Thursday, March 4, 2010
I was trying to understand my attraction and obsession with crossword puzzles I have had lately. I snuggled back in bed with tea and pen in hand long before dawn this morning and after a few questions I expected that I would not be able to answer much. I mean really, what is a noted tart thief? Is that from history or nursery rhymes? I press on a few to see if I answer any of the hundred and twenty five questions. A few easy ones come and provide more clues. The tart thief starts with a K now and I surmise that it might be a knave. I fill that in and see if it will aid with the ones around it. The V of knave seems to work with the sea dog’s oath – shiver me timbers…Slowly things are added, written over, filled in until I realize that the puzzle is done. There are a few changes because the clue was misread and some of the answers are only recognizable by me. But it is done. That Is my attraction to crossword puzzles. They are hard, they are frustrating, they don’t always choose the words or spellings that I would. Crosswords can use archaic vocabulary or spellings. But somewhere in my brain, I probably have a file that will recall that a juvenile newt is called an eft or that an Inuit knife is a ulu.. The satisfaction of completing a task I thought impossible twenty minutes before is probably the same reason that I continue to renew my subscription to the paper though I only skim the news now.