Sunday, 5/24

NYT 6:22
PI about 8 minutes (paper)
LAT 8:04
BG about 9 minutes (paper)
CS about 4 minutes (paper)

Liz Gorski's New York Times crossword, "Perpetual Motion"

I don't know about you, but I'd never heard of the guy at 29D, who was clued only with [See note]. The notepad (which worked perfectly in the applet) says that he invented the figure you outline when you play connext-the-dots with the circled squares, and that the other five theme entries (all starred) give a hint:

• 21A. [2007 Ken Follett novel] is WORLD WITHOUT END.
  
• 25A. [Bond film that's a real gem?] is DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER.
  
• 100A. [Alexander Pope phrase appropriate to the start of a sports season] is HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL. See: Chicago Cubs.
  
• 104A. [1974 Carl Carlton hit] is EVERLASTING LOVE.
  
• 47D. [Song by Tejano singer Selena] is ALWAYS MINE.

Without end, forever, eternal, everlasting, and always suggest infinity, and the circled letters spell out SYMBOL OF INFINITY when you trace the shape of the infinity symbol—which was devised by JOHN WALLIS at 29D.

Good things about this puzzle: (1) The visual oomph. (2) The well-executed and elegantly thought-out theme concept. (3) The overall smoothness of the fill and clues—I didn't hit any icy patches. Bad things: Is zero the opposity of infinity?

Clue roundup:

• 10A. [Scot's exclamation] is OCH, not ACH.
  
• 13A. SHAD is [The fish in John McPhee's "The Founding Fish"]. I haven't read that one, but loved the geology primer in McPhee's Basin and Range.
  
• 30A. [Kisser, so to speak] is your face, a.k.a. VISAGE. FACE is at 57D, clued as [Makeup target].
  
• 34A. ARNETTS is clued as [Newsman Peter and others]. What, Will Arnett of Arrested Development, husband of Amy Poehler, isn't by far the more famous Arnett now?
  
• 52A. YECCH, which is also spelled yech (less effectively), means ["That's disgusting!"].
  
• 66A. I'm fond of the analogy clues, which seem to be a Shortz/NYT thing. [Knesset : Jerusalem :: Storting : ___] OSLO.
  
• 75A. The Latin phrase IN ESSE means [Real].
  
• 88A. [Fivesomes] are PENTADS, and no, I don't think I've ever had cause to use this word.
  
• 91A. [Gonitis locale] is the KNEE. I don't know that "gonitis" is commonly used in orthopedic circles. Is there an orthopod in the house?
  
• 110A. The crosswordese bay windows called ORIELS are [Victorian home features].
  
• 114A. Thank you, Mr. WYNNE. That's [Arthur ___, inventor of the crossword puzzle]. Well done!
  
• 3D. ISR., or Israel, is the [Country whose national anthem's title means "The Hope": Abbr.].
  
• 4D, 6D. Temperature extremes! COLD ONE is a [Brewski] and a HOT OVEN is a [Baking need]. Indeed, we preheated the oven yesterday before putting the oatmeal/dark chocolate chip/pecan/dried fruit cookies in.
  
• 10D. [Has thirds or fourths, say] clues OVEREATS.
  
• 20D. The one who's WORST OFF is [Most in need of help]. Good entry.
  
• 62D. This one feels awkward. ["Win ___ of..." (contest come-on)] clues A SET. How many contest prizes are sets of anything?
  
• 63D. Liz is a musician, so I'm guessing the [C to C#, e.g.] clue for HALF STEP is hers and not Will's.
  
• 79D. EXEGESES are [Biblical interpretations] or critical interpretations of other texts.
  
• 81D. INSANEST is clued [Most ready for commitment?].
  
• [Six years before the Battle of Hastings] is MLX, or 1060.
  
• 86D. BASE TEN is a [Common thing to count in].
  
• 87D. [Thick-___] SKULLED shares most of its letters with thick-SKINNED. I wonder how many people opted for the latter.

Is it just me, or was this puzzle easier than you were expecting, too?

Updated Saturday night:

Merl Reagle's Philadelphia Inquirer crossword, "Celebrity Anagrams"

What a fun theme! I do like anagrams, especially when they're apt and entertaining. Here, Merl takes 11 (!) famous people's names and anagrams them into words that are part of the clue. ["A) I TEND TO SCOWL, and b) I do it less when I direct"] clues squinty auteur CLINT EASTWOOD. [His slogan could be "JEST, NOT WAR"] refers to JON STEWART (whose fondness for crosswords goes unremarked in this puzzle). KATIE HOLMES is an anagram of the beginning of [SHE LIKE-A TOM (and Tom like-a her)]. Ouch! The LIKE-A bit strains things a bit. Poor TONY BLAIR—["I used to be in charge, but now you could say I'm ONLY A BRIT"]. CHRISTINA APPLEGATE is the [Actress (and crossword fan) known for her APPEALING THEATRICS; she outed herself in a comment at Rex's blog when her too-long-for-crosswordese name was in an NYT puzzle, and has talked about crosswords in Entertainment Weekly and on Letterman. [He'll help you ENJOY L.A.] clues JAY LENO, though I don't know how he'd help me enjoy L.A.—maybe by leaving it? I hadn't seen this short theme entry when I was working through the theme clues without any crossings, but I like to think it would've been a gimme too. [AH, I SPEAK A SWELL RIME (and I write okay, too)] perfectly captures WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE's writing style, doesn't it? JOE NAMATH is clued, [OH MAN, A JET is what I used to be"]. I couldn't figure out [Acting may be the HAMMIEST GIG, but not when she does it]—the GIG part planted GIGI firmly in my head, so I needed some crossings for MAGGIE SMITH to emerge. Same with TIM RUSSERT, clued with [His interviewing motto could have been "TRUST ME, SIR"]. MARY MAGDALENE was easier to tease out of [LEGENDARY MAMA in "The Da Vinci Code" (an anagram not mentioned in the original book)].

If you have an aptitude for anagramming, I'll bet you savored this puzzle's theme. If you can't anagram your way out of A PEP GRAB, I hope you had fun pondering the clues and teasing the answers out of the crossings.

Emily Cox and Henry Rathvon's non-current Boston Globe crossword, "State Pairs"

The portmanteaued constructing duo Hex form portmanteau names of two states in the theme clues, and the answers are the nickname that would result from combining the two states. For example, Delaware is called the First State and Georgia's the Peach State, so "Delaworgia" is the FIRST PEACH state. The pairings don't always make much sense—Nevatah (Nevada + Utah) is the SILVER BEEHIVE state, and, well, beehives aren't made of metal, nor are they silver-hued. Call me crazy, but I would have adored this theme if the clues and answers hade been swapped. Having to figure out which states to blend and how to blend them would've been fun, even if the "correct" spelling might seem arbitrary. Imagine if NEW JERK (New Jersey + New York) and ARKACHUSETTS (Arkansas + Massachusetts) had been answers in the grid! And actually, these eight theme entries used up only 18 state nicknames, so there are 32 more that are ripe for the mashing—and the states in this puzzle could be recombined in novel ways. Oklafornia, for example. So, come on, someone make that puzzle!

Updated Sunday afternoon:

Kevin Donovan's syndicated Los Angeles Times Sunday crossword, "Keeping an Eye Out"

Hey, it's almost time for the Monday NYT puzzle to come out online, so in lieu of writing about this puzzle now, let me instead refer you to PuzzleGirl's L.A. Crossword Confidential post. I did this crossword this morning, but I barely remember it—the intervening hours of my kid's homework drama have purged my brain of sentient thought. The puzzle...no, no. That won't work. I'm empty.

Randolph Ross's themeless CrosSynergy "Sunday Challenge"

Fairly easy puzzle, as themelesses go. Liked SEE YA LATER, TCHOTCHKE, THE REDS ([Ohio players], not to be confused with the Ohio Players of '70s funk), and fancy HETERODOXY ([Non-traditional beliefs]). Less thrilled with roll-your-own REPACKED, LAI and FRISCH surnames, N.A.R. initials, and plural brand name ATRAS.

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Monday, 12/29

NYT 3:01
Sun 3:00
CS 2:59
LAT 2:18

(updated at 7:37 p.m. Monday)

The key to the theme in Kevin Donovan's New York Times crossword is 54-Down: [Something 18-, 26-, 42- or 51-Across might have] is a RUN. Mind you, the three Across answers that intersect with RUN were easy enough to fill in without ever looking at the clue for 54-Down, so I had zero idea what the theme was when I finished the puzzle. The four things with RUNs are:

• RUMMY HAND, which [might include a 10, jack, queen and king of hearts];
  
• BASEBALL GAME, clued as a [Yankees/Red Sox matchup, e.g.];
  
• BROADWAY PLAY, which is a [Candidate for a Tony]; and
  
• PANTYHOSE, a [L'eggs product].
  

This crossword's got some answers that we don't often see in a Monday puzzle. BIG TOE is [Something often stubbed]. [Most morose] means GLUMMEST. NO DOUBT means ["Absolutely"] as well as being the name of Gwen Stefani's band. Steve CARELL of The Office entertains me on Thursday nights. To REPHRASE something is to [Say another way]. [Much ballyhooed] is HYPED UP. Favorite clues: [Like half of Istanbul] for ASIAN; [Like an N.B.A. center] for TALL; and [Sunbathe] for TAN—sunbathing this week was lovely, but now that I've passed through O'HARE, the [Chicago air hub], I am months away from another sunbathing opportunity.

Updated Sunday evening:

Peter Gordon's alter ego, Ogden Porter, constructed the Monday Sun crossword, "Foodies." The six theme entries are food metaphors for people. A STRINGBEAN is a [Tall, thin person]. An [Insignificant person] is a PEANUT. A [Show-offy person] is called a HOT DOG. BUTTERBALL is a [Chubby person]. A [Crazy person] is a FRUITCAKE, and I'm pleased to note that I have encountered no literal fruitcake this holiday season. A [Weak person] may be called a CREAMPUFF. If you ate too much of that stuff, you might be hankering for ROLAIDS ([Ad answer to "How do you spell relief?"]). Other food-related answers include QUIZNOS, TUNA, Seven SEAS salad dressing, LIMES, SALAD, and the AGRIBIZ that provides some of this stuff. There's such a thing as GENOA salami, but the answer gets clued non-foodly as [Port south of Milan]. Non-theme answers of note: SAPPHIC, [Like some odes]; SHEILA E., [Former percussionist with Prince]; and NOZZLES, or [Hose spouts], with a double Z.

Updated Monday morning:

The Across Lite version of the LA Times puzzle isn't posted yet at Cruciverb, so check back this afternoon for that one.

Nancy Salomon's CrosSynergy crossword, "Midafternoon," finds PMS—[Afternoons, briefly (and hint to this puzzle's theme)]—in the midst of the long answers:

• CHEAP MONEY is a [Result of low interest rates]. Is this term readily familiar to most of you?
  
• SCRAP METAL is [Some industrial waste].
  
• STRIP MALLS are [Easy-park shopping centers].
  
• SLEEP MASKS are [Light blockers for slumberers.
  

I'm still waiting for PMS = premenstrual syndrome to be deemed acceptable for daily crosswords. It's not cancer, it's not scatological—it seems fussy to have it always be the plural of P.M. in crosswordland. Does mention of PMS really make anyone squeamish?

Good fill includes DR. PHIL, POP-TOP, the UPSHOT and LAY-UPS, and TEAM USA, the [2008 women's basketball gold medalists]. Salomon took a gamble on cluing RENO as [Betting setting] three answers before the [Skeptic's snort] I BET.

Updated Monday evening:

David Kahn's LA Times crossword was super-easy—all five long theme answers are "[name] THE [job]" monikers. When the clues and theme let you fill in a third of the puzzle with just five clues, everything else is bound to fall into place quickly too. The theme answers are:

• ROSIE THE RIVETER, the [Iconic WWII worker];
  
• BOB THE BUILDER, the [Animated kids' TV character with a yellow hardhat];
  
• DORA THE EXPLORER, another current-decade kids' cartoon character—[Toon girl who's always traveling];
  
• JOE THE PLUMBER, the [Middle America symbol of 2008 politics] who is on the way to becoming no more than a footnote in history; and
  
• POPEYE THE SAILOR, [Bluto's rival] for Olive Oyl's affections. Though it must be said, Bluto is an abuser who Olive seems quite unfond of.
  

You might think that OMOO ([Melville novel]) and ORONO ([Maine college town]) are out of place in an easy Monday crossword, but the rest of the fill is straightforward and familiar enough that these shouldn't have given anyone too much trouble.

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Sunday, 6/29, or "Crikey!"

NYT 9:05
PI 7:52
LAT 7:32
CS 3:43
Mike Nothnagel's second Sunday NYT puzzle (diagramless crossword)—untimed but fairly easy as these things go
(No Boston Globe puzzle in Across Lite this week, and probably not for the next week or two)

Okay, I'll be leaving for my cousin's wedding at 5:00, when the Sunday NYT comes out. It would be very poor form indeed to blow off the ceremony (the bride's brother, a secular mail-order minister, will officiate) in favor of crosswords and blogging, so let this be a placeholder until either very late this evening or Sunday morning.

Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves when you've done the puzzle(s), and I'll try to remember not to spoil the puzzles for myself by reading your comments before venturing into the crosswords.

Updated:

Okay, that was a late night and I'm still tired this morning.

The New York Times crossword by Tony Orbach and Patrick Blindauer, "Ten Grand Surplus," inserts a K (or two) into various phrases to create the theme entries. "Show me the money!" becomes SHOW ME THE MONKEY, an [Impatient kid's pea at a zoo?]. My favorite theme entry is TRIPLE KLUTZ, or [Worrisome type at a china shop], building on the ice-skating move called the triple lutz. It's hardly fair to clue RICA as [Villa ___ (town near Atlanta)] when a vowel crosses a French word (RIRE, or [Laugh, in Lille]), that's not among the 10 or so French words that non-Francophones are likely to know. Yesterday's bride's little sister, also my cousin, got married to a man from Costa RICA, which is surely more familiar to solvers than Villa Rica, Georgia. (ELKHART, Indiana, the [Indiana city near the Michigan border], may not be any more famous than the Georgia town, but it's from my region so I knew it, and it doesn't have an easier cluing option.) I don't know Jack LAWRENCE [who wrote the lyrics to "Tenderly"]. Lots of juicy, fill, though—an APE SUIT, a NOSEDIVE, J.M. BARRIE, STYGIAN ([Hellish], or pertaining to the river Styx), and a hotel-room MINIBAR ([Traveler's temptation]). Besides those town names, other geography includes UGANDANS ([Dwellers along Lake Victoria]), LA PLATA ([City once called Eva Peron]), EDINA (crosswords' favorite [Minneapolis suburb]!), ESSEN, UTAHAN, NEWARK, TONGA, and the USSR. Tony previously included ORFE, a [Golden pond fish], in a Saturday NYT puzzle, crossing CUCHIFRITO in deadly fashion; that's the thing about those really obscure words that you encounter in crosswords. You may say "I know I'll never see that word in another puzzle," but it may well show up and redeem its earlier appearance. It took me all the crossings to see that WORMS are [Nature's aerators]; I was thinking more passively of PORES.

Kevin Donovan's syndicated LA Times crossword, "Out in Front!", appears in the Chicago Tribune, I think in the Books section. Yesterday at the wedding, a relative asked me about 1-Across, which I hadn't seen yet. [1964 Nobel Prize decliner] turns out to be SARTRE, and if you ask me, the crossings are all quite gettable... The theme entries all add an OUT to the front of existing phrases. My favorite theme entry was the last one I came to, and I'm definitely someone who likes to save the best for last. (So don't even think about asking me for the last bite of a sandwich or a dessert—I've already eaten all the less appealing parts and have been looking forward to that one perfect morsel at the end.) [Not a good place to go on a windy day?] is an OUTHOUSE OF CARDS. This combines wordplay with juvenile potty humor, so I think it works beautifully! It paints a vivid picture of someone caught in an indelicate position as a tiny house of cards tumbles around him. I'm also partial to the [Golfer's reject?], an OUTCAST IRON, and [Where Billy the Kid studied?], OUTLAW SCHOOL.

Merl Reagle's Philadelphia Inquirer puzzle, "Deal!", features a bunch of puns involving the names of card games. I have never once played fantan, pinochle, whist, canasta, or skat. I may or may not have played a little poker as a kid, I played a little computer hearts, and rummy...that's gin rummy? Yeah, I've played that. Puns like YES YOU CANASTA QUESTION and WHISTWORLD don't grab me. Maybe it's just the headache talking. A couple TO*O answers weren't too familiar to me—TOHO is the ["Godzilla" studio, 1954] and TOPO Gigio is [Ed's mouse pal], I think. You need to be a good bit older than I to see a Gigio-less clue for TOPO and have any chance of getting it.

Paula Gamache's themeless CrosSynergy "Sunday Challenge" was a delight. Not as tough as I like a themeless to be, but packed with lively fill and a certain esprit de cluing. From childhood, there's the [Child's modeling medium], PLAY-DOH, and the [Yellow Seussian creature that may have a star on its belly], or SNEETCH. "I'M A GONER," "YES, LET'S," "GOT 'EM," and "OH, STOP IT" are colloquial English. [Silk and wool] are both FIBERS and FABRICS. ALOHA OE is a [Song written by Queen Lili'uokalani] of Hawaii. A [Façade component] is the CEDILLA dangling from the C. My son loves RAMEN, or [Japanese noodle soup]. BASS ALE and NETZERO join PLAY-DOH in the trade name zone. DEAR SIR and IDEA MEN give a bit of retro sexism. I love the word PASSEL ([Whole bunch]) just as much as I love the phrase "lousy with"—as in "This crossword has a passel of fun words in it, and it's lousy with light-hearted clues." CLIMATE CANARY, [Species that serves as an early warning system], is likely a phrase we'll be seeing much more of in the coming years; I just read that the North Pole ice may melt this summer. Thanks, Paula, for a fun puzzle!

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Monday, 3/3 and Tuesday, 3/4

Mon NYT 3:16 (typo!)
Tues NYT 4:43 (error!)
Mon NYS 3:17
Tues NYS 4:12
Tues LAT 2:58
Tues CS 3:15
Onion 4:35
Tausig 5:32

All righty, I'm finally feeling awake enough to remember how to do this crossword-blogging thing. Solve puzzles first, then write. We're playing partial catch-up, but pretending that Saturday and Sunday never happened. Because my son was home from school Monday and my mother visited us, I didn't get around to downloading any of the weekend puzzles. Photocopies of the Saturday and Sunday NYT and the Friday and Saturday LA Times puzzles were available at the tournament—I haven't gotten to the Friday LAT, but the other three were all delightful. Brad Silber for the Sat. LAT = lots of fun and Scrabbly fill. Brendan Quigley for the Sat. NYT = tough themeless and really fun. Patrick Blindauer and Tony Orbach's Sun. NYT = good theme entries and a fun puzzle, but I did it in an airborne haze). (Just looked at the Sun. NYT answer grid online at Rex's site, bigger and brighter than my paper-and-pencil, stuck-in-a-folder copy. Somebody somewhere had said that the entries were in some sort of alpha order and complete, and I see that is indeed the case. Kool-Aid to KOOL BID is A to B, the next theme entry changes C to D, then E to F, all the way through copy boy –> COPY BOZ with Y to Z. And fully symmetrical to boot, I'll bet. Impressive!)

Mon. NYT by C.W. Stewart: Five phrases starting with GET. Lively theme entries, a little harder to complete than most themes that contain repeated words. Slowish time for a Mon. for me, despite having seen Emily's drawing with two of the entries. Typo! Sticky keyboard! Logy brain!

Gary Disch's Mon. Sun: "Salivation Army" is the title. Each of three theme entries is a savory word + a military/word. Too bad Emily Cureton doesn't make Sun crossword drawings, because STRADDLE, COLONEL MUSTARD, JESUS, MOOING, and OKRAS are evoking some interesting tableaux.

Moving along to the Tues. NYT by Kevin Donovan: Yeah, see? Sleep deprivation is not good for cognition. UPLOADS is absolutelynot a reasonable answer for [Dumps (on)], nor is IRAP an [Oil-rich land]. IRAN! I was waiting to see if I needed an N or Q there and, well, then I forgot about that clue. And I paid zero attention to the theme while I was solving, THAT'S A WRAP means the other theme entries are different types of WRAPs: CELLOPHANE, a FEATHER BOA, and BEEF FAJITA bundled in a tortilla. I also couldn't make any sense out of [Overhead shots] as anything other than aerial photos, so tennis SMASHES required, well, six or seven crossings.

Nancy Salomon's Tues. Sun: I made it through alive! But I'm about ready to go to sleep now, and it's not even 10:00 yet. The "Text Tiles" theme is SCRABBLE, which is in the news of late owing to Scrabulous, the unlicensed online version everybody loves at Facebook. Four phrases are redefined as if they have to do with Scrabble—where DRAWING A BLANK is a good thing, for example. Favorite bits: ORANGE, clued as [Fall color] (although I am so much more!); RAYBAN sunglasses; a delicious SAMOSA (CUMIN was in one of the other puzzles I just did—also yum); FATCAT clued as [Moneybags] (FATCATS was also in one of these other puzzles); and [Carrots' cousins], PARSNIPS. How come we don't call white-haired people Parsnip-top?

Updated:

Four more crosswords, 40 minutes to solve and blog. Go!

Mel Rosen's CrosSynergy puzzle, "It's Getting Darker," has unrelated 15-letter phrases beginning with WHITE, GRAY, and BLACK. Fill highlights: Steve WOZNIAK, CZAR with its usual (outside of crosswords) spelling, TABLOID (clued as [Dirt carrier?]), and L'CHAIM.

Mike Peluso's LA Times crossword has a homophone theme, with pairs like GOOGLE GOOGOL and KRAIT CRATE. Highlights: PEA SOUP fog, the non-Tuesday clue [Lochinvars] for SUITORS, and a modicum of Scrabbliness. ST. PAT reminds me: our waiter at Junior's in Brooklyn was named St. Patrick, but he didn't look at all Irish. And PASS OUT reminds me: Someone passed out during David Kahn's puzzle #5 at the tournament, so there's a new measure for a crossword's difficulty. Did it make anyone lose consciousness? No? Then maybe it's not so tough.

Matt Jones's Onion A.V. Club crossword takes as its theme TV show titles that are literal. NIGHT COURT takes place there, and FRIENDS features a group of friends (but not the Quakers). Fill that tells you this is not the daily newspaper's puzzle: SUGE Knight along with EMINEM, I'm Gonna Git You SUCKA, WHIZ clued as [Leak], MYSPACE and RPG (role-playing game) in the same corner, and actress MYRNA Loy. Okay, that last one goes more with traditional crosswords than with the Onion.

Ben Tausig's Ink Well/Chicago Reader puzzle, "Pungs," has nothing to do with the sleigh of that name. Rather, words ending with N add a G to generate puns. Fake tan becomes FAKE TANG (my favorite beverage as a kid—well, real Tang, anyway), and "C'est bon" turns into [Statement in a French head shop?], "C'EST BONG." Tons of interesting fill and clues. DONAHUE [told Bill O'Reilly, "Loud doesn't mean right"]. I haven't seen the Egyptian pyramid city called EL GIZA before. T.S. ELIOT gets the full-name treatment. BIKINIS [have a top and a bottom, but no middle]. Bob Marley's "ONE LOVE," OKSANA Baiul, Swedish KRONOR testing your knowledge of foreign currency. Was not familiar with MF DOOM, the secretive hip-hop artist.

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