Friday, 10/9/09

NYT 4:52
CHE 3:38
LAT 3:24
BEQ 5:12 when I gave up on 2 squares, which eventually came to me
CS untimed
WSJ 8:24

David Quarfoot's New York Times crossword

Yay! A new David Quarfoot puzzle! If you know his work, you got what you were expecting: A crossword filled with lively phrases and names, with plenty of Scrabbly letters in the mix. There's so much juicy stuff here. To wit:

• 1A. [Composer of a famous ring cycle] is J.R.R. TOLKIEN of The Lord of the Rings. Not Wagner's musical Ring Cycle. Is it fair to use "composer" to mean writer?
  
• 15A. COUNT BASIE—full name counter stands at 2. He was the [Musician with the 1939 hit "Jumpin' at the Woodside"].
  
• 17A. [Drugs, say] are CONTRABAND. Glad this isn't the verb.
  
• 28A. Fresh clue for SARIS. I didn't know [They're usually worn over petticoats].
  
• 30A. MR. OCTOBER is Reggie Jackson, the [All-time strikeout leader's nickname].
  
• 44A. SPEEDO isn't just a skimpy little brief—it's also the [Maker of the LZR Racer suit] seen in the Olympics.
  
• 46A. I think we've seen DEAR SANTA in the puzzle before, but aww, what a sad clue: [Letter greeting never read by its intended recipient].
  
• 55A. PASEOS are [Scenic walks]. If you've been a San Antonio tourist, you've probably strolled the Paseo del Rio, or River Walk.
  
• 61A. PETE SEEGER, the [Musician called America's Tuning Fork], was a childhood favorite of mine. My sister and I loved this kiddie folk album. (Actually, it was an old record with about half of those songs on it.) If you've got preschoolers in the house, pick up this album. (Full name counter moves to 3.)
  
• 67A. MASS EXODUS is a great phrase, but I wouldn't want to be in one. It's the [Result of a hurricane warning, maybe].
  
• 1D. JC CHASEZ used to be an ['N Sync member], but the group disbanded in 2002. Is he still somebody, or a has-been? (Full name #4.)
  
• 2D. Terrific clue for ROOMMATE: a [Joint letter?]. A different kind of letter's in the SPAM clue, 56D: [Unwelcome letters].
  
• 7D. KABOOM! That's a [Big blast].
  
• 8D. ISADORA Duncan is the [1968 Vanessa Redgrave title role]. No last name in the grid, alas. Same with 33D, ELLA Fitzgerald, [Self-titled album of 1969].
  
• 11D. "IT'S A BOY!" are [Words on some blue balloons].
  
• 12D. [Hit makers?] clues THE MOB. I wasn't expecting the definite article and had the mystifying TH*M*S for a bit.
  
• 22D. Who doesn't love WETNAPS? They're [Messy meal handouts].
  
• 31D. [Cooler fill] clues CONS because convicts fill the "cooler," or prison. I wonder how many people had CANS here.
  
• 42D. DR. SEUSS counts as a full name (#5!) because that was his byline. ["Oh Say Can You Say?" author] is the clue. I'll tell you this, squeezing five full names into a freestyle crossword is not common.
  
• 43D. Hah! ST. KITTS is the [Island with the capital city Basseterre]. Wish I'd known that yesterday when I did the Sporcle quiz for North American capitals (including Central America and the Caribbean islands).
  
• 46D. The [Blue Demons' home], of course, is Chicago's DEPAUL University. My parents met there, and I grew up watching DePaul basketball.
  

I had a big "huh?" moment with 27A. Were you hoping for a fresh clue for EBOLI, like ["Don Carlos" princess]? Or were you hoping not to see that answer at all?

This one settled in at the usual Friday level of toughness for me. How about you?

Cathy Allis's Chronicle of Higher Education crossword, "Roman Numerals"

Oh! Another Cathy Allis crossword. Seeing her name in the byline spurred me to go print out the last couple GeoPuzzles from National Geographic. (October's puzzle is about the Sahara and September's is orchids.)

The theme's got nothing to do with I, V, X, L, C, D, M Roman numerals—instead, it's the numbers used in modern Rome, in the service of puns:

• 17A. SERVING TRE (3) is [Waiting on a group at a Roman trattoria, perhaps?]. Pun on "serving tray."
  
• 28A. [What a double chorus could sing in a Roman church?] is OTTO (8) PARTS. Four members in each chorus, times 2. Pun on "auto parts." If you know a man named Otto, please do not think about his PARTS.
  
• 46A. [They might be found in a Roman hotel suite?] clues DUE (2) BIBLES. "Douay Bibles" is something. It's a "translation of the Bible from the Latin Vulgate into English."
  
• 60A. "Has one's say" turns into HAS ONE'S SEI (6), or [Equally shares a dozen Roman doughnuts?]. If I'm going to have my six doughnuts, it's going to take a concerted effort to eat them all.
  

Rome came into play elsewhere, too. LATIN is 52A: [Source of much legalese], ET TU is 23D: [Ides rebuke], ERAT is 23A: [Part of QED], and the TOGA is 50A: [Forum wrap]. Scooch over to France for ADIEU, or 26D: [Farewell], and to partially Francophone Canada for 45D: [Former Canadian Prime Minister Lester] PEARSON. Head back to Europe for ODESSA, a 33A: [Ukraine port], and the TSAR, or 55D: [Ruler's title derived from "Caesar"]. Then head down to the Middle East—EL AL is 13D: [Matmid Frequent Flyer Club airline], the RIYAL is 30D: [Saudi coin], and everybody's near Turkey. I wasn't sure which IRA* country I needed for 14A: [Neighbor of Turkey]—IRAQ or IRAN? It's IRAN here, but down at 59A, the other [Neighbor of Turkey] calls for IRAQ.

Dan Naddor's Los Angeles Times crossword

I love this "GO crazy" theme. There are five familiar phrases to which you can append a GO and completely change the gist of the phrase:

• 16A. [Tropical fruit that grows underground?] clues CAVE MANGO (caveman).
  
• 21A. [Church game played with cans and bottles?] is not a churchy variant of "Spin the Bottle" but rather, RECYCLE BINGO.
  
• 37A. SOUTHEAST ASIAGO is clued as an [Italian cheese from the Florida Keys?]. Who knew Southeast Asia and GO could combine so pungently?
  
• 44A. [Fled what was once Zaire?] is ESCAPED CONGO. This answer's not kidding around. If you'd like to help some of the many victims of the conflicts in the Democratic (!) Republic of Congo, considerWomen for Women International.
  
• 57A. MAYA LINGO is clued as [Jargon of ancient Yucatan?]. I hope architect Maya Lin, designer of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, gets tipped off that she's famous enough not only to be in a crossword, but to have a theme entry riff on her name.
  

I went to onelook.com to find other ___go words that could lend themselves to this sort of theme. Sheepish grin(go). Clown car(go). "Hola, chica"(go). Deafening din(go). Duran(go) Duran(go), with lead singer Simon Le(go) Bon(go). A Bridge Too Far(go). "Ain't we got fun"(go). "Bain de Soleil for the St. Tropez tan"(go). So Dan didn't exhaust all the possibilities, no, but he did come up with a fun way to build a theme and created some surprising combos. The mental whiplash from Asia turning into ASIAGO and Maya Lin becoming MAYAN LINGO was terrific, just what I like in a late-week themed puzzle. Ideally, the non-theme clues would be tougher, but it was still a satisfying solve.

Highlights in the fill: DENNY'S restaurant, the TOP BRASS, ANN ARBOR, WHISPERS (clued well as [Library volumes?]), and T.S. GARP ([Fictional author of "The World According to Bensenhaver"] in the John Irving novel The World According to Garp).

Updated Friday morning:

Martin Ashwood-Smith's CrosSynergy/Washington Post puzzle, "Just Visiting"—Janie's review

That is one beautiful, open grid. Don't let it frighten you! Yes, the word count is a low-end 72 (low-end for a themed puzzle), but don't let this frighten you either! In fact, any words of advice I can give you as you approach this puzzle can be paraphrased by incorporating today's theme-fill (if not the theme) itself. The theme sketches out the three phases of a visit with three little words in long and lively phrases. And they are:

• 16A. COME TO THE RESCUE [Engage in heroism]. When you see a puzzle with lots of long "across" fill, the "down" clues come to the rescue. They're your friends as you try to crack the longer fill.
• 34A. STAY THE COURSE [Remain focused]. Don't give up the ship. Just keep at it and you're likely to make your way to solving this one in its entirety.
• 53A. GO OFF THE DEEP END [Lose it]. Of course, for the purposes of constructive words of support, I'd amend this one to say: no need to go off the deep end! Solving is meant to be fun. Do your best to 34A it and you should be fine!

While perhaps not imbued with the immortality of "veni, vidi, vici," the tri-part "come, stay, go" will resonate with anyone who's been a house guest or been host to one—and the one-two (-three) punch made me laugh out loud. It also made me think of (what sounds to me like) the verse to "Hooray for Captain Spaulding" from the Marx brothers' Animal Crackers, which begins with Groucho's singing "Hello, I must be going." (This lyric is also the title of a Groucho biography). If you're unfamiliar with the song or would like a reminder of what zany is all about, this link's for you.

When a composer's or [Musical arranger's work]—a SCORE—has been performed particularly well or is particularly crowd-pleasing, the audience may register their enthusiasm by shouting "ENCORE!" in their quest for ["More!"]. Stage actors sometimes hear this after a performance. I imagine (Sir) LAURENCE [Actor Olivier] heard it more than once in his long and illustrious career.

While most of the cluing is pretty straightforward today, I'll just list some of the other fill that helped give this puzzle its oomph—namely, COCONUTS ([with "The"], the title of another Marx brothers movie in fact), TAPESTRIES, ANIMOSITY, JUICE and JOTTING, and TIME BOMB, of course. Some serious "oomph" there!

Brendan Quigley's blog crossword, "Progressive Thinking—Flute solos optional"

The subtitle reminded me that Brendan was crowd-sourcing prog rock bands via Twitter and Facebook this week. So he wasn't looking for iTunes recommendations, he was looking for theme fodder. I ponied up with "ELO?" and was pleased to see it made the cut—repurposed as the chess term ELO RATING (36A: [Gary Kasparov's was 2853]). The other theme entries:

• 19A. ["Sonic the Hedgehog" and "Golden Axe"] are/were Sega GENESIS GAMES. I'm more familiar with Phil Collins–era Genesis; I know Peter Gabriel mostly as a solo artist. I had his 1992 album, but had no recollection of the cut "Steam" when the video played at a fairly gay bar Wednesday night. Is this somehow a classic gay bar video?
  
• 27A. TRAFFIC COP is a [Ticket issuer]. I confess I don't really know Traffic's oeuvre.
  
• 47A. Omigod, this clue and the crossings for the first two letters brought me to a dead halt. [Yankees broadcaster], (something) NETWORK? How the hell should I know what the Yankees broadcaster is called? 47D: [Montana has 40,551: Abbr.] killed me. I was thinking of the state (RDS.?) but that was wrong. 48D: [It's the same as an F], (something) SHARP, gotta be in A through G, but I don't know which letter is right because musical notation is so far out of my wheelhouse, I don't even know the way to that wheelhouse. RGS NETWORK? Er, no. I stopped the clock and went to Brendan's Facebook post to see what bands people suggested, looking for 3-letter names other than ELO. Still didn't see the answer. Eventually it dawned on me that Montana = quarterback Joe, that 40,551 would be too high a number for TDS, and the answer was YDS. Y*S, duh, YES NETWORK. Which I still don't know anything about. Why would I know that? Hmph.
  
• 53A. With RU in place, I figured RUSH (something) before I even read the clue. [Radio personality who s...]—LIMBAUGH. No need to read the rest of the clue.
  

My favorite word in the fill: 44D: OROGENY, or [Mountain-making process, in geology]. Orogeny recapitulates...no, that's not right. Someday I'll make a science nerd puzzle with OROGENOUS ZONES in it.

Harvey Estes' Wall Street Journal crossword, "Come Together"

The grid's got left/right symmetry instead of the standard rotational crossword symmetry, and the theme entries don't occupy much real estate. That means there's more room for lively fill, and Harvey's also loaded up on great clues. The drop-a-letter theme has a grander purpose—the letters dropped from each song title, in order, spell out something apt. Here's how the theme unfurls:

• 26A. [Song centered on a rooster?] drops an L from "Rock Around the Clock" to become ROCK AROUND THE COCK. When I got that answer and looked back at the puzzle's title, my eyebrow shot up.
  
• 42A. PIECE OF MY HART (Heart – E) is a [Song about a venison serving?].
  
• 61A. BAD ON THE RUN (Band – N) is a [Song about evil in retreat?].
  
• 80A. [Song about a jabberin' parent?] is RAMBLIN' MA (Man – N).
  
• 95A. [Song about a divine earthquake?] is GOD VIBRATIONS (Good – O). I hadn't figured this one out until after filling in the unifying LENNON at 125A, Had been thinking the song was "Gold (something)," so understanding the theme helped a bit.
  
• 113A. DOW-TOWN (Downtown – N) is a [Song about New York City and its investors?].
  
• 125A. John LENNON is clued [Letters dropped from six answers "come together" here], aptly using the Beatles song "Come Together" as part of the overall theme concept. Nice!
  

Among the zippier fill were words and phrases like GET BENT, DINGBAT, SHEBANG, and SOAPBOX, along with these ones with clues I enjoyed:

• 12D. [What happened?] HISTORY is what happened.
  
• 7D. POTATOES are [Shoestring material]. Oh, how I loved crunchy shoestring potatoes when I was a kid. If you were at the ACPT luncheon this year, TV chef Robert Irvine's "on a shoestring" potatoes were yummy. (And poor Andrea Carla Michaels had to peel potatoes on KP duty.)
  
• 68D. [Someone on the board] is SURFER. No board of directors here.
  
• 99D. [Medium alternative] in the psychic energy department is a OUIJA board.
  
• 105D. [Indian, e.g.] clues OCEAN. How many people went with ASIAN first?
  
• 90D. [One who has a guest for dinner?] is a CANNIBAL. This one definitely violates the dinner table test.
  
• 16D. Among constellations, PISCES is a [Star fish].
  
• 20A. [Its coat of arms features a bear, a deer and a moose] clues ONTARIO. Who knew? Do Canadians know this?
  

Overall, I'll give this puzzle a solid A for excellence.

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Friday, 8/28/09

NYT 7:20
BEQ 6:22
LAT 3:20ish
CHE (?) tba—nothing posted since Aug. 7
CS untimed (Downs. Mostly...)
WSJ 8:10

Are you out west? Do you like crossword tournaments? Then go to the Bay Area Crossword Tournament on Saturday, September 12, at Alameda High School. All the info is right here. The basics: $25 to register in advance, or $30 at the door. Proceeds benefit the California Dictionary Project, "whose mission is to put a paperback dictionary into the hands of every California third grader." The contest puzzles include three NYT puzzles from the following week and a Sunday-sized crossword by local yokel Tyler Hinman. Prizes for winners!

David Quarfoot's New York Times crossword

Why, just the other day there was a puzzle with a D.Q. theme, and now, after a long wait, we're treated to a D.Q. themeless. Good to see your byline again, David! Is it just me, though, or does Will Shortz have his days mixed up a bit? I could swear this is a Saturday puzzle, and yet it purports to be a Friday one.

But look at this beautiful beast. It's insane, this guy's crossword! I'm not going to check a database, but I'm guessing that the following entries are all (or mostly) shiny, new crossword answers. There are so many of them, I will barely have time to mention anything else in the puzzle.

• 1A. "FREE TIBET" is a [Rallying cry supported by some monks], monks of the lama type rather than the Friar Tuck type.
  
• 17A. THE GRUDGE is a [2004 horror film about a passed-on curse]. Not the timeliest mention, but awesome nonetheless in a "this is not your father's Oldsmobile nor your grandma's crossword" way.
  
• 24A. [Chilled], idiomatically, means TOOK IT EASY.
  
• 53A. In a computer, [A bug may cause it] refers to a FATAL ERROR.
  
• 62A. I love the word SIMPATICO, which means [Congenial].
  
• 67A. The Beatles' PENNY LANE is [Where "all the people that come and go stop and say hello"]. You're kinda singing the song to yourself, aren't you? Me, too.
  
• 1D. FATHEAD is...not necessarily a word I'd ever use in lieu of [Dolt].
  
• 2D. Pop singer RIHANNA is a [One-named Grammy winner of 2007]. The clue may allude to two years ago, but she's every bit as current now. I still haven't heard that "Umbrella" song, though.
  
• 21D. JINXED combines J and X goodness, and it can mean [Under a whammy].
  
• 40D. Donna SHALALA called. She wants to know why she lost out to [Title syllables in a hit 1964 song]. "Sha la la, the Reflex, is a..."—sorry, wrong song. Also not to be confused with Sha Na Na, which I was reminded of by the BAD DOG clue, 7D: [Rebuke to Bowser].
  
• 47D. The U.S.S. COLE is the [Destroyer in 2000 headlines]. It's the one that was bombed in the port of crosswordese Aden, killing 17 U.S. sailors. Aw, so sad. Also not the timeliest inclusion in the crossword, but any sooner and it would definitely have been too much.

Least familiar (to me) things in this puzzle:

• 63D. ["Que ___?" (Jose's "How's it going?"] needs TAL to be complete.
  
• 45D. ADELINA is the first name of [Legendary soprano ___ Patti]. See? That's totally a Saturdayesque entry.
  
• 13D. [Two-time president of Romania] is ILIESCU. Why, yes, I did first opt for the playwright Ionesco. Whoops.
  
• 30A. [He sighted and named Natal on Christmas Day of 1497] clues Vasco DA GAMA. Coming at that answer from the back end, I was working the crossings a lot.
  
• 22A. How much do I bristle at the random [Book of Mormon book] clues? So much. This one's Sheriff ENOS, ENOS the space chimp, ENOS from the Bible, and baseball's ENOS Slaughter. (Other 4-letter books in the Book of Mormon include Omni and Alma, but those, too, have other cluing options.)

I love [Swiftly done?] as the clue for 41D: SATIRIC—as in "done by satirist Jonathan Swift." And I always like to be reminded that the VATICAN is the 46D: [Swiss Guards' setting]—you just know a lot of people will scour their brains for 7-letter Swiss locales. Another clue I like: 56A: [All of them may be off] for BETS, as in "all bets are off."

Welcome back to the puzzle page, Mr. Quarfoot! I hope you've got more in the pipeline because I do appreciate your constructing style.

Updated Friday morning:

Gail Grabowski's CrosSynergy/Washington Post puzzle, "Not Quite White"—Janie's review

The title of today's puzzle is not an assessment by Elmer Fudd on, say, the conditions in Hamlet's Denmark, but a hint to the various shades that appear as the first words in the four theme-phrases—each a variation of "off-white." While there's something a tad "beige" in this theme idea, there's some nice fill—themed and un-—to be enjoyed. Namely:

• 17A. [Aquaculture site for pearl producers] OYSTER FARM. A variation of this oyster farm is the controlled area for raising the mabe pearl producer, our friend the ABALONE [Edible mollusk].
• 10D. [Versatile pasta topping] CREAM SAUCE. Not pesto sauce...
• 30D. [Early-model bicycle, quaintly] BONESHAKER. This one's a beaut. This does refer to a specific bike style, but just think of a ride over cobblestones (on that uncomfortable, wrought-iron framed high-wheeler...) and the nuances of the phrase should be pretty apparent.
• 61A. [West African republic] IVORY COAST. Also two bars of soap...

There are some of the TAMEST, most EARNEST clues in this puzzle, but really there's a lot of good fill:

• If you're going for a SLED RIDE [Snowy day downhill diversion], you and your friends may want to have your LIP BALMS [Chapstick Classics, e.g.] handy. And it would be best to dress for the weather, lest you develop certain SYMPTOMS [Sore throat and sneezing, for a cold].
• An OPEN CASE is an [Unsolved burglary, e.g.].
• SAY "UNCLE" is a way to [Surrender, in a way]
• TIP-TOE is a way to [Walk quietly]
• DATA make up [Spreadsheet fill], which may be converted to GRAPHS [Sales meeting diagrams]
• INGOTS [Gold bars] provide a little sparkle, and CURRY [Indian seasoning] a little "zing."
  

Would love to have seen more clues like [Overcharge] for SOAK, [Flat substitute] for SPARE (tire...) or [Futures analyst?] for SEER. In an "off-white" puzzle like this one, I think they'd give it some much needed color. Mind you, I'm not at all CROSS [Annoyed]. I'm just sayin'...

Elizabeth Long's L.A. Times crossword

This one's pretty easy for a Friday LAT. If newspaper solvers complain that it's too hard, I just don't know what to tell them.

The theme involves lopping off the first S in phrases starting with ST- words:

• 17A. [Insect's working hours?] is a TICK SHIFT. Yo, constructors, editors, and clue fact-checkers: Ticks are arachnids, not insects.
  
• 24A. [Seaman who saw it all?] is a TAR WITNESS. Crossword tropes (do you know anyone who uses "tar" to mean a sailor?) promoted to star billing always amuse me.
  
• 34A. [Split end?] clues TRESS FRACTURE. My son hasn't had a haircut since April '08—I'll bet he has a lot of split ends.
  
• 46A. [London museum's hidden camera locations?] is a TATE SECRET. I would have been delighted if this clue were about ad-man Larry of Bewitched. Or the Tate family of Soap, for that matter.
  
• 53A. [Where two-wheelers aren't allowed?] is the TRIKE ZONE. I have no explanation for why I first went with TRUCK. What familiar noun phrases begin with "struck"? In another version of this theme, you might have a TAR TRUCK.

I noticed that the two S's that begin words in the top row of this puzzle could also be dropped—SASS and SAUDI would become ASS and AUDI, and SMELT and STILT would be MELT and TILT, all legitimate fill.

44D: [Former NBA star Mourning] is named ALONZO. He got quite ill with kidney disease, had a transplant, and returned to the NBA. That's impressive.

A commenter on Rex's L.A. Crossword Confidential post noted that TRESS FRACTURE duplicates a clue word: CAST is clued as a [Fracture treatment]. Is it just me, or is this sort of duplication popping up more frequently this year?

Brendan Quigley's blog crossword, "Themeless Friday"

Not my favorite themeless BEQ, thanks to some out-there names, but there's some terrific fill for sure:

• 25D. POOHBAH! I love that word. POOHBAH and PASHA are both delightful. Clued here as [One running things].
  
• 17A. [Face plants?] is a tricky clue for BOTOX INJECTIONS, which may be planted in the face.
  
• 12D. [You can dig them] is a rather vague clue for the au courant phrase SHOVEL-READY JOBS. I've been surprised at the number of American Reinvestment and Recovery Act repaving jobs I've seen around town. Chicago has many potholed roads that haven't been redone, sure, but it's good to see a few arteries getting much-needed updating.
  
• 3D. GET INTO ONE'S HEAD is a solid, colloquial phrase, clued as [Gain a psychological advantage over an opponent, say].

On the blah side are things like TIN PLATE, REWELD, a WAXER crossing a COAXER over yonder from the SASSERS, variant AMEER, and the [Naples resort] called ISCHIA. The ischia are also your butt bones. The unfamiliar people hanging out in the grid include NIELS Mueller (I know Bohr), ['70s All-Star Ralph] GARR (I know Teri), and [Rangers reliever Darren] O'DAY (I know Anita).

Harvey Estes' Wall Street Journal crossword, "My 8 Favorite Texting Words"

You know how kids these days use "gr8" as a texting shortcut for "great" and "h8" for "hate"? They may or may not be using the other 8-for-"ate"-sound substitutions in Harvey's puzzle. Me, I can't bring myself to use numbers instead of sounds, or "u" for "you"—but I do get lazy about capitalization when texting. I admit it.

The theme entries are eight phrases that intersect at an 8 rebus square, where it may stand in for ate, eat, at, or ait. There are a bunch of sections in this grid with 7-, 8-, and 9-letter fill hanging around the theme entries. Can you tell that Harvey is good at making wide-open themeless 25x25 puzzles for Games magazine? I do love me an Ornery Crossword, and Harvey's one of the more regular Ornery contributors.

I'd go into the specifics of this puzzle but you know what? You should just solve it yourself. It's smooth, it's got some entertaining clues, and the rebus theme has its little surprises.

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Friday, 10/17

NYT 11:05
Sun 6:14
CHE 4:54
LAT 3:53
CS 2:56
WSJ 9:18

(updated at 5 p.m. Friday)

Friday's two themeless puzzles offer about as much contrast as two very good themeless crosswords can. Patrick Berry's New York Times puzzle contains a super-low word count of 54; there has been just one 52-worder and three other 54-worders in the NYT. David Quarfoot's Sun crossword, a "Weekend Warrior," has the highest allowable word count for a themeless, 72. The Quarfoot puzzle has six 10-letter answers plus an assortment of 3- to 8-letter answers. The Berry has two 12's, one 11, mostly 6- to 8-letter answers, and just one 3 and a pair of 5's. Quarfoot's puzzle has colorful phrases and surprising letter sequences where Berry's has mostly single words containing lots of common letters (including plurals with S and -EST superlatives). Berry's 54-worder was undoubtedly much more challenging to make, and I found it much harder to solve—but that experience wasn't universal.

What gave me such difficulty in solving Berry's New York Times crossword? I got mired in a few spots in the northeast quadrant of the grid. I'd never encountered the term PAST MASTERS, clued straightforwardly as [People of much experience]. Having no organic chemistry knowledge, [Organic compounds used as solvents] stumped me too—the answer is ETHERS, which could have been clued in a way that made it easier for a non-scientist to tease out. I should've gotten TATTIEST for [Showing the most wear and tear]. [Sherlock Holmes story not by Conan Doyle, e.g.] clued PASTICHE, and that clue just wasn't pointing me there. Other trouble spots in this corner were GASPER, or [Coffin nail], meaning a cigarette in chiefly British slang; TESTATE, or having a will, clued as [Ready to go, you might say] (with a neighbor on his deathbed, I don't like this clue one bit). The friendlier parts of this corner were STARKERS, or [In the buff]; the Green Bay PACKERS; and GESTALT, or [Integration that exceeds the sum of its parts].

The northwest quadrant was far less vexing though it had a capital city I didn't know: MALABO is [Equatorial Guinea's capital]. (I just learned that an old friend is living in the capital of Turkmenistan, Ashgabat—another capital city that had eluded my notice.) MORALE is [What boosters boost]; I wanted that one to be a plural for a while, which impeded the discovery of EASELED, or [Like paintings in progress]. [Curacao flavoring] is ORANGE. (Holla!) [Delivery professionals?] are ORATORS. Joining the two upper corners is SPEEDOMETERS, clued with [They offer rates for automobiles]. The middle of the puzzle contains the one 3-letter answer, PAS, clued as [Things that talk in sch.?]—P.A.'s, or public address systems.

The southwest corner contains one of my favorite words, MORDANT, or [Bitingly sarcastic]. [Skin soother] tricked me into entering ALOEVERA, the crossword world's favorite skin soother, in lieu of the correct CALAMINE. RAIMENT is clued with the plural [Closet hangings]. A [Special announcer] announcing the day's specials can be a WAITRESS. MALAYA, the second MALA** geographic answer in this puzzle, is clued [Singapore lies just off its tip].

The southeast corner was also more pliant than the quadrant above it. This was the easiest corner for me, as the clues tended to be simpler. ELEANOR [of Aquitaine, Henry II's wife] was a big gimme. [Nickname for a cheater in the Oklahoma land rush of 1889] provides the background for the word SOONER. MALLOW is a [Plant family that includes the hibiscus], and ONSIDE, or [Not behind the defenders], is the opposite of offside in soccer and hockey. The long answer connecting the two lower quadrants is SPARES THE ROD ([Isn't strict enough, say])—I'll bet someone somewhere has put that in a cryptic crossword with the clue evoking sparest + Herod.

David Quarfoot's Sun crossword kicks off 1-Across with goofy pop culture: [Certain pet's refrain] is CH-CH-CH-CHIA, from the Chia Pet commercials. Those H's all needed vowels below them, but the C's could be followed by H's and L's (or R's), so 15-Across didn't need to begin with eight vowels in a row: "HI-LILI, HI-LO" is a [Song in a 1953 movie musical], Lili. I like the opposite corner even better, with YOU ARE HERE [Words by an arrow] stacked atop Gollum's classic line, "MY PRECIOUS," stacked atop SLEEP APNEA, or [Diagnosis from a polysomnogram].

Other clues and answers of note:

• MATH is [Hunting field]. Is this about the title character in Good Will Hunting?
  
• YES, DEAR was a ['00s CBS sitcom]. I can't believe this show is being aired in syndication now.
  
• CANARDS is the best word I know that means [Lies]. If only the presidential candidates would accuse one another of issuing canards. "Lies" are played out. "Canards" are fresh.
  
• [One-fifth of trentacinque] is SETTE. Let's see...trentacinque must be 35.
  
• [Old-style "OMG!"] clues EGAD. I love this clue.
  
• [Their job is icing] refers to HITMEN, not the people who apparently do not have bakery jobs as icers despite what crosswords would lead you to believe.
  
• HERSTORY is [What a philogynist might study].
  
• The southwest corner bundles together three answers with stand-alone letters: M.C. ESCHER is the [Subject of an art museum in The Hague]; an A AVERAGE is a [Valedictorian's pride]; and C NATURAL is an [Accidental in the key of D].
  
• PILE ON gets a sporting clue, [Commit a football infraction].
  

Updated:

I'm short on time today, having just gotten back from breakfast and awaiting the arrival of an out-of-town friend so I can go to second breakfast.

Jack McInturff's LA Times crossword lops off a W from the beginning of five phrases:

• AGE INCREASE (wage) is an [Inevitable fact of life?].
  
• ARP SPEED (warp) is the [Painting speed for a noted dadaist?]. Jean ARP is a regular in the crossword grid, so it's nice to see him promoted to a role in the theme.
  
• ARRANT OFFICER (warrant) is an [Unmitigant military leader?].
  
• AX MUSEUM (wax) is [Where loggers are immortalized?]. Why this one took me a while to figure out, I don't know. I like it.
  
• ARMING TREND (warming) is [Switching from 38s to 45s, say?]. I made trouble for myself by thinking of vinyl records instead of guns (yes, I know 45s are accompanied by 33 1/3 and 78 rpm records. Combine 33 and 78 in your head, and you get a 38, don't you?
  

Patrick Blindauer's CrosSynergy puzzle was a breeze for me (for a Friday, anyway). All four theme entries in "Have You Herd?" are people's names that contain a hidden ELK. There were plenty of other names in the fill, so the puzzle had a contemporary pop culture feel to it. The themers:

• MICHAEL KORS is the [Fashion designer who judges "Project Runway"].
  
• IMMANUEL KANT is the [German philosopher who wrote "Critique of Pure Reason"].
  
• ETHEL KENNEDY is the [Matriarch who married Bobby on June 17, 1950].
  
• And EVEL KNIEVEL, whose first name gets plenty of play in crosswords, gets his full name as the [Entertainer who holds the Guinness World Record for broken bones]. Ouch!
  

What's this SO BAD that was a [1984 Paul McCartney hit]? Why don't I remember that song at all?

I didn't get a chance to do the Wall Street Journal and Chronicle of Higher Ed crosswords yet. Maybe later...

Updated again:

Will Nediger's Chronicle of Higher Education crossword, "Puzzle 4.0," has a perfect 4.0 GPA in that the letter string GPA appears in four rebus squares. For extra elegance points, the rebus squares are in exactly symmetrical locations. I'm guessing there weren't all that many theme-entry phrase candidates that contain an embedded GPA at a specific point—how many other phrases could replace MOVIN[G PA]RT as 10-letter phrases with GPA in spots 6, 7, and 8, for example?

Some of the GPA phrases are terrifically fresh—BEG PARDON crosses DOG-PADDLES, and [Formulator of the exclusion principle] WOLFGANG PAULI (who??) goes to a STAG PARTY. The SWING PATH, LONG PANTS, and DRAG PARACHUTE are a bit drier. Favorite clues and fill: [Climate gaugers, in a way] are POLLS. I went with the physical climate and the earth's POLES—so close, and yet so far! HORRID, or [Absolutely atrocious], is a woefully underused word (as is TREACLY). DELETE crosses STETS in a corner that's not sure what the proofreader should be doing. I appreciate goofball vocabulary like [What a peccatophobe is afraid to do] as the clue for SIN.

Mike Shenk's alias, Maryanne Lemot, dwells in the byline of this week's Wall Street Journal crossword, "Convenient Cash." Each theme entry has a convenient ATM inserted into its midst. My favorites among the theme entries are as follows: Flapdoodle + ATM is a FLAT MAP DOODLE, or [Cartographer's sketch, but not for a globe?]. A combover + ATM is a COMBAT MOVER, or [Tank?]; this one I like because of the combover action. Honeybee + ATM is "HONEY, BEAT ME," a [Masochist's request to his sweetheart?]—a tad outré for a business-oriented newspaper, not that I'm judging anyone. Most troublesome clue for me: QUIBBLE is [Small grouse]. If you think of grousing as complaining, it makes perfect sense, but if all you can think of is a bird, QUIBBLE makes no sense—and it wasn't until after I finished the puzzle and began blogging that I realized a QUIBBLE wasn't a little-known cousin of the quail.

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Sunday, 7/27

NYT 14:30
LAT 10:39
PI 8:52
BG 8:40
CS 3:24

(post updated at 1:20 Sunday afternoon)

Yay! It's a plus-sized Sunday New York Times puzzle by Mike Nothnagel and Dave Quarfoot. I was surprised to see the clock ticking on (and on...) as long as it did, because I never felt stuck. But it's a 23x23, which takes a while to fill in—after solving in the applet, I downloaded the Across Lite version to have a screen-capture (clicking on the image will enlarge it) that didn't have single letters in the rebus squares, and it took 7½ minutes to retype the answers I'd already figured out a few minutes earlier. The rebus squares could contain arrows or words, but I'm partial to words—UP or DOWN, LEFT or RIGHT, or "Going Every Which Way," as the title says.

Without further ado, the long theme entries with two directions apiece and their rebused shorter crossings:

• 16-A. "[DOWN], BOY!" or [Command to an overfriendly canine].
  
• 29-A. [UP]STAIRS, [DOWN]STAIRS, or [Popular 1970s British TV series].
  
• 37-A. "ALL [RIGHT]!" or ["Now you're talking!"].
  
• 38-A. [LEFT] IT [UP] TO CHANCE, or [Took the risk].
  
• 71-A. THE [LEFT], or [Liberals].
  
• 84-A. [DOWN]-SIZING, or [Cause of unemployment].
  
• 90-A. "[RIGHT] ON!" or ["Amen!"].
  
• 92-A. "'S[UP], DOG?" or [Slangy street greeting]. ("What's up, dog?" with the "what" elided.)
  
• 95-A. SET-[UP]S, or [Arrangements].
  
• 101-A. [RIGHT] END, or [Football defensive line position].
  
• 125-A. "SIT [DOWN] and SHUT [UP]!" or [Exasperated teacher's cry].
  
• 137-A. [RIGHT] WHERE YOU [LEFT] THEM, or [Missing glasses' location, usually].
  
• 1-D. DAM [UP], or [Block].
  
• 16-D. [DOWN] THE [RIGHT] FIELD LINE, or [Barely fair, maybe], in baseball.
  
• 30-D. [DOWN]-SHIFTED, or [Went from second to first, say], in a car and not in baseball. Nobody tries to go back a base, do they?
  
• 36-D. STANDING [UP][RIGHT], or [Erect].
  
• 38-D. [LEFT] ON BASE, or [Not brought home], again in baseball.
  
• 41-D. [UP] AT, or [Awake by].
  
• 70-D. IT'S [RIGHT] [UP] YOUR ALLEY, or [Sentiment suggesting "Try this!"].
  
• 72-D. [LEFT] A [DOWN]PAYMENT, or
  
• 89-D. RESTED [UP], or [Took it easy].
  
• 105-D. STAGE [RIGHT], or [Common entry point].
  
• 113-D. GO [DOWN], or [Happen, slangily].
  
• 140-D. [LEFT] EYE, or [Bazooka Joe's working peeper]. I would have gone with Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes.
  

So that's, what, eight long theme entries with 16 rebused crossings? Criminy! That's a lot of thematic action, and it's not forced. I very much enjoyed my sojourn inside the grid, piecing together all the crazy directions and tackling an entertaining set of clues and fill. Outside the terrific theme, here's what I liked best (and I won't list everything I liked, because this crossword is just too damned big for that):

• "SHALL I?" or ["Do you want me to?"].
• LET RIP means to [Deliver, as harsh criticism].
• UMAMI, the [Proposed "fifth taste," which means "savory" in Japanese. It's the taste of meat, cheese, and MSG. Yes, that MSG. I have much more interest in sweet than savory.
• A MOSAIC is an [Arrangement of 40-Downs], 40-Down being a TESSERA or mosaic tile.
• [Hollow center?] is the DOUBLE L at the center of the word "hollow," and [Building component?] is the SILENT U in that word. Some call such entries "quarfeet," so I kinda want to know if it was Mike Nothnagel who put those entries into the grid.
• The VW BEETLE is clued simply as [Bug].
• Botany gets play with MOSSY, or [Sphagnous], and AMANITA, the [Genus of poisonous mushrooms]. That's the death cap mushroom, mentioned in this paper I edited on mushroom poisoning.
• One [Result of pulling the plug?] in the bathtub is an EDDY down the drain.
• An [Opening screen option on many an A.T.M.] is ESPANOL. I'm partial to ATMs that offer French, German, or other languages. I have a very good track record at navigating those correctly, but I've seen one or two ATMs that offer Chinese or Japanese, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't get money out.

There was a mystery man in the grid, Ralph BLANE [who co-wrote "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"]. I'm not up on any [Part of a shark's respiratory system], so GILL SLIT was another "rely on the crossings" answer for me—and I found all the crossings to be fair. Thanks for making a giant rebus puzzle and inviting us all in to play with it, Mike and David (and Will)!

Updated:

LA Times crossword editor Rich Norris ran one of his own puzzles for today's syndicated LA Times puzzle, "Extra Credit" (under the pseudonym Nora Pearlstone, an anagram of "not a real person"). Even after I sussed out the theme—phrases with CR, an "extra credit," inserted—I still found the overall cluing fairly tough. The last letter I entered was the U joining UFOS and SOUP. UFOS are clued as [WWII foo fighters, e.g.], and I knew the phrase only as the capital-F band name. SOUP is clued as [Trouble, informally, with "the"], which is not terribly obvious. The theme entries are:

• CRASH WEDNESDAY, or [Good time to catch up on your sleep?]. Hey, I slept 'til 9:40 this morning. It was delightful.
  
• ROLLED CROATS, or [Transported some Balkans?].
  
• CROUTON BAIL, or {What you have to pay to get the bread bits released from your salad?].
  
• MIGHTY CROAK, or [Sound from a huge frog?].
  
• SIX-PACK CRABS, or [Conveniently boxed crustaceans?].
  
• CROUCH THAT HURT, or [One bend too many?].
  
• MORAY CREEL, or [Basket for snigglers?].
  
• PHOTO CROPS, or [Farm produce caught on film?].
  

Toughest clues:

• Edwin [Land development?] is the Polaroid CAMERA.
• [Joseon Dynasty country: Abbr.] is KOR (Korea).
• [Med. research org.] is NIMH. Remember the kids' book, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH?
• [Basra natives] are not just Iraqis here but ARABS.
• For [Musician heard in "Memoirs of a Geisha"], I thought I needed to remember the name of the classical Japanese musical instruments. Nope—just cellist YO-YO MA.
• [Colorful flowers] are PHLOX, no plural S on the end. The X crosses the nice X FACTOR, or [Unpredictable determinant].
• [Rock-boring tool] is TREPAN. Trepans: They're not just for boring through skulls anymore.
• [Tyrannical boss, facetiously] is HIS NIBS. The phrase's derivation is here.
• [Soprano Mitchell] is LEONA.
• [Added help] is the noun HIREE, not the verb "hired."
• [Ecuadoran province named for its gold production] is basic Spanish: EL ORO.
• [Daughter of David] is TAMAR.
• [Ochlocracy] is MOB RULE. This is the third time in a year, I think, that this pair has been included in a newspaper crossword I've seen.
• [Like some earth pigments] is OCHERY. Is that a word? Yes, it is.

Merl Reagle's Philadelphia Inquirer crossword, "Old Paint," is packed with painterly puns:

• [Reaction to French art prices?] is DEGAS TO BE KIDDING ("They got to be kidding"). In writing, it makes no sense, but read aloud, it sounds like colloquial English.
  
• [When the art museum is closed?] is MONDRIAN TUESDAY (Monday and Tuesday, I think). Yes, Mondrian sounds like "Monday and Tuesday," sort of, but are art museums closed on Tuesdays or on Mondays and Tuesdays?
  
• [Chicken's reaction to great art?] is BRAQUE-BUCK-BUCK. Sounds sort of like clucking.
  
• [Classic novel about a painter?] is VERMEER TO ETERNITY, playing on From Here to Eternity.
  
• [What you need to get into Paul's exhibit?] are CEZANNE TICKETS, which sounds like "season tickets."
  
• [Reaction to American art prices?] is O'KEEFFE ME A BREAK ("Oh, give me a break"). This one's more of a sound stretch than the Degas entry.
  
• [Sources of famous oils?] clues CASTOR AND POLLOCK, playing on Castor and Pollux with castor oil and artist Jackson Pollock. I like this one's multiple levels, though Pollock's drip paintings weren't oils.
  

Merl supplements the theme with scattered art-related clues for the fill entries—TAR is an anagram of art, DIEGO is painter Rivera, ROSE was one of Picasso's periods, etc.

Emily Cox and Henry Rathvon's syndicated Boston Globe crossword, "Magazine Mergers," reminds me of a theme in a Patrick Merrell crossword at the ACPT a few years ago. I usually enjoy this sort of theme, in which theme entries are crafted by piling up two or three magazine titles. OUTSIDE NEW YORK is clued as a [Mag for Big Apple escapees?] and combines Outside and New York magazines. My favorites are DOWNBEAT GOLF, combining a jazz magazine with a sports one and cluing it as [Mag for dismal duffers?], and SELF-WIRED TV GUIDE, which bundles three publications (women's magazine Self, tech-geek magazine Wired, and TV Guide) as [DIY home theater mag?]. In the fill, there were several oddities and obscurities. At 107-Down, SESS was clued as [Ganja], and while I'm familiar with ganja as slang for marijuana, I haven't seen "sess" before. 74-Down is [Greece, to Romans], or ACHAEA, with the C crossing [Cookbook author Joyce] CHEN. At 103-Across, LILA is clued as a [Robert Pirsig book], but I tie his name to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and nothing else.

This week's themeless CrosSynergy "Sunday Challenge" is by Martin Ashwood-Smith. The grid's quite odd-looking, with Rorschach blots of black squares drawing the eye away from the vertical triple-stacks of 15-letter entries along the left and right sides. While most of the triple-stacks' crossings are short entries, as usual, each stack does intersect another stack of 8-, 9-, and 10-letter answers—an impressive bit of construction. Overall, the cluing was pretty easy, maybe Wednesday NYT level. Did you know that "The Toy Parade" was the opening theme for LEAVE IT TO BEAVER? I didn't, but having the LEAV part in the grid early on pointed the way towards the show's title. Favorite clue: [Ebony item] for MAGAZINE ARTICLE.

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Friday, 4/4

NYS 8:26
NYT 6:57
LAT 5:05
CHE 4:32
Jonesin' 3:08
CS 2:59

WSJ 8:50

Will be limping to my kid's school to volunteer this morning, helping 180 or so second-graders work on their two-week integrated arts project about the Olympics. My son signed up for the dancing group, I think doing an opening ceremonies sort of routine. His guy friends all signed up for dance, too. How awesome is that?

So the many lovely Friday crosswords I wait all week for will have to wait 'til the afternoon.

I am fond of the letter Z, having grown up with that as my last initial. Do you think David Quarfoot might have a special liking for Q? Let's see if his New York Times crossword reveals anything. Well, there are those six Qs along the diagonal. (Two of the Q words also contain a Z and cross PIZAZZ, which makes my Z-centric self happy.) Please do marvel at this construction, but save some room in your marveling lobe for this 1996 Manny Nosowsky puzzle with an unearthly 12 Qs lined up diagonally. (Kee-rikey!) Even with "only" six Qs lined up here, Quarfoot's puzzle is stil mighty showy.

There are two music answers that Jim H's "Music theory for crossword lovers" didn't teach me about—D NATURAL ([Accidental in the key of B or E]) and F MAJOR ([Beethoven's "Pastoral" Symphony is in it]). Seth G. had reported that ADAR is the go-to Hebrew month in crosswords; here, it's clued as [When the Feast of Lots is observed]. (Feast of Lots is equivalent to Purim.)

Toughest clues: [Abstainer's order] for ADAM'S ALE (i.e., water); [Olympic event since 1988] for SUPER G skiing; [Producer/director ___ MacNaughton of Monty Python] for IAN (never heard of him); [Peck parts: Abbr.] for QTS (1 peck = 8 quarts); [Burger replacement] for Chief Justice REHNQUIST (love this clue!); [Stands in line at an airport?] for the stands known as KIOSKS; [Title woman of a film that won the 1985 Camera d'Or] for ORIANA; [Dodger's dread?] for IRS AUDIT (love this clue, too!); [Places to make tracks] for recording STUDIOS; [It often gets down] for a down-filled QUILT; [Réunion reunion attendee] for FRERE (French brother, family reunion); [Poetic conjunction] for ALTHO (that's poetic?); [Pair from a deck, maybe] for MASTS (boat deck, not card deck); [Literally, "women's boat] for the UMIAK; [Board] for MEALS, as in "room and board"; the verb [Silence] for QUELL, not QUIET; [Pecking order?] for "KISS ME"; and the sort of strained [Feeding tubes?] for ZITI pasta.

I had no idea that SAM SPADE was a [Sleuth who "looked rather pleasantly like a blond satan"], nor that there was ever a character called THE SIREN, a [Spellbinding "Batman" villainess played by Joan Collins]. Speaking of fictional characters, we also have the [2002 Denzel Washington drama] JOHN Q. Other Q highlights: QUETZAL, [Guatemala's national bird]; QUIZNOS, ["Mmmm...Toasty!" sloganeer]; QUEEN MUM, [Noted centenarian of 2000, familiarly]; and QUIET GAME, [Parent's ruse to hush noisy kids] ("Let's see which of us can be the quietest...I bet I can go the longest without talking!). The VIP PASS [might get you backstage].

Other entries and clues I admired: the LIME TREE, or [Linden] (gimme pop culture, geography, geology, and trees in my crossword!); [Like some cubs] for URSINE (lion cubs would be leonine or feline, not ursine); the hockey [Ranger rival] for a New Jersey DEVIL; and MOSEL, the [German wine region] (they make a lotta Riesling there).

Trip Payne's annual circa–April Fools' Day "Wacky Weekend Warrior" in the New York Sun was exactly as expected, meaning that only about 10 clues were at all what you expect in a crossword. The rest of the entries in this 52-word grid of expansive white space? Totally insane. A [Maseru-phobe's cry] is "OH, NO—LESOTHO!" I.M. Pei's followers are termed PEIITES. [Denial of draft-animal ownership] is IT ISN'T MY OX. [Strip, to a snake] is UNDRESSSS. And the [naive big-game hunter's cry] is, of course, "Here, HIPPO, HIPPO, HIPPO." I like the occasional derangement of crossword sanity, and this was a fun Wacky WW.

Updated with quick takes:

Matt Jones's Jonesin' crossword, "When in Rome," was easy once I saw the fun gimmick—words or abbreviations that contain only letters that are also Roman numerals are converted into spelled-out numbers. The [Roman martial arts star?] is Jet Li, or JET FIFTY-ONE. An IV drip becomes FOUR DRIP, V for Vendetta turns into FIVE FOR VENDETTA, and a mix tape is ONE THOUSAND / NINE TAPE. No room for a 10-letter theme entry, so no MALCOLM TEN here—which is good, because I've heard the "Malcolm the Tenth" joke a few too many times. Fun fill, too, to go with the fun theme—OMAROSA from The Apprentice and Heidi KLUM from Project Runway (reality TV, in the house!), a WHAMMY from the game show Press Your Luck, Maria's husband LUIS from Sesame Street, PEZ candy dispenser, and the ZAPF Dingbats pictogram font. I just Googled Zapf and you know what? It's a guy. Hermann Zapf, born in 1918, noted type designer, responsible for my go-to font (Palatino—and thanks to Mac genius Joe Cabrera for helping me reclaim Palatino when an OS upgrade ate it) as well as Dingbats (snowflakes! scissors!) and a zillion other typefaces.

Lynn Lempel's CrosSynergy puzzle, "Full Speed Ahead," includes four phrases that begin with words that are synonymous: QUICK(SILVER), FLEET (ADMIRAL), HASTY (PUDDING), and FAST (FRIENDS). It's too bad there wasn't room for ZIPPY THE PINHEAD, but good that there was room enough for the FLEET ADMIRAL so we were spared the Fleet enema.

Plenty of tough clues in Dan Naddor's LA Times crossword—or maybe I'm just not on the right wavelength for his puzzles. I think I had the same trouble with his last puzzle, unless I'm misremembering. The theme is AI words morphed into IA words. I'm always pleased when a morsel of crosswordese is put to better use than mere filler—and here, the Middle Eastern unit of currency known as the rial gets promoted (rail becomes rial in RIAL SPLITTERS. Mind you, in the upper corner, the ol' REATA perches atop the ol' ALTAI Mountains, so there's still some of that fill. Favorite theme entry: DIARY QUEEN ([Honored chronicler?] or, if you prefer, [Crossword blogger Orange]). The central theme entry, FIAT ACCOMPLI, is 12 letters long. Do you know what that means, kids? That means the grid has to be one row wider or narrower than the usual 15—in this case, it's a 15x16 grid wider than it is tall (the occasional 15x16 NY Sun crossword is taller).

The Chronicle of Higher Education puzzle, "Myth-a-morphosis," was constructed by Annemarie Brethauer. The theme entries are (and correct me if I'm wrong, please) characters from Greek mythology who were transformed from a person or nymph of some sort into other entities—a flower, tree, stone, monster, spider, stag, and panpipe. (I'd say SYRINX, who became a panpipe, got the worst of it.) Tough fill if you don't know all the mythical names—the flower GLOXINIA, a SPANDREL ([Wall spce between adjacent arches]), KINO from Steinbeck's The Pearl.

I began to nod off before finishing Randolph Ross's Wall Street Journal crossword, "The Start of Something Big." It's not the puzzle—it's me. Four hours wielding scissors and double-stick tape (plus some crayons)? I'm rusty. Tackling a Sunday-sized puzzle immediately after doing four other crosswords, during the late-afternoon Doldrums of Sleepiness? A recipe for a mid-solve catnap if I ever saw one. The theme entries are sort of like Jeopardy! "Before and After" clues, though in this case the beginning is always a word that's synonymous with big. [Big word] + X and X + Y are both establishes phrases, but [big word] + X + Y is something nutty. For example, a [Big security device?] is a MAXI PADLOCK, and a maxipad is a "feminine hygiene product." (Welcome to crosswords, MAXIPAD!) I Googled maxipad and found this funny video, "The Secret Life of the Maxi Pad." (Guy dressed as pad—with wings!—goes about his day. Grocery shopping—for cherries, hot sauce, tomatoes, strawberries, etc. Yoga class.)

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Saturday, 3/15

NYT 5:38

When I lined up Al Sanders and Dave Sullivan to guest-blog about the Sunday and Monday puzzles, I figured I'd do all the usual Saturday puzzles before leaving for my trip. But you know what? We're leaving for O'Hare at 7 a.m., and that's when I usually wake up. So I don't think I'll be getting to the Newsday, LA Times, and CrosSynergy puzzles Saturday morning. The puzzle commentary on those three will be self-serve in the comments.

Hey, if you've ever hankered for a central repository of crossword events, hanker no more. The ACPT website now includes a calendar of upcoming crossword events around the country.

Ah, David Quarfoot! How do I love thy crosswords? Let me count the ways. In this one New York Times puzzle, you've got crazy fill that hardly any other constructors dare to try. And you smush it all in there together—why strand a GAY ICON in the grid without SIX-PACKS and a BAD PERM and THE CORE (that movie Hilary Swank made even though an Oscar winner should have known it was a bad idea) and "DOE, A DEER"? It's more fun to have a party of misfit answers. The fill has 28 7-letter answers, which oftentimes seems to mean a lot of blah words like RESISTS and SETTEES, but not here—no, you've got multi-word phrases for at least half of 'em. Because you're DQ and it is your wont, you have some Scrabbly fill, with two X's, a Q, and four K's. And you include surprising letter patterns, like NASDAQ ending in a Q, X'S AND O'S starting with X, the consonant clumps in ST. NICK, the DX in PED XING. And some brand names, like MEAD notebooks and STAX chips (the Lay's version of Pringles), and some spoken English, like "YEAH, MAN" and "...OR NOT." And then there's pop culture, with two movie titles, TV's KEATONS, a song lyric, Wonder Woman's TIARA, and [People's 1999 Sexiest Man Alive], Richard GERE.

Favorite clues: [Judy Garland or Liza Minnelli] for GAY ICON; [It began in 1968, for tennis] for OPEN ERA; [Football coaching figures] for X'S AND O'S; [Slice, say] for SODAPOP (anyone thinking of SEGMENT first?); [Behind] for RUMP; [Dancer's guider, for short] for ST. NICK; [Female demon] for LAMIA (she ate children and was suitable for scaring kids into behaving well); [Jacket option] for LEATHER because my kid just announced that he wants a black leather jacket and his birthday's next month; [High-ranking suits] for CEOS; [Market for Microsoft] for NASDAQ, the stock market where its shares are traded; ["Scandalized Masks" painter, 1883] for James ENSOR, who's usually clued with reference to his Belgianness (that painting is seen here if you scroll down; scroll down further to see "Skeletons Fighting Over a Pickled Herring"); [Chanel fragrance for men] for EGOISTE (remember those goofy TV commercials? I think there was an SNL spoof of that ad campaign); [Wind] for SNAKE, both verbs; [Bit of cocoa?] for SILENT A; and [Met's lineup?] for ARIAS.

There's one clue that replicates one from the ACPT final puzzle–let's nobody call attention to it so we can minimize the spoilage for the at-home solvers.

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Friday, 2/22

NYS 7:45
NYT 7:35
CHE tba
LAT 4:05
Jonesin' 3:16
CS 2:26

WSJ 10:08

Two constructors who make mostly (or all?) themeless crosswords, Mike Nothnagel and David Quarfoot, teamed up on the Friday New York Times puzzle. Just because there were two of them, I don't think the clues had to feel Saturdayish, but they sort of do. The grid's left and right halves are linked by just two squares, so it's almost like having two separate puzzles. That upper left zone was the toughest corner for me. In the opposite quadrant lies my favorite answer, the plastic nostalgia of an [Outdoor toy that attaches to a garden hose]. SLIP 'N SLIDE!


Favorite clues: [Awfully accurate?] for SAD BUT TRUE; ["What's ___?"] for DOING; [They might indicate hunger] for MEOWS; [Start of some how-to titles] for THE ART (but shouldn't the SODA CAN clue then avoid the word art?); [Response of feigned innocence] for "WHO, ME?"; [Shortening in the kitchen?] for the abbreviation TBSP; the verb [Level] for TEAR DOWN; [Dine, in Dusseldorf] for ESSEN (the verb "to eat"); the noun [Hide in the woods] for DEERSKIN; [It's out for a pout] for LOWER LIP; ["That's Amore" setting] for old NAPOLI; and [Photo flaw] for RED-EYE.

Less-than-obvious clues: [Jarrow's river] for TYNE; [Singer of the 1967 hit "California Nights"] for LESLEY GORE (all I know her for is "It's My Party"); [Queen in a long-running comic strip] for ALETA; [Mil. V.I.P.] for SGT MAJ; [Eye component] for AREOLA; [Poet who won a Pulitzer for "The Dust Which Is God"] for BENET; [Where I-25 and I-70 meet] for DENVER; [Kinkajou's kin: Var.] for RACOONS (the spelling grates, but can we really get upset when the word comes from Algonquin and the English spelling might be rather arbitrary?); [1883 Maupassant novel] for UNE VIE (raise your hand if you thought you were filling in a one-word name along the lines of Sylvie, the mystifying UNEVIE, rather than a two-word French title); and [Execute exactly] for the four-word phrase DO TO A TEE.

Good gravy, I'm sleepy! On with the blogging anyway: The New York Sun puzzle is by David Kahn, yet another 15x16 and yet another Oscar-related theme. The [ET] rebus is justified by THE FRENCH / CONNECTION, ET being French for the conjunction/connecting word "and." (The puzzle's title translates, "And for You, Monsieur?") The [ET] rebus occupies six movie titles, four Across and two shorter ones Down—that's a whole lotta theme. In the fill, I'd never heard of the SEABOB, a [Hand-held water propulsion device]. B[ET] ON IT, the High School Musical 2 song, I learned a few days ago from another crossword. I liked the crossing of ["CHiPs" nickname] PONCH and Daily KOS. I knew Ursa Minor meant "Little Bear," but the phrasing LESSER BEAR is looking mighty unfamiliar; I like to call it the the Little Dipper myself.

I'd write more, but I seem to be having a paradoxical reaction to the extra caffeine tonight (I'm training to stay up late Friday night!) and am too drowsy to think.

Updated:

Martin Ashwood-Smith's CrosSynergy puzzle is Monday-easy and very meta. It's called "Introspection" and it's self-referential. 17-Across, [What this is]: SEVENTEEN ACROSS. 36-Across, [Feature of this grid]: SEVENTY-SIX CLUES. 55-Across, [Arthur Wynne invention] and what you're looking at: CROSSWORD PUZZLE. Some lively fill here: DAVID FROST, my son BENJAMIN, CENTAURS, and some economics with a TRADE WAR and STATE TAX.

Jeremy Horwitz's LA Times crossword could be titled "I'm Outta Here, Not In"—the IM- and IN- prefixes that negate are dropped from four words that lack an unprefixed opposite. PECCABLE TASTE is not so tasteful, and PROMPTU SPEAKING would be a [Lecture with no ad-libbing?], for example. I just learned recently from the Sun puzzle that a SHOE is a thingy that holds multiple decks of cards for a dealer. Funniest clue: [Elder hostile?] for AGEIST.

Matt Jones's Jonesin' crossword, "Take a Bow," spotlights four famous wearers of bow ties. Senator Paul Simon didn't make the cut, and I didn't know two of the dudes in the puzzle were known for their neckwear. Here's WALTER GROPIUS, and here's ALFRED KINSEY; yep, bow ties on both. Easy puzzle, in any case. I liked the crossing of UH-HUH and OH NO and the inclusion of plenty of pop-culture names. There's also an old word, REAVE (definitions and etymology here), meaning [Plunder], among other senses.

Moving to the 21x21 size, Tyler Hinman's Wall Street Journal crossword was tougher than I was expecting a "Birds of Action" theme to be. The eight theme answers are all clued with birds that double as verbs. And one of the clues has two synonymous bird verbs, [GULL or ROOK]—LURE INTO A SCAM. Highlights in the fill: HASHISH sitting atop STINKO several rows below ON MEDS (a fresh and lively entry with one prior in Cruciverb, a 2006 NYT puzzle); MR CLEAN; EARBUD; TOM SNYDER; the RIAA, [Org. that's the plaintiff in some file-sharing lawsuits]; and ICE WATER in the veins. LUCIE is clued as [Charles Darnay's love]; that's from Dickens' Tale of Two Cities. Favorite clues: [Lucky man?] for Lucky LUCIANO; [What someone in a doctor's office is, or may need to be] for PATIENT; and [Clubs used at clubs] for golf IRONS. I didn't know that [Pitcher's perches] are SLABS—presumably baseball slang—and that B was the first letter I needed for the [Mineral also called heavy spar]. The who? Wha? Here's some more info about barite. It's also called Bologna stone. "My heavy spar has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R..."

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Friday, 1/25

Jonesin' 5:45
NYS 5:36
NYT 5:17
CHE 4:34
LAT 4:25
CS 2:52

WSJ 6:39

The Friday New York Times puzzle by David Quarfoot wasn't one of those that lent itself to jumping right in. 1-Across, [War-torn Baghdad suburb], and 9-Across, [23-Across and others] linked to [Shade shade]. Whuzzah? Fortunately, my eye caught sight of [11 1/2" soldier], which had to be GI JOE, and that got me started. Eventually the crossings in the northwest corner pushed me towards SADR CITY, with its chunk of consonants in the middle. And 9-Across turned out to be BEIGES, linked to ECRU. Another cross-referenced pair is the musical A SHARP ([It's almost a B, scorewise]) with E MAJOR ([Key that doesn't include 58-Across].

My favorite clues and fill: [One and only] for TRUE LOVE; [Fleet runner of myth] for ATALANTA (the Free to Be You and Me version is far superior to the Greek myth); [Powerful piece] for a chess QUEEN; [Boarding spot] for SLOPE (think snowboarding); two baseball bits, YER OUT (great clue, [Call from home]) and MEL OTT's full name (he was the 1936 N.L. leader in slugging percentage]); AVENUE C, [Part of Manhattan's Alphabet City]; "DON'T LIE," "I SEE IT," and "YES, INDEED"; [Underhand?] for PEON (er, not PALM); [Pilot's place] for both a GAS RANGE and the SKY; [Apple application] for ITUNES; [Judge of films] for REINHOLD (cheesy pop culture! Would you believe Reinhold is 50?); ARTICLE VI, which [forbids religious tests for political office]; [Piehole] for TRAP; E.C. SEGAR ([Swee' Pea's creator]); CYRANO crossing CELICA most mellifluously; and uncommon plural DISCI for [Track-and-field equipment].

My most favoritest entry in this grid has got to be KIM JONG-IL, the North Korean [Head of state known to his people as "Dear Leader"]. For a look at the surreal experience that is being a Westerner in North Korea, check out Guy Delisle's graphic memoir, Pyongyang: A Journey in North Korea. It's by turns funny, weird, and haunting. And what makes it easier to absorb lessons about unfamiliar cultures than a comic book? If you like travel books, insane dictators, and/or comic books, you will love Pyongyang. (Juche!)

Raise your hand if you know Mr. SOREN, [Archaeologist David who found the lost Roman city of Kourion]. He's much less Google-hot than Soren Kierkegaard and Tabitha Soren.

The 15x16 New York Sun crossword by Kelsey Blakley, "It's Elemental," hinges on expanding chemical symbols into elements' full names. Narrated expands Na to make SODIUM R-RATED. Automate expands Au to GOLD TO MATE. Fe is iron, so the femoral nerve turns into IRON MORAL NERVE. For sheer ridiculousness, you can't beat [Gathering celebrating cassiterite?], or TIN ORE FEST (Sn-orefest). Cu is copper, so the cured ham expands into COPPER-RED HAM. Lots of interesting fill, like the multi-word GO OFF, OD'S ON, and "SIR, NO SIR" ([Grunt's negative]).

Favorite clues: [Shaker mover and shaker?] for ANN LEE; [Ruin] for DAMN; MEAT [wagon (ambulance, in slang)]; [Amour-propre] for EGO; [Peaked] for ILL; [Christmas trees?] for PEARS (from "The Twelve Days of Christmas"); and [Butcher on "The Brady Bunch"] for SAM the butcher. The actor who played Sam the butcher, Allan Melvin, died a week ago. R.I.P.

Matt Jones's Jonesin' crossword, "Vote Early," embeds the postal abbreviation for the six states with the earliest primaries or caucuses in existing phrases, warping them into something quite different. Dry dock picks up Iowa: DIARY DOCK. Che Guevara takes Wyoming: CHEWY GUEVARA (this one's my fave). The Showtime series The L Word visits New Hampshire for THE NHL WORD. Hong Kong and Michigan team up for HOMING KONG; Nevada invades a slow cooker for SLOW CONVOKER (meh); and pot pies in South Carolina become POT PISCES ([Stoner born in March, perhaps?]). Lotsa phrases in the fill, but it's the theme I enjoyed most here.

Updated:

The Wall Street Journal puzzle from Randolph Ross is called "Climate Change," and the eight theme entries swap weather-related terms to flip-flop the prevailing conditions. Cool Hand Luke becomes WARM HAND LUKE, Foggy Bottom becomes CLEAR BOTTOM, "warm and fuzzy" turns into COOL AND FUZZY like a refrigerated peach, and WET/DRY and HOT/COLD also trade places. Once one theme entry was in position, the rest became much easier.

Sarah Keller's CrosSynergy puzzle, "On-screen Illumination," bundles four movie titles that end with the words DAY, MOON, BACK, and FLASH, all of which can be followed by LIGHT (the central entry). Good, light (appropriately!) puzzle, with plenty of names in the grid—the names make it easy for me, but I know some people get bogged down by a crossword that has a preponderance of names (over a dozen here).

Michael Ashley's January 25 Chronicle of Higher Education crossword, "Carriage Trade," demands familiarity with the names of old carriages and a willingness to pun with them. The HANSOM DEVIL and CHAISE MANHATTAN (cf. Chase Bank's old name), sure. Piece of cake. BROUGHAM CLOSET and COACH POTATO, fine. But DELPHIC CURRICLE? Are curricles well-known enough in academic circles? I didn't know the word, but then, I never read Northanger Abbey. (Is this the same Michael Ashley whose acrostics I've been doing in Games magazine lo these many years?)

(Friday-morning breakfast test violation and pointless tangent: Keller's puzzle contains ORACLE and Ashley's plays on "Delphic oracle." Around these parts, we've taken to using "the Oracle of Sphincter" as a euphemism for certain unseen emissions. Is this Oracle's wisdom any less valid than that divined from an array of tea leaves in a cup? I think not. Listen and the secrets of life will be revealed to you.)

The theme in Donna Levin's LA Times crossword puns on Scottish words (with one pun also swapping in a cholesterol-lowering medication). In the fill, boring ol' RTES is updated with [MapQuest offerings: Abbr.] Really, is anyone under the age of 60 still getting their route recommendations from AAA? Sure, AAA's little Triptyk book of maps is handy, but it takes a lot less time to print out your maps from the internet. (GoogleMaps is better than MapQuest, if you ask me.) Factoid I learned: JEAN is a [Cotton textile named for an Italian city], Genoa. Now, I knew denim was derived from de Nimes, but how did I not know the jean/Genoa link?

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Friday, 10/26

CHE 7:35—Download this if you like tough crosswords
NYS 6:15
NYT 5:42
LAT 4:28
CS 3:52
Jonesin' 3:35

WSJ 8:58

It's la Dia de dos Davids! (Por favor, excuse the bad Spanish.) The Davids Quarfoot and Kahn headline the NYT and Sun crosswords for Friday.

David Quarfoot's New York Times puzzle has a zillion 7-letter entries that really sparkle. Three entries are creatures of the internet: Rupert Murdoch's News Corporation's MYSPACE, the [Modern rental option] NETFLIX, and the E-TICKET you get when you book a flight online. Spoken discourse brings us I'M NOT YOU (["Let me live my own life!"]), HAS A COW, OMIGOSH (["Heavens!"]), ROCK ON (["Way to go, dude!"]), and HERE I AM! The Flintstones gets a shout-out with MR SLATE (which I first parsed as MRS LATE), clued as [Cartoon boss working at a quarry]. Other multi-word entries I admired include IO MOTHS ([Yellow fliers with large eyespots]); YOKO ONO ([Poem reader at the 2006 Olympics opening ceremony]); RED WINE (["Cab," e.g.], meaning cabernet sauvignon); PGA TOUR; the NY TIMES; a LOVE SET in tennis ([Lopsided court result]); and SILENT C, the [Center of Connecticut]. Other notable clues: [Get a handle on?] for TITLE; [Buries] for TROUNCES; the misleading [Taper] for VCR; [Was sluggish?] for CREPT (here's a nature video of slugs creeping together...and then having dizzying slug sex); [Gaga] for SMITTEN; [Little women] for PETITES; and [He wrote "It's certain that fine women eat / A crazy salad with their meat"], a line from this poem by YEATS.

In David Kahn's New York Sun puzzle, "Fall Guys of the '70s" are sort of a blend between the Boys of Summer and Mr. October—the five baseball players whose last names end the theme entries were all WORLD SERIES MVPS in the 1970s. Roberto (SAN) CLEMENTE won in 1971; Rollie (LADY)FINGERS in 1974; Pete (HONEYSUCKLE) ROSE, 1975; Johnny (PARK) BENCH, 1976; and the ridiculously named Bucky (MADE A) DENT, 1978. ("Bucky"? That name's fine...if you're a cartoony badger mascot. Speaking of sports mascots, did you know they've got their own Hall of Fame? No lie.) Anyway: a 70-letter theme is big and impressive. Outside of that, my favorite clues were [___ Roni] for PASTA (not RICE-A!); [Place for free shots] for an OPEN BAR; [Tennessee county that was the setting of the Scopes trial] for RHEA (hey! a fresh clue for an old answer); [Villein] for SERF; [Watered down] for VAPID; and [Rebel with a cause?] for CHE Guevara. I didn't much like [Leaves in a hot state?] for LEI—I thought leis were more blossoms than leaves, and this site says Hawaii's summertime high temp is around 84°, which is more warm than hot. Hawaii's got nothing on Arizona or Vegas for heat, no?

Matt Jones's Jonesin' puzzle, "Un-Scary Movie," alters one letter in five horror movie titles and describes the new creations in the clues. The Omen turned into a movie about baking cookies? It becomesTHE OVEN. The Grudge becomes THE GRUNGE, and Hellraiser morphs into a volunteer organizer, a HELP RAISER. Pretty easy for a Jonesin' crossword overall. My very favorite clue: [Menu phrase often misused after "served with"] for AU JUS. You can Google up plenty of menus, like this one, that say the roast beef sandwich is "served with au jus sauce," and it must be said that the addition of the word sauce just makes it fancier. I also liked [Jeans brand with a question mark] for GUESS.

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It took me a while to see what was going on with the theme in Harvey Estes' Wall Street Journal puzzle. It's called "Taking Up a Collection," and the first two theme entries, CHASING LIKE A BIRD and LOONY BRITAIN, made no sense to me. Eventually I came to the central entry, CHARITABLE DONATIONS, and saw that chunks of that phrase were being "donated" to the phrases that were the seeds of the theme entry. Thus, CHA + "sing like a bird," and RITA = "loony bin." Then come I AMBLED I SAID, CAPTAIN'S LOGO, NATURAL RIVER, and ONIONS COMMISSION. Most elegantly wrought. Terrific clues throughout the puzzle, too. My pets: [Renovation] for FACELIFT; [Runway model] for PLANE; [Slips between the covers?] for ERRATA sheets; [Wheaties, e.g.] for FLAKES; [Singer of "Footloose"] for actress LORI Singer, not a singer of the song by that name; [They're not critical] for YES-MEN; and [Steel works?] for Danielle Steel NOVELS. Best fill: REBRAND, DANNY THOMAS, ROSES ARE RED, LIP GLOSS, FIDGET, MISS USA, POLONAISE, and SPACE CAMP.

Gary Steinmehl's LA Times crossword takes __CKS words and swaps them out for sound-alike __X words. [Have salmon-phobia?] is DREAD LOX, playing on dreadlocks. An [Albany veto] is a NEW YORK NIX. Those were my favorites among the five theme entries. My favorite non-theme answer adds yet another X to the grid: TEXTING, [Sending messages, in a way]. I love it when words that have only recently been added to our daily discourse make their way into crosswords.

Jonathan Pederson's 10/12 Chronicle of Higher Education puzzle is a must for anyone who likes those knotty, twisty, toy-with-convention crosswords. Four lines of the theme explain how the gimmick works: ALTERNATE / LINES READ IN / THE OPPOSITE / DIRECTION. The answer in the middle is NODEHPORTSUOB, or boustrophedon backwards. It's from the Greek for "turning like oxen in ploughing"—i.e., you get to the end of one row and turn around to travel the opposite direction to the other end of the next row. Until you grasp the theme, all those backwards answers are perplexing. And they're not all easy words, either! [How the speed of light is measured] is in vacuo forwards, UOCAVNI backwards. Tough clues + oddball theme = maximum mind-bending fun.

Patrick Blindauer's CrosSynergy puzzle has an ordinary sort of theme. Yes, there's a Blindauer byline, but the CrosSynergy puzzles generally eschew bendy gimmicks, rebuses, or (except for puzzles by Bob Klahn) tough cluing. The theme in "Inside: The NFL" is that NFL is embedded in each theme entry. There are six theme entries (64 squares), so it's ambitious in that sense. Two bonus points for the inclusion of NAKED LUNCH, the William Burroughs novel. I never read the book, but it was made into a movie in the '90s...a bizarre movie. Picture a typewriter...with an anus...and a jones for roach powder made from mugwump jism, mugwumps being creepy giant wormy critters.

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Saturday, 10/6

Newsday 9:42
NYT 6:52
LAT 5:48
CS 3:29

The Messrs. Q (Brendan Emmett Quigley and David Quarfoot) have teamed up on a 72-word themeless puzzle for the New York Times that exemplifies what a Saturday NYT crossword should be: gobs of lively and fresh entries, seasoned with uncommon letters and unusual letter patterns, language the way it's spoken, clues that make us think, and some straight-up tough stuff. The spoken-language category is well represented by Y'ALL, SCREW IT (probably making its mainstream newspaper crossword debut here), HOOEY, PODUNK, and IS THAT SO. Unexpected letter sequences are found in NFL DRAFT (7 consonants to 1 vowel—SCHWAB and BURNT also have but a single vowel), PVC PIPE, and XTERRA. Brendan's one of the contributors to the crossword in THE ONION ([Paper that calls itself "America's Finest News Source"]). Scrabbly answers include KUWAITI, TIME ZONE, JANE DOE, and NETFLIX. Interesting answers include PACE CARS, EAU DE VIE ([Brandy] is "water of life"? Bleh. I mean, Riesling I could see. But brandy?), FEVERFEW, and LUMIERE (clued here as [Early filmmaking brothers Auguste and Louis ___], but I prefer the indelible candlestick character in Beauty and the Beast, voiced by Jerry Orbach).

Favorite clues/entries: [Atkins diet no-no] for BUN; DRACO Malfoy, the arrogant twit in the Harry Potter series; [Pitch problems?] for BALKS in baseball; [Ruffles] for TEES OFF; ["Oh, I give up!"] for SCREW IT; [Rot] for HOOEY; [Minus sign equivalent] for EN DASH (those of you who just use a hyphen for minus, knock it off! your hyphen is too short to stand up to those digits); [Reunion gatherers] for the doesn't-end-in-S CLAN, and the does-end-with-an-S LEES from [Refuse]; [Part of "the many," in Greek] for HOI (polloi is the other part); plain and simple [Some] for A COUPLE; [Mountain, e.g.] for TIME ZONE; [It's far from a metropolis] for PODUNK; [Black, say] for BURNT; WAR CRIES in the same puzzle as CRUSADE; [Dialectal contraction] for Y'ALL; and [Like some books] for COOKED.

Toughest answers: ["No god but God" author ___ Aslan] for REZA; [German city where Napoleon defeated the Prussians] for JENA (also a town in Louisiana much in the news of late); [Fractional currency] for SCRIP; [Apollo's birthplace] for DELOS; and [Zoological cavity] for CLOACA (possibly the raciest and most scatological word ever included in a Times puzzle—Wikipedia just told me that some turtles breathe through the cloaca while diving).

My family has chanced upon three different Indy 500 PACE CARS, and I photographed my son beside the cars twice. I tried posting one here, but Blogger's being uncooperative.

Updated:

All right, I'm practically falling asleep, but I want to get through the other Saturday puzzles since they're available and I won't have time in the morning. Will be heading up to Wisconsin for the weekend, and may tote my iBook to solve/blog from the BP gas station. It's less than a block from my in-laws'—is it kosher to walk to a gas station, park oneself on the couch, and make use of the wi-fi?

The Newsday Saturday Stumper by "Anna Stiga" (Stan Newman's alter ego) is good. Moderately Scrabbly, a great trivia factoid in the clue for MOTOROLA ([Name first used for car radios], hence the "motor" part), great letter sequence in NCWYETH, a crazy Trekkie ROMULAN, and more. Probably not as hard as my relative times indicate—as I said, I am sleeepy. But I liked the puzzle.

I also liked Doug Peterson's LA Times puzzle. Highlights, briefly: [Secret spot?] for ARMPIT made me laugh. URBAN LEGEND, AMOS N ANDY, MNEMONIC DEVICES, and I'M A LITTLE TEAPOT are terrific entries. Some crosswords with triple-stacked 15s can feel like slogs, but this one was as refreshing as a pellet of cool mint chewing gum. (Which I like.)

Martin Ashwood-Smith's CrosSynergy puzzle must have a theme. I didn't notice one while solving (and nearly dozing). Let's see: I did notice that after all. Each theme entry is a contrived phrase containing three O's in the middle(ish).

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