Ryan and Brian do Crosswords

New York Times 46:47
Philadelphia Inquirer 25:35
Boston Globe 20:43

New York Times: Sound Moves
by Daniel C. Bryant; edited by Will Shortz

Hi there… I won’t post much here because tomorrow night, Ryan and I are doing Episode Two of our Blogword Crosscast. In general, today’s puzzle was good, although I tend to feel a little ridiculous saying answers aloud while solving the puzzle. What with the theme answers in this grid being homophones with standard phrases, I found myself speaking aloud far too often. I should save that for the podcast…

Those theme answers are:

• 23A. Tax break for Gumby? : CLAY MAN EXEMPTION
• 35A. Blessing for a shipboard romance? : SEA LOVE APPROVAL
• 56A. Perhaps doesn’t believe witty Rogers? : MAY DOUBT A WILL — Although I got the answer here, I didn’t like the clue. A sentence with no subject? Meh.
• 76A. End-game maneuvers? : KEY PAWN MOVING — Wasn’t satisfied with this answer until the crossings, since “moving” in the answer and “moves” in the puzzle’s title made me question the choice.
• 92A. Excavate in the white cliffs? : MINED OVER MATTER
• 110A. Drab Oriental fabric? : GRAY TOILE OF CHINA — I had “twill” in there for too long, which set me back a good several minutes on that section alone.
• 16D. Sketch sewing-kit stores? : DRAW PIN CENTERS
• 46D. Clown’s parade memoir? : MY LAUGHTER MILE — I kept trying to make this answer have MACY’S in it somewhere, because of the parade part of the clue. Clearly, I have to be more smarter.

Philadelphia Inquirer: Greeks and Romans I’d Like To Meet
by Merl Reagle

Now that work has slowed down a bit, I’ll try and get a few of the other dailies back into my blog. Today’s Philadelphia Inquirer puzzle (which is also apparently running in the Washington Post — they have stopped presenting their own new puzzle each Sunday, sadly) is by Merl Reagle, and in typical fashion, sports a plethora of clever answers in a brain-twisting theme.

Each of the theme clues is the beginning of a statement made to a person — and the person’s name is the answer to the clue. Each name in these cases is a word that seems either rooted in Greek or Latin language origins, or at least sounds like it could be. The only problem I had with this was that while it was all very clever, I don’t think I know enough about Greek and Roman words or etymology to fully appreciate Mr. Reagle’s brilliance. I did this in about half the time it took me to finish the New York Times puzzle today, but it was less satisfying — through no fault of Mr. Reagle’s, of course. I am not smarter enough… The gimmicky answers are:

• 23A. “How’s the divorce going, ACRIMONIOUS?”
• 25A. “My thoughts exactly, TELEPATHY.”
• 32A. “We’re over here, MYOPIA.” — My personal favorite of the bunch.
• 37A. “How’s life in the fast lane, FABULOUS?” — My least favorite. How do “fast” and “fabulous” go together?
• 56A. “You’re getting warmer, HUMIDITIES.”
• 58A. “What are you up to now, NEFARIOUS?”
• 68A. “How’s the new diet coming, GASEOUS?”
• 71A. “Going to the party, RAUCOUS?”
• 75A. “Tough day, ARDUOUS?”
• 90A. “Interesting flavor… What’s your secret, CORIANDER?” — Here, I’m a little confused. Is the receiver of the statement intended to be named “Coriander,” or are we implying (with the statement) that the secret ingredient that makes the “interesting flavor” is “coriander”?
• 92A. “How’s the water, AMPHIBIOUS?”
• 104A. “Nice flower shirt, ANEMONES.”
• 111A. “You don’t look so good, NAUSEA.”
• 121A. “How’d the sit-in go, ARRESTEES?”
• 124A. “Unctuous, I’d like you to meet my friend, HYPOCRISIES.”

This theme reminds me of when theater composer Maury Yeston told me that he always wanted to write something in which there were a fleet of servant characters — maids, butlers, etc. — and have them all be named after diseases. Lines in the show could then be, “Could you prepare my bath, Clamidia?” and “Go answer the door, Ricketts.”

Boston Globe: Mother’s Helper
by Emily Cox and Henry Rathvon

Just wrapping up the day with my last Sunday offering. This was an absolute delight, and I’m coming to enjoy the Cox/Rathvon puzzles immensely. Perhaps they have a collection published? Perhaps they’re on Facebook? I don’t know. The theme here at first seemed to be German in nature, as the first two gimmick answers I got were 23A. Frank companion (SAUERKRAUT) and 110A. Hamburg homemakers (HAUSFRAUEN) — and I thought maybe it was some kind of twisted connection to the puzzle’s title, “Mother’s Helper.” And while GERMANY fit at 50D. This puzzle’s theme, I was sure that it wasn’t right. No way. What I quickly discovered was a much cleverer choice on the part of Ms. Cox and Mr. Rathvon, which was AU PAIRS. What fun!

• 25A. Author of the “New York Trilogy” : PAUL AUSTER
• 36A. Anthropologist who founded structuralism : CLAUDE LEVI STRAUSS
• 65A. High part of Canada : LAURENTIAN PLATEAU
• 89A. Wine from Gamay grapes : BEAU JOLAIS NOUVEAU
• 108A. New York lake and colony : CHAUTAUQUA

Great fun. Thank you for a delightful puzzle!

Watch this space tomorrow for a new podcast!

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New York Times 20:44
Boston Globe 31:30
Philadelphia Inquirer 19:12

I have spent most of today working on crossword puzzle designs of my own, and I’m currently stuck in the lower right of my own grid, unable to find a 10-letter word to sit atop one of my 15-letter theme answers. I’ve taken breaks from this task to attack the Sunday dailies that are on their way to the internet.

New York Times: Mixed Feelings
by Paula Gamache; edited by Will Shortz

I had a similar reaction to that of JimH, which was that the gimmick to this puzzle only really became apparent after everything was finished. About halfway through solving, I recognized that the circled letters in each answer could be anagrammed into a “feeling.” Having solved the Boston Globe puzzle earlier in the day (although it is featured lower down in this blog), and having played too many games of Scrabulous on Facebook, I have anagramming permanently etched into my brain. Don’t get me wrong — I’m not that good at it. But I still think in scrambled letters sometimes.
The solving of this puzzle went very quickly, although I did get stuck in a couple spots — twice due to mis-typing (or, as I caught myself once, typing too quickly for the Firefox applet to understand), and twice due to incorrect letters. I haven’t timed myself on too many Sunday puzzles, but this one is my best (Sunday) time so far.

There were a handful of sports clues on here, which made me wonder for a moment if there was a tie-in to the baseball season getting underway. (Incidentally, I will be at Yankee Stadium for opening day. I’ll be the tall one brining my own turkey sandwich into the park.) 6D. Elite athlete is an ALL-STAR; 93A. Big shot after making a big shot, maybe: Abbr. is the MVP, even if a “big shot” refers (most likely) to basketball; of course 30A. Wearer of uniform #37, retired by both the Yankees and the Mets is the inimitable CASEY STENGEL (I would have survived that clue with either the #37 or the Yankees/Mets thing, but didn’t need both); 118A. Bats, balls, gloves, etc. would be SPORTS EQUIPMENT (and specifically baseball); and I even wondered if part of the compound answer for 50A. Some business attire (PIN-STRIPED SUIT) might refer to the Yankees’ home uniforms.

I had a little trouble at the bottom in the middle, as I put the complete incorrect answer of ROME in for 123A. Capital of Italy (this clue deserved a question mark, as the answer was EURO). Combine this with my inability to be aware of things I had never learned with regards to 113A. K.G.B. predecessor (O.G.P.U., as it turns out, which might as well mean Old Guys Poop Ugliness, for all I know), and a I had a lot of problems in this area.

Elsewhere on the grid, I didn’t even see a few clues until I was complete, having done enough consecutive downs to not need the across, or vice verse. Good puzzle, and I did it quickly, which made me feel more smarter.

Boston Globe: Car Wrecks
by Henry Hook

I enjoyed this puzzle until the end, when I was stuck at a crossing for which I simply didn’t know either answer, and had no choice but to guess and guess until Across Lite gave me the happy pen. The troublesome square was between 38A. Maffia of “Nip/Tuck” (ROMA, at left) and 39D. Brit’s raincoat (MAC). Having neither seen a single episode of “Nip/Tuck” nor worn a raincoat in England, I had no idea what went there… Lots of things looked possible: RONA/NAC, RODA/DAC, ROXA/XAC (sure, why not?)… Oh well.

The theme was enjoyable, even if some of the answers were unfamiliar to me. I actually remembered to check the puzzle’s title (”Car Wrecks”), and immediately discovered the game. Theme clues were listed in all capital letters and were awkward anagrams of car make and model names. The first one that jumped out was 13D. OAK IN STORE (KIA SORENTO). After that, I was able to first place in the manufacturer’s names of most cars, and then used the downs to find the models. The theme answers:

• 19A. CHEVROLET AVEO
• 23A. HYUNDAI SONATA
• 44A. LOTUS ELISE (never heard of this one, so it is pictured at right.)
• 53A. BUICK ENCLAVE
• 56A. TOYOTA SIENNA (I fought with this for a while; I was sure that 47D. Miso soup ingredient was SOY [not UDO], and couldn’t find a car make that put the Y in the fourth slot)
• 77D. HONDA PILOT
• 88A. FORD FREESTAR (for some reason, I insisted to myself that it was FORD FORESTER, which satisfied all the downs I had found up to that point — although it obviously didn’t satisfy all the available letters)
• 91A. NISSAN XTERRA (tricky, with “XTerra” not being a real word — nice try, Boston Globe!)
• 97A. MINI COOPER
• 121A. ISUZU ASCENDER
• 127A. CHRYSLER ASPEN

A few other clues held me up for a bit. 57D. Supplements, with “out” only looked like EKES because most any clue that is ___, with “out” is going to be EKES. Since I think of eking out something as just barely getting it, the implication is that there was none of “it” to begin with, so what exactly are we supplementing here? The crossing with 67A. Disordered left me stumped, as I didn’t know that definition of PIED.

Philadelphia Inquirer: Oh, It’s You Again
by Merl Reagle
I’m fairly new to the crossword scene, but I already like Merl Reagle’s puzzles (as well as his general dry wit, evident in both the 2008 ACPT and in the movie Wordplay). This one had a very simple theme, once I discovered it. Each long answer had the string OU twice. I’d love insight into the puzzle’s title, though — wouldn’t it make more sense to either include only the letter U or the word YOU twice in each answer? Why OU?

Nonetheless, it was a fun solve, and passed the time nicely between me placing my dinner order with Top China over the phone and the order finally arriving (which, as I type this, has not yet happened… Where are you, Top China?).

And now, you can stop holding your collective breath. Dinner is long since over, the wife and I have watched two movies, and I can finally present you with the answers to the theme clues:

• 18A. Dolby, DTS or Sony option (SURROUND SOUND)
• 22A. Mental bloc? (ENCOUNTER GROUP)
• 38A. Survival-skills organization (OUTWARD BOUND)
• 49A. Legendary Los Angeles nightspot (THE TROUBADOUR)
• 66A. Words of regret (COULDA, SHOULDA, WOULDA)
• 89A. Rural relative (COUNTRY COUSIN)
• 96A. Words of rejection in a famous Seinfeld episode (NO SOUP FOR YOU!)
• 119A. The Skipper’s plan, on paper (A THREE-HOUR TOUR) — On paper? On sheet music paper, maybe. “A three-hour tour” is known as lyrics from the theme song…
• 123A. Disappear intentionally (GO UNDERGROUND) — This was the cleverest of the answers in that the first OU pair was split up. Nicely done, Mr. Reagle.

And that will be all for the night…

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