Some things take a long time to simmer before they come to a boil. I have been watching my wife do crossword puzzles for 15 years. In the last week, the bug bit me.
When we were courting, her ability to do the Sunday NYT puzzle, in ink, was one of her qualities that won me over (I have a thing for brilliant women). Sometimes she asks me for arcana that I know more of than she (Jupiter moon, beginning with G?), and I feel a momentary thrill of equality. Then, a few weeks ago, I started looking at her unfinished puzzles (there aren’t many), and finding I could sometimes fill in a corner. All by myself.
A week ago, I worked on a Merle Reagle puzzle, over the course of a day. And I finished it. All by myself. I left it on the table (LOOK! in black marker), so that she might notice it in passing and I could get a pat on the head.
Now I’m grabbing the lifestyle section of the newspaper before Robin and poring over unfinished puzzles at lunch. I call up Elly ("Spanish literary figure, 3 letters"), I look through atlases, I cheat and go to Google and One-Across. When Robin’s around, she clues me in on the words whose only function in the English language is to appear in crossword puzzles. There’s a ton of those. (Movie dog? The answer is always Asta.)
The New York Times ones are still out of reach (though I got most of a Monday puzzle last week). The Sheffer puzzle, on the same page in the Seattle P-I, is the baby level puzzle for the likes of me. There is a unique thrill, which I’m now getting is the whole point, of seeing an array of words suddenly cohere into a completed pattern. Where a shift of logic, usually aggravating, leads to the answer.
I so don’t have time for this.
Does this mean that you are no longer impressed with my crosswork solving ability? Or that you're more impressed?
Posted by: Robin Shapiro | May 11, 2007 at 12:46 PM