I was held up on the way home from the grocery store (where I bought some Guacamole, which has yet to prove itself) by something involving police cars and fire engines all over the middle of the road. I came almost right up to the mess, because I couldn't see it with the sun slanting in my eyes the way it always does on Union Street, but I got turned around just fine.

The grocery store had brought up the topic of pasta between Reginald Query and myself, and Reginald, having ridiculously expressed "Noodloos" in description of Penne, I of course demanded to know WHAT ON EARTH he was talking about. And what did he have to say for it? Only this: "There is hardly a word that would not profit from an extra double-o." There's a strange logic in it, if you think about it for too long.