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If you've ever shot the breeze, had a heart-to-heart, or bent somebody's ear — in fact, if you've ever talked at all — odds are you've used an idiom. These sometimes bizarre phrases are a staple of conversation, and more than 10,000 of them are collected in the latest edition of The American Heritage Dictionary of Idioms, which came out this week.

The new volume contains hundreds of new entries. Author Christine Ammer tells NPR's Renee Montagne that idioms are added to the book based on how commonly they're used. "I usually go by the frequency with which I hear them used and where I see them used in print," she says. "There are some that simply jump out at you because they're used so often, even though they may be of very early provenance."

More Idiom Backstories

Birthday suit

In 18th-century England, this term referred to the clothes one wore on the king's birthday. Later the phrase was jocularly used to refer to the clothing a baby wore on the day of its own birth — that is, nakedness.

Mind one's p's and q's

This term for "practicing good manners" was first recorded in 1779, but its origin is disputed. One theory cites bartenders who kept track of a customer's bill in terms of pints and quarts, so a conscientious barkeep would "mind" them; in another, children had to be careful to distinguish the mirror-image letters "p" and "q"; in yet another, French dancing masters cautioned pupils to correctly perform the figures "pieds" and "queues," abbreviated or mispronounced into the English letters "p" and "q."

Get on the bandwagon

In the second half of the 1800s, a bandwagon, or horse-drawn wagon carrying a brass band, would accompany candidates on their campaign tours. Eventually the term was extended so that "getting on the bandwagon" meant supporting a campaign or joining a cause.

Dead cat bounce

This term for a quick but short-lived recovery originated in the 1980s. It referred to stock that would rapidly increase in price, but then return to its low price after speculators resold it. Why a "dead cat"? Because if you throw a dead cat at a wall, it will bounce, all right — but it will still be dead.

Pass the buck

This poker-related idiom refers to shifting responsibility or blame. It originated in the mid-1800s practice of passing around a piece of buckshot, or another object, to remind a player that he would be dealing next. The current meaning was established around 1900.

Steal someone's thunder

This idiom for appropriating someone else's idea comes from an actual incident in the early 18th century. Playwright John Dennis rattled a sheet of tin to create a "thunder machine" for his play Appius and Virginia. A few days later, he heard the device used during a performance of Macbeth, leading him to exclaim, "They steal my thunder!"

Adapted from The American Heritage Dictionary of Idioms, Second Edition.

"Let me be honest with you," Risser says. "I was born with a political spoon in my mouth. When I was born I think my dad was district attorney. He was state senator for 12 years. As a kid, I used to help him campaign. I had great love for my dad. I knew I was going to follow in his footsteps."

Risser was first elected in 1956. He says he remembers when the Legislature was made up entirely of white men.

"There were no females, there were no minorities or diversity. In fact, they didn't even have a woman's john on the legislative floor," he says. "Now it's much more diversified, which is good."

Other changes, he finds, are not so good.

"The Legislature is more polarized than I've ever seen it. There are more straight party-line votes than there have ever been. I can remember when the rurals would fight the urbans or the eastern part of the state would fight the western part or the north would fight south. But now it isn't that way," he says. "Now it's Democrats versus Republicans."

Nevertheless, he has no inclination to call it quits. "It's the most frustrating job in the world, but it keeps the adrenalin going and it gets you up in the morning. You learn something new every day," he says. "You see different people every day."

And that seems to keep him feeling younger than 85 — whatever 85 means. Risser says it's just a number, that there are many different kinds of ages: your mental age, your physical age — though most 85-year-olds are not riding 2,000 miles a year on their bikes as he does. And he's kept the confidence of his fellow Senate Democrats to the point that they've elected him Senate president when they've had the majority.

But Risser acknowledges there is one respect in which he's an old-timer.

"I don't have Facebook pages, I don't tweet, I don't know how to text. I'm learning to use my iPhone a little bit, but I don't feel confident even to use email," he says. "I'm from the old school, and I still write things down."

More In This Series

Working Late: Older Americans On The Job

For One Senior, Working Past Retirement Age Is A Workout

Next month brings "March madness" for fans of college basketball.

It's also going to bring Roman Catholic cardinals together to choose a new pope.

Which means, according to Religion News Service, it's time to "make your picks in the Vatican's Sweet Sistine brackets!"

Yes, RNS has put brackets online and is getting folks to pick between some of the cardinals who are thought to be pope possibilities. First round voting — on the 16 "sweet sistine" choices — ends at midnight ET on Friday.

Now, as for advice on how to play the game:

— You could look to those, such as NPR's Sylvia Poggioli, who cover the Vatican. As we reported earlier this month, she has crunched the numbers and concluded it's more than likely the next pope will be a European, just like nearly all the others. Italian Cardinal Angelo Scola, 71, is a leading contender.

— Or, you could look to a source that knows something about bracketology, such as the sports staff at USA Today. If basketball brackets are any guide, USA Today says, "favorites rarely win ... long names are out" and seniors aren't going to lead you to victory. USA Today's conclusion? "That leaves one man. If the papal brackets hold true to form, the puff of white smoke will emerge to name Christoph Schoenborn as the new pope."

— Betting parlors in Europe, of course, are laying odds on which cardinal will become the new pope. You might find some good guidance there.

As you would expect, The Two-Way team's attorney wants us to remind everyone that we are not endorsing the idea of betting — on basketball games or pontiffs.

Many of the articles about Marissa Mayer's decision to ban working from home at Yahoo eventually get around to mentioning that she recently added a nursery to her office.

But this is really not a women's issue. I don't think we should talk about it that way.

Men with families often get a free ride in these debates — and working women without kids often feel they are unfairly saddled with baggage that has nothing to do with their lives.

The real question — the one that matters — for Mayer as a new CEO of a struggling company and anyone with a stake in creating more flexible workplaces is this: Does working from home work?

I clearly have a conflict of interest on this one.

I work 20 paces down the hall from my bedroom. I commute in my slippers. I report to the office about 6:30 a.m. and right now it's 10 p.m. and I am still here, though it is not as if I've been working the whole day.

A colleague recently asked me if I sleep. I do, sometimes right in the middle of the day.

I also routinely sneak off and go for a run — or play ultimate Frisbee. (Don't laugh. In Silicon Valley it might be more useful than golf.) When my daughters come home from school I'm here — I might be working, but I can take a break for violin practice or math homework or to get a hug.

And I can write this because I am productive. And — so far — at least the folks at NPR have liked my work. It works for me because, in the end, the hours balance out — and I am in control of my time.

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