unmistakably King's work that shallow people don't know what to make of it. Lisey Landon is the widow of bestselling, award-winning author Scott Landon, and left with the responsibility of sorting out and giving away the overwhelming contents of his office. The people who want Scott's papers are getting more and more aggressive, and one of them is outright deranged. As Lisey fights him off and deals with her own sister's mental collapse, she draws on her memories of life with Scott for strength and guidance -- even though some of those memories are frightening, and some seem downright insane. Lisey's Story is a powerfully intimate book about marriage and imagination, a brave gift from a writer who's never gotten the respect he deserves.

Are there any babies in Shakespeare's plays?

Who's asking: Anna Bragdon, China, ME

My knee-jerk response to this question was, "Oh, sure" -- but when I went looking for infants in my Collected Shakespeare, they were pretty hard to find. It makes sense, I suppose, since even women didn't perform on stage on Shakespeare's time.

As far as I can tell, the only Shakespeare play that calls for a baby on stage is The Winter's Tale (Act II, Scene iii). Paulina enters with the baby Perdita, who is banished from her father's court because her father, King Leontes, thinks she's someone else's child. Shakespeare mentions the baby Queen Elizabeth, though not by name, at the end of Henry VIII, but we don't see her.

The Winter's Tale also has a speaking role for a child (Perdita's older brother, Mamillius, in Act II, Scene i). The only other plays with roles for young children seem to be Richard III (with a girl and boy who are children of the murdered Duke of Clarence and the doomed young princes who are sons of King Edward) and Macbeth, in which Macduff's son has lines.

I consulted my old friend John Erath, who knows much more Shakespeare than I do, and he came up with a few more possibilities. The "groaning Juliet" in Measure for Measure could have a baby in arms at the end of the play; Titania in A Midsummer Night's Dream has a "lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king," who could be a baby. Shakespeare's plays often have crowd scenes, so if a proud parent wanted a child to make an early Shakespearian debut, it could certainly be as a carried-on extra.

It's entirely possible that I've missed something, so if you can think of any other small children in Shakespeare's plays, post it below.

To continue the theatrical theme, I invite everyone in the Augusta area to come out for Gaslight Theater's production of The Mousetrap, which opens tonight. Performances run tonight and next Thursday at 7:30, this weekend and next weekend at 8:00 p.m.

Is it appropriate for George Allen to make James Webb's novels an issue in the Virginia Senate campaign?

Who's asking: Peter Schleck, Washington, DC

If you've been watching any U.S. news in the past week or so, you've seen some of the recent manufactured uproar over scenes in novels written by James Webb, candidate for the U.S. Senate from the commonwealth of Virginia. Apparently, campaign workers for George Allen had been trying for weeks to get reporters to focus on passages in Webb's novels that they consider demeaning to women, and particularly on one scene in which an Asian peasant takes his four-year-old son's penis in his mouth as a gesture of affection.

Responsible media outlets ignored these attempts until Matt Drudge blasted it on his website, at which point the story became the controversy and "outrage," not the passages of the books themselves.

Peter asked, "Whaddya think?" and I think the whole thing is disgusting, from beginning to end.

First, novelists make stuff up. To ascribe the viewpoint or behavior of a fictional character to an author is ignorant at best and lunatic at worst. I just finished Stephen King's latest novel; in one particularly harrowing scene, a deranged man takes a can opener to the main character's breast. Do I think that Stephen King endorses this behavior, or has fantasized about doing this himself? Hell, no. (In fact, I wish Stephen King was running for Governor of Maine -- he'd be a better choice than any of the official candidates. But that's another post.)

Second, this manufacturing of outrage -- and then pandering and weaseling to deflect the outrage -- has got to stop. It's exhausting, it demeans everyone involved, and it cancels out the effectiveness of genuine outrage in the few situations that call for genuine outrage (e.g., Abu Ghraib, inadequate death benefits for military families, the terrifying national debt).

On the subject of cheap and easy outrage, let's talk for a minute about John Kerry's slip of the tongue yesterday, when he said that kids who didn't do well in school would end up stuck in Iraq. He says he didn't mean to say that -- what he meant to say was that kids who didn't do well in school would end up getting other people stuck in Iraq -- but the manufactured outrage over this remark hides some deeper, bitter truths that we ought to be talking about, rather than shouting about who loves our soldiers more.

The first of these truths is that the U.S. as a nation is stuck in Iraq. The second of these truths is that individual soldiers (including some of our best and brightest) are stuck in Iraq, held there past the terms of their original enlistment because no troops are available to replace them. The third of these truths is that educated or not, many of our young people are stuck in Iraq because there are no jobs for them at home, unless they want to work for hourly wages without health benefits.

Why aren't the candidates talking about these things? Why didn't John Kerry take this opportunity to say, "Yeah, I misspoke, but let's talk about this"?

I'm disgusted, disgusted with all of it and all of them. For God's sake, everyone, figure out what you're really outraged about, and go vote next Tuesday.

Is it true that Ireland and Maine are the only places in the world that have no venomous snakes?

Who's asking: James Lamb, Virginia Beach, VA

My brother James says he remembers Mom or Dad telling him this when he was about 12, preparing for a Boy Scouts trip to Maine (this might have been the trip on which he got caught in a Native American border war, or it might have been a different one -- I was no longer living at home then).

Anyway, it's one of those fun facts that I wish were true, but it's not -- quite. It is true that Maine has no native venomous snakes, and Ireland (famously) has no snakes at all. But Alaska and Hawaii don't have poisonous snakes, either, and Iceland and New Zealand are both snake-free.

Because snakes are cold-blooded, you find them mainly in temperate and tropical zones; the closer you get to the poles, the rarer they become. In cold climates, they survive the winter by burrowing and brumating.

Snakes don't bother me much. In fact, since snakes eat rats, which do bother me, I feel rather kindly toward them; I wouldn't have one as a pet, though.

Happy Halloween, y'all. Dizzy has a snazzy Halloween bandanna, and I am sallying forth in my usual costume as a normal human being.

What does the name Ellen mean?

Who's asking: An anonymous Googler from Columbus, OH

The name "Ellen" is one of almost 80 variants of "Helen," from a Greek word meaning "shining light." Clair, my middle name, means "clear or shining," and is also the French word for light. My twin sister's name, Kathleen Ann, comes from Greek and Hebrew words that mean "pure grace of God."

No comments are welcome on whether these names are appropriate for us, thank you very much -- but I've always liked having a name that means "light." Not to get too high-falutin, but I think about my favorite passage from Ulysses, from the section known as "Ithaca":

His mood?
He had not risked, he did not expect, he had not been disappointed, he was satisfied.

What satisfied him?
To have sustained no positive loss. To have brought a positive gain to others. Light to the gentiles.

You can put that on my tombstone, when the time comes.

You might have seen on the news that we've had some major winds up here in the Northeast; almost 40,000 people in Maine still didn't have power this morning. My electricity's working, thank goodness, but flying into the Portland Jetport yesterday morning was pretty harrowing.

The pilot had been flying fairly high, to avoid the winds, and came in to the runway too fast. We had to do a touch-and-go and fly around the airport for another try, which meant passing through the winds on the way down, on the way up, and then on the way down again. I've never been airsick, but yesterday was a close call.

How long have you lived in this neighborhood?

Who's asking: Yesterday's cab driver, a native Eritrean who's been in Washington since the early 1980s

The cabdriver was bringing me from Dupont Circle to Ashton's place on Johnson Avenue, about seven blocks east. I usually walk from the Metro, but it was pouring rain and the cab was right there.

He asked me this question, and rather than explain that I don't live here any more -- I just visit from time to time -- I said, "Since 1995," because that reply seemed to me to be as true as any other.

Realtors call this area Dupont East; technically, I think it's Shaw. When I moved into the house at 15th and S, a block away, in 1995, the neighborhood was marginal. Ashton, Joseph, Anna and I used to sit on the front stoop and studiously ignore the comings and goings at the crack house across the street. The week I moved out of that house, Ashton & Joseph had to come over to help me dispose of a rat that had died under my kitchen sink (Joseph will be my hero forever, for this reason among many).

What a difference a decade makes. This neighborhood is now one of the coolest in town, with great restaurants, funky shops, and a Whole Foods in walking distance (we used to have to shop at the Soviet Safeway on 17th Street, which at the time was small, dark and not very clean. The presence of Whole Foods has made them clean up their act, too.)

I love coming back here, but it always makes me a little sad. I couldn't afford to live here any more, but some part of me will always call this neighborhood home.

This afternoon we're celebrating the connubials of our friends Brian & Scott. I'm just hoping any of us remember the event in the morning.

What do you think about NANOWRIMO, and will you be particpating?

Who's asking: Chandra, from somewhere in Maine (but I don't know where -- are you still in the bus?)

Easy part of the question first: no, I won't be participating. I'm too busy cleaning up other people's novels, and November is going to be crazy for me (in a good way).

For the uninitiated, NANOWRIMO is National Novel Writing Month, a national program that encourages participants to produce a 175-page novel (50,000 words) between November 1 and November 30.

As the NANOWRIMO website says, "It's all about quantity, not quality," but the founders say that's a good thing: "By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes."

Can you tell I have mixed feelings about this? On the one hand, it's great to get people writing. I absolutely agree that the crucial part of writing anything is getting the crummy first draft out of the way, so you can start fixing it.

A best-selling novelist I admire tremendously said to me recently, "Writing books is the one thing everyone thinks they can do. I never meet anyone who wants to be an amateur computer technician, or an amateur brain surgeon. But everybody's a writer."

I sympathize with that point of view (boy, do I), but I think the more valid comparison is to cooking, or to music. People who are enthusiastic cooks would never dream of claiming to be chefs; they limit their enthusiasm to experimenting at home and cooking for friends, and only the most obnoxious expect every effort to be applauded.

In the same way, I say that if you like to write, write for yourself and your friends -- but don't force unsuspecting people to read it and don't expect to be taken seriously as a professional, unless you're willing to pay some dues and learn the craft. That means multiple drafts and serious, sustained effort, not a gimmicky sprint like NANOWRIMO.

If NANOWRIMO helps you kickstart a book that's been lingering too long in your imagination, terrific. But if you're participating in NANOWRIMO, please do not assume that what you have at the end of the month is publishable, or worth attention from anyone but your family and closest friends.

Oh, and one more word on amateurs vs. professionals. The gifted amateur quite often does better work than the professional; what distinguishes the professional is 1) sustained effort over time and 2) someone pays them. If you're considering publishing your own book, please keep this in mind.

What I Read This Week

Martin Edwards, The Arsenic Labyrinth. A classic British mystery about a long-missing woman whose body is found inside an old arsenic mine. DCI Hannah Scarlett, responsible for cold cases, hopes to resolve this one quickly -- but next to the woman's skeleton is an even older one, and a fresh corpse soon joins them. The book incorporates several intertwining narratives, with varying degrees of success; a profile of a con man is terrific, but the memoir of a long-past murderer is just confusing. This book will be out next January.

Stuart Woods, Short Straw. This sequel to Santa Fe Rules is considerably better than that book (which I consider Woods' weakest). Santa Fe lawyer Ed Eagle wakes up one morning to find his beautiful wife gone, with a few million dollars of his money. He tracks her down, but soon discovers that she's hired people to kill him. Nastily entertaining, unapologetically misogynistic, and sharply satirical about the idea of civilized divorce.

Bill Buford, Heat. This book is what made me think of the connection between writers and cooks. New Yorker editor Bill Buford fell in love with the idea of learning to cook professionally, and apprenticed himself in the kitchen of Mario Batali's restaurant Babbo. After a year, he needed more, and went to Tuscany to learn to be a butcher. I carried this book around with me for three days, reading it at stoplights, while waiting in lines, and during pauses in rehearsals. Must-reading for any serious student of food (and aren't we all?).

When and how did the word "cheesy" come to mean something not about cheese?

Who's asking: Tom Ehrenfeld

Ah, cheese. Like Wallace, I love it in all its forms. Edible cheese is something I've only learned to like as an adult; as a child, I wouldn't touch it.

Cultural cheese, though, I've always loved. The Oxford English Dictionary has included the word "cheesy" since its Second Edition, meaning "inferior, second-rate, cheap or nasty;" the metaphor is of something that looks pretty but smells bad. The Third Edition adds our more common usage, of meaning something "hackneyed, unsubtle but neverthless appealing in a sneaky, wish-it-wasn't kind of way, and usually applied to entertainment." The OED credits this meaning to American English, and dates it back to at least the 1950s.

For something to be truly cheesy -- as opposed to campy -- it must be entirely sincere and free from irony. A good example would be the Eccles Dinosaur Park in Ogden, Utah, which supplements its perfectly respectable fossil exhibits with lurid plastic replicas of dinosaurs that kids can climb on.

I am something of a connoisseur of these cheesy tourist attractions, and would really like to be able to quit working altogether and just spend my time visiting them. If you'd like to subsidize me in this effort, please get in touch.

Since I didn't list the Five Random Songs yesterday, here's this morning's edition:

"Be Young, Be Foolish, Be Happy," The Tams. The all-time classic beach music anthem. Suddenly, it's not late fall in Maine; it's early summer in Virginia Beach.

"From Me to You," The Beatles. I just watched A Hard Day's Night again, after getting it from Netflix. What a joyful movie, and this song has that same kind of joyful optimism.

"Rhythm of the Blues," Mary Chapin Carpenter. I wish Mary Chapin Carpenter was my sister, or maybe just a really good friend. We could hang out. She could give me advice.

"Knock on Wood," Eddie Floyd. The original version of a song that's been covered too many times.

"This Room," The Notwist. The first time I heard this song -- German electronica about doomed love -- it stopped me cold. It still gives me chills.

What exactly is writing "talent"?

Who's asking: Paul Tomme, Arlington, TX

Paul's full question was: "What exactly is writing 'talent'? Is it pure imagination? Is it skill with language? Is it having something to say based on life experience?"

The question came up in response to my saying that I have trouble with the industry that's sprung up to support and encourage aspiring writers. I can't help but feel that truly talented writers don't need the gadgets and seminars, and the gadgets and seminars don't help writers who don't have any talent.

I'll stand by that -- in general -- although, in much the same way that my pal David Baerwald says that anyone who can speak can sing, I will say that anyone who can speak can write. Not everyone can write well, but everyone can write adequately. It's just a matter of keeping it simple. If you're not confident about your writing skills, keep your sentences short and your words shorter. Subject, verb, object.

Description is never as important as character and action: who's your hero, and what is she/he doing? If you're writing nonfiction, stick to what your senses tell you; don't speculate about what anyone's thinking or feeling, about what happened earlier or what might happen later.

A story starts with a main character who wants something or needs something, or needs to react to an external event. What happens next is the body of your story. How your hero solves his problem or achieves his desire is the story's end.

"Talent" is being able to translate large amounts of information, whether it's narrative or emotional, into a story that entertains or enlightens people. The greatest writers translate universal truths into humdrum details: how to flense a whale, for example, or what the streets of Dublin smell like.

Although I'm wary of many writing programs, the discipline and feedback of a good writers' workshop or writers' group are invaluable to writers who are still experimenting with voice and technique. Finding a good workshop or a good writers' group is like finding a therapist; you click or you don't. If you find yourself in a bad one, you need to cut your losses and get out fast. But "bad" does not mean "critical", and too many writers quit workshops because they're not willing to learn from criticism. (A bad writers' group is one where criticism is given or taken personally, where members are not working on a similar level, where one or more members take up a disproportionate amount of the group's time, or where people feel obligated to give each other only "support.")

I suppose all of this is a long way of saying that "talent" in writing, as in anything else, is a determination to improve your skills. You do that by writing and asking for feedback, not by reading a how-to book. It comes easier to some people than to others, but even "talented" writers have to keep working at it.

Why do television shows have so many producers?

Who's asking: Kathy Miller, Jacksonville, FL

As I've said before, the secret of Answer Girl's success is knowing the people who have the answers. I passed this question on to my old friend Gary Fleder, currently shooting a mid-season replacement series ("October Road") for ABC.

"Producer" is a catch-all title that can mean anything from the creator of the show to the person responsible for hiring guest directors. Except for distinctions like "executive producers" (the show's creators) and "associate producers" (possibly the network personnel responsible for supervising the show), you can't tell whether a "producer" is someone who hires and fires, a staff writer, or something else.

If a series has a permanent writing staff, as most series do, those writers are usually credited as "producers" for each show, with individual writing credits going to whoever took the lead in drafting a particular script.

A long-term contract may specify that someone receives a producer credit for a given period of time, whether or not that person remains involved in the show. Thus, a long-running show like "The Simpsons" includes producer credits for people the current writing staff have probably never even met.

Today's post was late due to yet another computer emergency -- the sudden inability of my new laptop to read my external hard drive. As it turned out, the problem was just that the hard drive had a screw loose. Keep your comments to yourself.

What is the median household income of Kennebec County, Maine?

Who's asking: A market-research firm I choose not to identify, one of my clients

The most recent Census data (2003) gives the median household income in Kennebec County as $38,458, with an average household size of 2.38 people. This is a good bit less than the US median household income of $43,318, but the average US household is slightly bigger (2.59 people). Any way you count it, however, Kennebec County is poorer than average, even for Maine.

That's yet another reason I can't object to deer hunting season, which opened yesterday. People hunt for food here, and the hunters who have too much venison donate the excess to local food banks. Venison makes good stew and even better chili. And there's no denying that the deer are overpopulated; a large doe crossed the road just in front of me on Friday night, and you can't drive I-95 this time of year without seeing carcasses along the highway.

A friend said the other day that what he objects to about deer hunting is not the killing, but the suffering: the idea that a deer might only be wounded instead of killed outright. That troubles me, too, but that suffering can't be worse than starving to death, or bleeding out in a ditch.

Sorry to be so morbid this morning, but the weather's dreadful, and my lingering cold has turned into a rattling cough. Tis the season to be morbid.

Is it beautiful in Maine right now?

Who's asking: Pat Marshall, New York, NY

Right here, right now, yes, it's beautiful: the sun is shining, the sky is clear. I think Pat was actually asking about the leaves, which peaked a couple of weekends ago. Yesterday's weather was dire (temperatures in the 40s, wind, rain, even some lightning) and today has been very windy, so most of the leaves are gone.

It was so windy this morning that my side of town lost power for a couple of hours, which is why this post is late. Not knowing how long the power would be out -- and not getting anything but a busy signal from Central Maine Power -- I took off to run errands for a while.

It was a relief to get home and find the power restored, but now I have to reset all my clocks -- and since I never remember how, that means digging out all my small appliance manuals. I wish this could have happened next weekend, when we have to reset the clocks anyway.

How did "hello" become our standard greeting?

Who's asking: JJ MacMillan, Austin, TX

"Hello" is a great word, if you think about it. It can hold an entire spectrum of human emotions; take a minute and, in your mind, hear it said by Mae West, Greta Garbo, Jerry Seinfeld, Ben Stein, Mike Myers. Now go and listen to "Smells Like Teen Spirit" a few times. (I recommend the Tori Amos cover, in addition to the Nirvana original.)

But the origins of "hello" are a mystery, and all answers are speculative at best. The American Heritage Dictionary says it comes from hallo, which in turn comes from the old English holla, which means "stop" -- or from the old French hola, "hey there." Other theories believe it's some corruption of words for "hail," "health," or "how are you."

Shakespeare uses "halloo," as a hunting call; Dickens used "hullo" as a greeting. Instances of "hello" in print date back to 1826, and Mark Twain used the word in his travel journals.

Thomas Edison gets the credit for instituting "hello" as our telephone greeting; apparently, Alexander Graham Bell thought we should say "Ahoy." (In Russian they say, "Slushayu," which means, "I'm listening.") "Hello" on the telephone caught on so fast that telephone operators were known as "hello girls" even before the turn of the last century.

I've done a lot of reading this week, but the vast majority of it has been clients' manuscripts. I only finished one published book this week, but it was good.

What I Read This Week

Craig Johnson, The Cold Dish. Linda Brown and I spent a good chunk of Bouchercon hanging out with Craig and his fabulous wife, Judy; the man has good taste in rental cars, cowboy hats, and women. I felt ashamed that I hadn't read his first novel, especially since it was one of The Mystery Bookstore's bestsellers of last year, and got raves from everyone else on staff.

It's such a relief when authors I like in person turn out to be good writers. The Cold Dish introduces the aging sheriff of Absaroka County, Wyoming, Walt Longmire, a widower who's letting himself disengage from his life and his work. The efforts of his friends and colleagues don't do as much to wake him up as the murder of a young man. The victim had been convicted of a horrifying sexual assault a couple of years earlier, and Walt's own best friend is one of many with a motive for revenge. The Cold Dish is not only a good crime novel, it's also a classic Western, set in modern times, and a darn fine book in any genre. I've already ordered the sequel, Death Without Company.

How many people died in Katrina? And should they rebuild the Ninth Ward?

Who's asking: Anna Bragdon

Anna and Tarren just got back from New Orleans, where they were flabbergasted by the devastation. It's the kind of thing you can't really get your mind around until you see it in person, and I haven't; Anna took photos, which you can see on her blog.

The official death toll from Katrina, according to the National Hurricane Center, stood at 1,833 earlier this year. It may continue to creep up, as several hundred people remain missing. The vast majority of the dead -- 1,577 -- came from Louisiana, and most died not in the storm itself but in the surge that followed.

The storm surge that broke the levee wiped out New Orleans' Ninth Ward, and more than half a million people are still displaced. I won't even try to say whether the Ninth Ward should rebuild; whether or not the levee's repaired, doesn't it seem insane to rebuild below sea level?

The FDIC and NeighborWorks America will hold a three-day summit next week to discuss the challenges of rebuilding housing in the Gulf Coast region. Maybe they'll have some answers; for more information, click here.

What are 15 verbs to be found in the word "congratulations"?

Who's asking: An anonymous Googler from Burnaby, British Columbia

Look at that, I just turned the verb "to Google" into a noun. English is a fantastically resilient language. The strangest things bring people to my blog; two people in the last week have landed here by searching for "Kilmarnock stripper named Paris." I'll never do the research on that one, so those folks will need to get used to disappointment.

I strongly suspect that today's question was a homework assignment, but since it caught my imagination, I'll lift my usual rule about not doing people's schoolwork. (More than one person has tried to hire me to write their master's thesis. In case you're wondering, no, I won't take those jobs, not even to get my poor dog the hip surgery he needs.)

Without spending much time on this, I found 21 verbs in the word "congratulations," and you guys can probably find a few more. Leave them in the comments section. Mine are: cart, clout, coast, count, cut, grant, grout, grunt, last, long, lust, nag, scan, scar, scout, scorn, star, stun, tail, tour, and turn.

First five songs off the iPod Shuffle this morning:

"Oh Happy Day," Edwin Hawkins. When I lived in Alexandria, Blessed Sacrament's choir used to do a great version of this song. On the grayest day, it lifts me up.

"Rikki Don't Lose that Number," Steely Dan. Steely Dan is one of those bands that people should be able to agree on, no matter what their musical taste. They just sound great.

"I Got You," Split Enz. Another automatic mood enhancer, the perfect description for that first nervous, slightly nauseated in-love feeling. (If memory serves.)

"Grady's Song," Francine Reed. Straight-ahead, old school R&B. I love the horns on this song. Horns in popular music are always good (see: Steely Dan).

"Dry River," The Knitters. The Knitters are John Doe, Exene Cervenka, Dave Alvin and bassist Johnny Ray Bartel, and they play rockabilly versions of country music standards. It's nothing but a good time.

Under what circumstances are you cranky?

Who's asking: Matt Prager, New York, NY

Among other things, car trouble makes me cranky, and I am rushing out the door to the dealership right now. (Yes, again. Quiet back there. This car is paid for, dammit!) Therefore, instead of putting up a regular post of my own, I invite you to participate in my friend Matt's research project.

He is trying to chart the times and circumstances of bad moods through a new blog, The Mood Clock. You can participate by leaving the particulars of your own latest bad mood in the comment sections of his posts. (He might be changing the format, but for now, that's how it works.)

Matt is one of the smartest people I know, and you need have no fear about putting yourself in his hands. Click and play.

Why do Boston Red Sox fans sing "Sweet Caroline" at home games?

Who's asking: Rebekah Giannini, Richmond, VA

As Rebekah notes, the Red Sox are not the only team whose fans sing this song, but the song has become associated with them, in particular. The movie "Fever Pitch" showed Fenway Park fans singing along, and we minor-league fans at Hadlock Field sing it, too.

The "Sweet Caroline" phenomenon is a good example of how new customs can be created so quickly that no one even remembers a time before they existed. "Sweet Caroline" has only been a staple at Fenway Park since 1998, when the stadium's music director, Amy Tobey, started to play it at random times between the seventh and ninth innings -- but only when the Sox were ahead. In 2002, the team's new management asked her to play it every game, in the eighth inning. It's been an official tradition ever since.

What's great about "Sweet Caroline" is that everyone can sing along even if they don't know the words; the words are dumb, but even so, everyone can sing "Ba ba BA!" between the lines of the chorus.

I don't really care about this year's World Series. Many, many years ago, I rooted for the Detroit Tigers because my then-boyfriend did, and I rooted for the Mets because the Tidewater Tides (as they were then known) were the Mets' AAA affiliate. But now the Orioles have acquired the Norfolk Tides, and I haven't heard from that old boyfriend in a very long time, so I have no stake in these games. Bring on college basketball.

Is it possible to overdose on Vitamin C?

Who's asking: Me

Well, yes and no. Vitamin C is a water-soluble vitamin, so the body excretes what it doesn't use; nevertheless, an acute overdose can cause various stomach and intestinal discomforts.

Because Vitamin C affects the absorption of other vitamins and minerals, chronic overdoses of Vitamin C can deplete the body of stored calcium and copper, and cause over-absorption of a particular type of iron. Pregnant women who take massive doses of Vitamin C can actually cause "rebound scurvy" in their babies, once the babies are born and suddenly deprived of those vitamin levels.

All that said, however, the four doses of Emergen-C I took yesterday (a total of 4,000 mg, vastly above the recommended daily allowance of 75 mg) have brought me back to the land of the living. The Theraflu might have helped, too, or maybe the cold has just run its course; but at least today I've been able to keep my eyes open and get a couple of things done. Hurray for Vitamin C!