Puzzling It Out

It’s my son’s fault that each day I wasted an hour solving NYT puzzles.

A subscription to the digital publication while recuperating from foot surgery triggered my addiction. Restricted to the couch for weeks, I dove into the complete “Friends” series. I craved a faux Joey meatball sandwich from Subway, learned the lyrics to “Smelly Cat,” rooted for a different ending to Ross and Rachel’s relationship, and ordered cleaning supplies from Amazon as if channeling Monica. When I responded “Can I GET any more bored?” with a Chandler (RIP Mathew Perry) emphasized answer to my son’s “How are you feeling?” question, he worried that my TV binged brain would leak out my ears.

Hence, the NYT digital subscription.

Gateway Puzzle

The Mini Crossword’s “Solve in Seconds” claim lured me in. Although seconds ticked into minutes, I typed in “hush” and “shh” solving the “Keep it down!” clue (both across and down orientations). “Hush” led to “Dutch” (answer to the “Language in which you might wish someone ‘Goedemorgen’” clue). Then I figured out “Det” (“Police dept. title).

I used “Check” selecting the “Word” option after each ventured guess. That way I knew if I should continue building on the inputted word. (I figured it wasn’t cheating. The drop box would have been listed as “Cheat” instead of “Check” if it were.) In the process of completing the Mini Crossword, I learned that “Outro” meant “Closing part of a song.” (I hoped learning something new kept my brain from liquifying.)

Although I finished the puzzle in more than a few seconds, but less than an episode of “Friends” the “Crack Clues” challenge of “The Crossword” was off-putting. My son, who is WAY smarter than I am, mentioned that these puzzles became increasingly difficult as the week progressed. He worked them all. 

I figured Sunday’s puzzle would take longer than it took Chandler and Monica to become a couple even if I used the “Cheat” (I meant “Check.”) option.

Then I found Wordle.

Wordle, Master Mind’s Cousin

According to legend, Josh Wardle, a Welsh software engineer, developed Wordle the five-letter word game for his girlfriend, Palak Shah, during the Covid crisis. The pandemic sequestered most of humanity who then sought diversions like scrubbing kitchen cabinet hardware with a toothbrush (me) and plinking a keyboard purchased on Facebook Market Place using porch pick up (Mike) when we weren’t hosing down groceries. (Since then, the cabinet pulls have lost their sheen, the abandoned keyboard has remained silent, and the groceries have dried.)

Wardle reported that he and Palak solved NYT crossword puzzles for entertainment which led to the birth of Wordle. Although that may have been the case, I suspected an alternate scenario. One of them found and played the vintage board game Master Mind while visiting with “bubble” friends and/or family. Master Mind subconsciously inspired Wordle. (That happened with George Harrison’s song “My Sweet Lord” and the Chiffons “He’s So Fine.”)

Regardless of Wordle’s origin, the coded word puzzle teamed with the Mini Crossword to waste my morning. However, my girlfriends, Cindy and Gisela, also played Wordle.  Each morning, we shared our results. 

Solving Wordle had evolved into a commitment.

Interestingly enough, our daily score communications expanded into the “So what’s up with you?” category. I learned that Cindy used the strategy of eliminating letters to narrow down Wordle choices and that a bobcat had perched on her Tucson garden wall. Or Gisela thought there were too many possibilities for a decent Wordle score and that her granddaughter had enjoyed whatever vegan recipe she’d prepared. I’d share that my starting word of “drove” came about because I drove to Wisconsin to visit my granddaughter and then shared a photo of us dressed as super heroes.

Solving the Mini Crossword and Wordle became a manageable waste of time.

Then I found Connections.

Connections, Tribond’s Cousin

After improving my time in Mini Crossword and using only three choices to solve Wordle I stumbled upon the Beta version of Connections. In Connections the player sorted sixteen words into four equal categories with four mistakes allowed. 

“I’ll only try it once,” I told myself. “It’s not as if I’m HOOKED on these games.”

I was wrong. The line and sinker followed the hook. Connections was similar to Tribond, a board game that I enjoyed decades ago and harassed reluctant victims (I meant friends.) to play with me. Connections I played alone. . . at least for a while.

Sharing my Connections’ enamor with Adela, a writer friend, spawned daily Connections’ score reports from her. My friend, Chris, made the Wordle to Connections leap as I had. Then Cyd, another friend, mentioned that she played the category word game as well. 

As with my Wordle group, daily score reports included tidbits of my friends’ lives as well. Adela had been editing her new book, but could meet for breakfast. Chris had been traveling with her husband to Scotland, but I piqued her interest in a girls’ getaway. Cyd had been gathering the tax information for the accountant, but would more than enjoy a cocktail visit.

Everyday Epiphany

Mini Crossword, Wordle, and Connections became a morning ritual with Spelling Bee more of a habit. 

This daily waste of time had morphed into a welcomed ritual and a good habit. These games provided a way to check in with my friends, to keep in touch.

I had my son to thank for that.

I’m considering the challenge of “The Crossword,” the one my son solved each day. I believed it was “Friends” Season 4, Episode 6 “The One With The Dirty Girl” where Rachel finished a crossword puzzle by herself.

If Rachel can do it, I can do it!

Check out my book, Operation Hopper.