Rats! I was hoping for some chatter today from Rex about Lollapuzzoola. He was supposed to be there and I thought I just didn’t see him since it was so big. But it turns out he missed it due to some house-related emergency. He said he heard it was a “rousing success,” which is nice. I checked the results again and it turns out I was bumped down to #100 out of 170, from #97. D’oh! At least I finished ahead of someone named Puzzle McPuzzleface who came it at #163.
Rex said he was able to enjoy two days in the city with his wife and daughter before he had to rush home. His review of the city was that it smells of weed and garbage but is “highly” worth a visit. If you are wondering what part of his head looks like, here’s a shot he posted.
For our Dirty Old Man Dept., he also posted a shot of “a bra my wife thought looked good. I just stared at her like ‘who even are you right now?’ (though tbh I kinda agree with her).” He went on to say “Doing even the dumbest stuff with my wife and daughter is just a blast.” Awwwww.
I managed to complete today’s puzzle using the down clues only, although I accidentally clicked on a couple of acrosses, so I can’t take full credit. I’m going to try to remember to do that on Monday from now on. I liked it. Hey, after my piece on Darryl Strawberry yesterday, the answer at 1D today was STRAW, his nickname. The clue was “Drink sucker upper.” And EDDIE MURPHY was in it, and HEDDA Gabler — there’s an odd couple.
Kerfuffle was a good clue for HOOHA. And the answer for “Stinky” was MALODOROUS, the charge Rex leveled at the city (I agree, esp as to the weed). The menu included a stein of STOUT (“Dark beer variety”) and LOX (“Fishy bagel topper”), with a CURRANT SCONE for dessert (“Fruity breakfast biscuit”). Yum (burp!).
As illustrated here, it goes well with onions, capers, lemon, and a schmear. Can we have a couple more capers over here? Waiter!
Merriam-Webster’s word of the day today is frisson. I had vaguely heard of it, but am happy to learn it means “a brief moment of emotional excitement.” The blah example they used was: He felt a frisson of delight as he stepped through the door to the walled garden.
The novelist Robert Stone was born on this date in 1937 in Brooklyn. He died at the age of 77 in Key West. He was a finalist for the National Book Award five times and did win it for Dog Soldiers in 1975. He was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize twice. He was one of Ken Kesey’s “merry pranksters” in the Hippie era, if you want to call it that.
I haven’t read any of his novels but I’m going to go out on a blimp (is that the expression? — it should be), and infer that he’s pretty good based on the beginning of his first novel A Hall of Mirrors (1967) that today’s Writer’s Almanac shared with us:
“The day before, Rheinhardt had bought a pint of whiskey in Opelika and saved it all afternoon while the bus coursed down through red clay and pine hills to the Gulf. Then, after sundown, he had opened the bottle and shared it with the boy who sold bibles, the blond gangling country boy in the next seat. Most of the night, as the black cypress shot by outside, Rheinhardt had listened to the boy talk about money — commissions and good territories and profits — the boy had gone on for hours with an awed and innocent greed. Rheinhardt had sat silently, passing the bottle and listening.”
Stone never completed an academic degree, but taught in writing programs at various universities. He held a lectureship at Johns Hopkins in1993 before moving to Yale, and he taught writing in 2006 at Beloit, which is Lebanon, right? In 2010, he held an endowed chair in the English department at Texas State University which calls itself “the most beautiful university in Texas.” Here’s Sewell Park, four acres of land along a river on campus. I don’t know, fellas, I think I need more convincing on the “most beautiful” claim.
The soccer world is all abuzz about the kiss “planted” (says the NYT) on the lips of Spanish forward Jennifer Hermoso by the president of Spain’s soccer federation, Luis Rubiales, during the medals ceremony. Here’s a shot of Hermoso, followed by the photo our photographer Phil got of the actual kiss. It does seem a little intense.
Hermoso said she “didn’t like it,” and it spurred an outcry, including calls for Rubiales to resign. Trump took a break from inventing ludicrous defenses to say Rubiales “should be hung up by his balls.” [No he didn’t.] But Hermoso released a statement seeking to put out the fires. “It was a completely spontaneous mutual [!] gesture due to the immense joy of winning a World Cup,” she posted. “The president and I have a great relationship; his behavior towards all of us has been exemplary, and it was a natural expression of affection and gratitude. There’s no need to over-analyze a gesture of friendship and gratitude; we’ve won a World Cup, and we won’t stray from what’s important.”
OK, Champ — but let us know if you change your mind and want us to rough him up a little. We can send a few enforcer owls over to “reason” with him.
One of the best vacations we had when the kids were little was a trip out to the Grand Canyon, Bryce, and Zion National Parks. We flew in and out of Las Vegas. Anyway, because of that trip, I was able to answer the clue at 12D today which was “National park with the notorious Angels Landing hike,” because we did that hike in ZION National Park. Well, not all of us did — we were worried that Sam might be too young for it — there was a sheer drop-off on both sides of a relatively narrow ridge. Hence the “notorious” in the clue. So Sam stayed back just for that part near the end.
For one or two nights on that trip, our room was a big space on top of a convenience store attached to a gas station. It probably had a “minus three star” rating, but the kids loved it. (“It pays to buy the best!” — Quick quiz — who said that and when?) I remember buying the kids candy in the store — it was convenient! It was like walking down to the living room in your house and there was a whole store there.
Those are good memories.
Feeling dizzy at all? Shouldn’t have had that stout. See you tomorrow, unless I slip.
The Wellington Files 