Sotto Voce.

In memory of the late, great Douglas Adams and in bottomless appreciation for his contribution to literature (the recent movie notwithstanding), today we celebrate Towel Day. So grab a towel and take pride in your hoopy frood-itude and honor the man who showed us how to appreciate the wonders of the universe on less than thirty Altarian dollars a day.

And in the spirit of that other late, great icon of free speech — fair use — here are the opening paragraphs of my favorite of Adams’ books:

That evening it was dark early, which was normal for the time of year. It was cold and windy, which was normal.

It started to rain, which was particularly normal.

A spacecraft landed, which was not.

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A few days ago, Mary Jo discovered that a dove has made a little nest in one of our windowboxes out of few scraps of cotton and some plastic-looking stuff. The little visitor doesn’t seem fazed by our continued curiosity — “You know those city doves,” Mary Jo observed. “Cars, motorcycles, people throwing bottles. They’ve seen it all. Nothing scares them.”

Yesterday Mary Jo carefully watered the plants in the windowbox and took pains to avoid pushing her luck. She succeeded; the dove was very accommodating as Mary Jo carefully watered around where the bird was happily hunkered down. At one point, she did get a little water on the bird’s tail, and the bird got up and moved out of the way. That’s when Mary Jo glimpsed two tiny, startlingly white eggs in the nest. So our houseguest will soon be a mommy.

I’m sure we’ll be among the first to know when the little ones hatch. Hopefully doves prefer to emerge into the world after sunrise.

Apparently I have some latent parenting instincts, because I started wondering aloud whether we should get some dove food (whatever that might be) for both mommy and the kids when they arrive. But Mary Jo proclaimed her confidence in Mommy Dove’s ability to look after her own, and I have to agree with her.

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Last night, after the exhilerating Write Here, Write Now Alumni Reading, I was talking with Gregg Wilhelm, president of the CityLit Project when he coined a new Web 2.0-ish buzzword — bludos, for “blog kudos.” In keeping with the trend toward ever-decreasing life cycles for webstuff, the buzzword flashed into being, blazed its path of glory, and burned itself out before anyone had a chance — or even a need — to freshen our drinks.

In memoriam, then, here we recap the brief but glorious life of bludos:

8:35:30 — Gregg first utters the word “bludos.” The other people in the conversation approve of the term and try it out in assorted sentences.

8:36:10 — First use of “bludos” as a verb, also by Gregg, as in: “He bludoed me.” Conversants explore the use of the term in various tenses (e.g., “He would have been bludoing.”)

8:36:53 — First use of “bludo-” as a prefix, as in “bludorific,” “bludacious,” etc. Conversants explore, and then quickly exhaust, the possibilities.

8:37:27 — First ironic use of “bludos” in air quotes.

8:37: 45 — “Bludos” declared to be “so 8:35.” Conversation moves on.

Farewell, bludos. We hardly knew ye.

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Overheard, Penn Station, Baltimore:

“Is Mommy getting loaded in the car?”

Overheard, Penn Station, Baltimore:

“Can you connect me to a beauty salon, please?”

Seen, 17th Street & Pennsylvania Ave., DC:

A jovial looking man with a striking resemblance to Santa Claus, though in an impeccably tailored long black wool coat and pinstripe suit and black leather gloves, chatting amiably with several people outside the NEOB. Then he makes his farewells and heads out to the street. Under his arm is a stack of copies of the President’s 2007 Budget. He gets into the passenger seat of a white SUV labeled “ARLINGTON NATIONAL CEMETERY,” which merges smoothly into the traffic and disappears.

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