Mi dispiace (literally= my displeasure). Essentially= I’m sorry. I had all the best intentions of writing for Crucial Minutiae from Sardinia last week, but I got swept away (that’s a pun for anyone who knows the work of Lina Wertmüller) by the ocean, the mountains, the endless bounty of delicious eats, and my family full of characters. Plus, I had the added pressure of needing to show off the island paradise to my fiancé and two close friends from New York.

You’re not buying that selling Sardinia was difficult? You must have read the travel section of the New York Times this weekend. Someone let the farmer know how good the cheese is with pears!– that’s the Italian equivalent of someone let the cat out of the bag. In spite of my association with Ethan, I don’t think that the Times got their beat on the vacation scene in Sardinia from my travels back to the fatherland. They probably took their cue from the fact that Tom Creweesay (Italian pronunciation for you) was there with his babe and their baby. No, we did not see them. No one even mentioned them there. So enough celebrity gossip. Now that I’m back, sun-kissed and dying to spend the rest of my summers in the Mediterranean, I will return to the initial aim of this column with some imported dialogue.

“Ha attacato un bottone.” It’s used by my cousin on a weekly basis to describe anyone who takes up too much of his time by talking to him for too long. Almost as foreign to us as telling the farmer about the cheese, this expression calls someone “a button who has attached to you.” I don’t know why, but it makes me laugh every time he says it. Not all of their idioms are this different from our own; they also say “Rome wasn’t built in a day”– although I suppose it’s likely that we inherited that from Italy. Now which country inspired the other to celebrate a bachelorette’s party with an endless supply of phalli, I cannot tell you. I can only attest (since I was actually there to be in my cousin’s wedding) that all of the packaging on the gifts the bride got the night before her wedding were in English!

And now for some more Italian sayings…

Siccome la casa brucia, riscaldiamoci.
“Since the house is on fire let us warm ourselves.”
This, I would say, is less of a “make lemonade out of lemons” and more evidence of Italians’ darker sense of humor.

A ogni uccello il suo nido è bello.
“To every bird, his own nest is beautiful.”
This one goes out to Courtney, who has found her own private nest!

A tutto c’è rimedio, fuorchè alla morte.
“There is a cure for everything except death.”
Again with the dark humor. Reminds me of when my father and I were in a cathedral in Prague. We stood looking at a king’s golden and bejeweled tomb, until my Papa dryly said, “He’s still dead.”

Bacco, tabacco e Venere riducono l’uomo in cenere.
“Bacchus, tobacco and Venus reduces the man to ashes.”
I’ve got to say, I’m not sure that this expression inspires fear in Italy. I’ve returned with a lovely case of bronchitis, which we named the “Pippa Veeruhs” (again, Italian pronunciation), because only my cousins and I got it. And even with a frightening cough, they never stopped drinking or smoking or worshiping Venus!

And lastly…

Sogni d’oro
“Golden dreams” (or sweet dreams)
…I’ve got jet lag.