I've been on a bit of a skein with the New York Times crossword puzzles. I use the word "skein" advisedly, as it was (in a different context") a word that had me stumped on last Friday's puzzle. To add insult to injury, I had just had a four-day (a tie for "personal best") streak stopped for a most frustrating reason. On Thursday, 4/21, I had already broken the "code" with which (puzzle editor) Will Shortz and his scheming partners in crime delight in trying to confuse us. The puzzle had a "name" ("Tee Time"), itself a kind of a clue, but one that only appeared in the print edition, and not on the digital one I pursue when I'm either traveling or when my wife--the original crossword puzzle buff in the family--has hold of the paper. The key to the clue, which was essential in solving four cross-the-page puns was that a "d" had been strategically located in place of what--had it been a "t"-- would have changed the meaning of the answer to the clue to something more familiar. Permit me a maddening example or two: The clue to 57-across was "Fishing boat at summer camp." The answer was "Childrensdory" ("Children's Dory"). But, if you say the answer aloud, it sounds like "Children's Story," a play on words with a different meaning. One more example: 41-across was "Counterfeit Dodge." Now, "Dodge" is capitalized, which makes one think of either the City, or the car (as opposed to "avoidance," as in "tax dodge"). The answer was "Falsedart" ("False Dart"). Once again, substitute the "t" for the "d," and it becomes "false start." Anyway, these are the kind of games Shortz & Co. begin playing with us long about Thursday (and sometimes, alas, on Wednesday's). Okay, so you get the idea. I'd gotten everything else on the puzzle, but was stumped on a lousy three word answer to the clue "Vitamin World competitor." All I could think of was "QVC," which I thought stood for something (turns out it's a home shopping network, but not a vitamin place.) This left me with a "q" to begin the answer to 48-down, "nervous and apprehensive." I first thought "quirky," but knew that wouldn't cut it. I then thought the only way I could answer the question was to use the "rebus" function to have parts of one word going across and another going down (in the same box). If this makes no sense, welcome to the club. Late week puzzles frequently have clues whose answers snake around corners (e.g "steams" going across to one corner and "ship" going down). In another example of how they mess with our heads, sometimes two or three letters will grace a single box (e.g. o-r-ang-es going across and "s-t-r-ang-er" going down. As they used to say on SNL (abbreviated answer to a frequent clue), my wife hates when that happens. I've learned to live with it. Long story Short(z), it turned out to be a straight across and down answer. The vitamin competitor was "GNC," and the nervous & apprehensive one was "gunshy"("gun shy"). This was not particularly difficult, but I was so sure they were playing with me to have different letters going across and down, that I failed to pursue the obvious. Fair enough.
The next day, I began a new streak--unusual-- because I rarely solve Friday's puzzle. But, lo and behold, even though I was stumped on 11-down, whose clue was "Crocheter's purchase," I stuck with an answer that made no sense. All the other "across" answers fit to spell out "skein." Well, I semi-cheated and looked up "skein," which has an additional meaning than "streak." Seems it also means "ball of yarn." Okay, I was off and running on a new streak, unfortunately beginning on a very tough day and the day before the toughest day of the week, Saturday.
Let me pause to tell you how I got bitten by the bug. My late brother-in-law always worked on the Sunday puzzle (about the same difficulty level as Thursday, but longer). Dick would do the puzzle accompanied by a dictionary, something my wife has always eschewed. When I retired, the first puzzle awaiting me in my copious spare time was the Monday puzzle. I got through it pretty quickly and boasted to Riki that these puzzles she struggled with weren't so hard after all. She (who never deigned to work on a puzzle before Wednesday) said "just wait," and--of course--she was right. I soon realized that I could count on solving Monday and Tuesday pretty quickly and (sometimes) Wednesday. The rest of the week--fuggetaboudit! On one particularly trying week in which Riki had multiple doctor's appointments, I solved my first Sunday puzzle. It was only the hours spent in waiting rooms that made this possible, and I was rightly proud. Since that time, I've become pretty solid through Wednesday, with off and on success on Thursday and Sunday. But, to my surprise, my Friday breakthrough encouraged me enough to complete Saturday's. I only checked the dictionary (or Google) to confirm answers once I had what I believed to be the only one that "fit," but didn't recognize the word. In the past, I would never have done that. But once my answer was affirmed, I stayed with it. What I would have done if the answer had been proven wrong I don't know. Fortunately, that was not the case. If that be cheating, I plead guilty.
The problem with the Times's puzzles is they sometimes ask for answers to questions that you only know if you know (and cannot be guessed). If, for example, they ask who was Secretary of Agriculture under President Eisenhower, you either know it or you don't. (Come on, kids, it's Ezra Taft Benson, as anyone old enough to remember him knows.) But if it's the name of Dr. Dre's second album of 2006 and you're over, say, 55, lots of luck! Sometimes, you can glean it from other letters you've already answered that criss-cross it, but if--as sometimes happens, that is the answer to 1-down, you're in for a tough time. Fortunately, here it was an "across" clue, so I had answers to other "down" questions with which to compare it. Unfortunately, the clue was "stat," which looked either like a typo, or some synonym for "statistics," such as "figure." The only answer that fit was "atonce" (at once). I stuck with it and happily discovered that "stat" meant "right away."
Bottom line, the puzzles are challenges to make people think. Most of the time, most of the answers lurk somewhere in that mass of ganglia and neurons we call a memory bank. Although we usually "know" the answers, we just can't always dig them out. You must also be sensitive to different meanings. When the clue is, say, "class," do they mean it as "category," "caste," " place in school," or "style" (as in "class act)?" These, of course, are the things that make the puzzles either fun, challenging, maddening, or all three.
My streak, by the way--and the reason behind this blog--is that I've done six days in a row, (and 9 out of 10). This is far better than my previous "skein" of four (there, I've said it again.) Tomorrow--Thursday-- would be (for me) a dazzling achievement of seven consecutive days, since I'm not likely to hit the Friday-Sunday trifecta again.
Keep your fingers (and words) crossed.
Aftermath: As predicted, my streak ended today (Thursday, April 28th), "not with a bang but a whimper. " The puzzle gods would simply not let me solve the puzzles seven days in a row. There were some answers that simply did not fit with others, even though I was sure of certain words that would have (otherwise) answered the clues. Here's how they did it; and, for me, this was a famous (or infamous) first. Some of the answers were straight across (or down) and others were spelled backwards (or, if, down) upside-down. This was all of the left side of the puzzle, and a little bit of the right side. In other words (pun intended), without rhyme or reason. An example of but one of these zingers was a two word answer to a writers reference. It was (and this was my first thought) "Rogets Thesaurus" Thesaurus was 17-across, and spelled "forwards" and Stegor (Rogets backwards) was 27-across. The clues for each referred to the other. Here's another: you might think that if you knew "London theatre district" was "West End," and that didn't fit with other words criss-crossing it, why not spell it backwards, since everything else on that side was backwards. But it was just backwards across, not down; although the top left half was both backwards and upside down. If this makes no sense to you and you're wondering why anyone would bother with such nonsense, you simply don't know what it means to be a puzzle addict.
But this I will ask Mr. Shortz. What's a nine-letter answer to the clue "X-rated body of water?" As he will doubtless, and quickly respond, it's "dirty pool." My sentiments exactly.
The next day, I began a new streak--unusual-- because I rarely solve Friday's puzzle. But, lo and behold, even though I was stumped on 11-down, whose clue was "Crocheter's purchase," I stuck with an answer that made no sense. All the other "across" answers fit to spell out "skein." Well, I semi-cheated and looked up "skein," which has an additional meaning than "streak." Seems it also means "ball of yarn." Okay, I was off and running on a new streak, unfortunately beginning on a very tough day and the day before the toughest day of the week, Saturday.
Let me pause to tell you how I got bitten by the bug. My late brother-in-law always worked on the Sunday puzzle (about the same difficulty level as Thursday, but longer). Dick would do the puzzle accompanied by a dictionary, something my wife has always eschewed. When I retired, the first puzzle awaiting me in my copious spare time was the Monday puzzle. I got through it pretty quickly and boasted to Riki that these puzzles she struggled with weren't so hard after all. She (who never deigned to work on a puzzle before Wednesday) said "just wait," and--of course--she was right. I soon realized that I could count on solving Monday and Tuesday pretty quickly and (sometimes) Wednesday. The rest of the week--fuggetaboudit! On one particularly trying week in which Riki had multiple doctor's appointments, I solved my first Sunday puzzle. It was only the hours spent in waiting rooms that made this possible, and I was rightly proud. Since that time, I've become pretty solid through Wednesday, with off and on success on Thursday and Sunday. But, to my surprise, my Friday breakthrough encouraged me enough to complete Saturday's. I only checked the dictionary (or Google) to confirm answers once I had what I believed to be the only one that "fit," but didn't recognize the word. In the past, I would never have done that. But once my answer was affirmed, I stayed with it. What I would have done if the answer had been proven wrong I don't know. Fortunately, that was not the case. If that be cheating, I plead guilty.
The problem with the Times's puzzles is they sometimes ask for answers to questions that you only know if you know (and cannot be guessed). If, for example, they ask who was Secretary of Agriculture under President Eisenhower, you either know it or you don't. (Come on, kids, it's Ezra Taft Benson, as anyone old enough to remember him knows.) But if it's the name of Dr. Dre's second album of 2006 and you're over, say, 55, lots of luck! Sometimes, you can glean it from other letters you've already answered that criss-cross it, but if--as sometimes happens, that is the answer to 1-down, you're in for a tough time. Fortunately, here it was an "across" clue, so I had answers to other "down" questions with which to compare it. Unfortunately, the clue was "stat," which looked either like a typo, or some synonym for "statistics," such as "figure." The only answer that fit was "atonce" (at once). I stuck with it and happily discovered that "stat" meant "right away."
Bottom line, the puzzles are challenges to make people think. Most of the time, most of the answers lurk somewhere in that mass of ganglia and neurons we call a memory bank. Although we usually "know" the answers, we just can't always dig them out. You must also be sensitive to different meanings. When the clue is, say, "class," do they mean it as "category," "caste," " place in school," or "style" (as in "class act)?" These, of course, are the things that make the puzzles either fun, challenging, maddening, or all three.
My streak, by the way--and the reason behind this blog--is that I've done six days in a row, (and 9 out of 10). This is far better than my previous "skein" of four (there, I've said it again.) Tomorrow--Thursday-- would be (for me) a dazzling achievement of seven consecutive days, since I'm not likely to hit the Friday-Sunday trifecta again.
Keep your fingers (and words) crossed.
Aftermath: As predicted, my streak ended today (Thursday, April 28th), "not with a bang but a whimper. " The puzzle gods would simply not let me solve the puzzles seven days in a row. There were some answers that simply did not fit with others, even though I was sure of certain words that would have (otherwise) answered the clues. Here's how they did it; and, for me, this was a famous (or infamous) first. Some of the answers were straight across (or down) and others were spelled backwards (or, if, down) upside-down. This was all of the left side of the puzzle, and a little bit of the right side. In other words (pun intended), without rhyme or reason. An example of but one of these zingers was a two word answer to a writers reference. It was (and this was my first thought) "Rogets Thesaurus" Thesaurus was 17-across, and spelled "forwards" and Stegor (Rogets backwards) was 27-across. The clues for each referred to the other. Here's another: you might think that if you knew "London theatre district" was "West End," and that didn't fit with other words criss-crossing it, why not spell it backwards, since everything else on that side was backwards. But it was just backwards across, not down; although the top left half was both backwards and upside down. If this makes no sense to you and you're wondering why anyone would bother with such nonsense, you simply don't know what it means to be a puzzle addict.
But this I will ask Mr. Shortz. What's a nine-letter answer to the clue "X-rated body of water?" As he will doubtless, and quickly respond, it's "dirty pool." My sentiments exactly.
No comments:
Post a Comment