Joe Benigno, long-suffering Jets fan, on last night’s loss, auguring yet another disastrous season: “Thank God for drugs.”
Driving through Ohio towards that right turn up into Michigan, the question arose: Does a resident of Vermilion, OH, refer to himself as “one in Vermilion?” Or as a Vermilionaire?
In the puzzle today, at 4D, the clue was “Pet tracking device,” and the answer was ID CHIP. Egs noted: Our dog is so self-centered that we got him an ego chip rather than an ID CHIP.
Bumper sticker sighted on a Honda Odyssey: My Other Car Is An Iliad.
OC friend Pennsylvania (nee Delaware) Nancy, sent me an XW puzzle appearing in today’s WSJ constructed by Seth, the son of her friends Wendy and Simon. He’s had some in various publications previously (including the NYT), and he’s good, IMWO. (W = worthless)
This puzzle was on the easy side (it’s Tuesday), but was pretty classy. How classy? Well the theme was revealed at 54A to be Handel’s WATER MUSIC, and the theme answers were, appropriately, OL’ MAN RIVER, UNDER THE SEA, BLUE BAYOU, and Billie Eilish’s OCEAN EYES.
I’ve been watchin’ you for some time
Can’t stop starin’ at those ocean eyes
According to the Urban Dictionary, a person with ocean eyes is a person you cannot help falling in love with. They don’t have to be blue. They are clear and beautiful, and deep like the ocean. They are eyes you can fall into.
This poem by Mary Oliver is called “The Poetry Teacher.” It appeared in The Writer’s Almanac last Friday.
The university gave me a new, elegant
classroom to teach in. Only one thing,
they said. You can’t bring your dog.
It’s in my contract, I said. (I had
made sure of that.)
We bargained and I moved to an old
classroom in an old building. Propped
the door open. Kept a bowl of water
in the room. I could hear Ben among
other voices barking, howling in the
distance. Then they would all arrive —
Ben, his pals, maybe an unknown dog
or two, all of them thirsty and happy.
They drank, they flung themselves down
among the students. The students loved
it. They all wrote thirsty, happy poems.
Crack OC photographer Phil called us last night, but between his slurring and the crowd noise we could barely make out what he was saying. It turns out Taylor, Travis, and he were at the Yankee-Guardian game last night. Neat! The Bombers bombed, but in a good way. They won 5-2.
The puzzle today wanted us to remember what “Wednesday’s child” is full of. Sadly, it turns out to be WOE.
Here’s Rex stumbling all around it:
As a Wednesday child myself, I always resented this particular “nursery rhyme”; I can never remember exactly how it goes. I can start it (“Monday’s child is full of grace”) but then I lose the thread on Tuesday and end up breaking into Madonna’s “Vogue” (“Tuesday’s child … gave good face?”). Oh no, it looks like it’s actually Tuesday’s child who is “full of grace,” and Monday’s child is actually “fair of face” (so the “Vogue” thing, not far off, actually). Thursday’s child has far to go. Friday’s child likes pork & beans, Saturday’s child makes horrid scenes, and Sunday’s child goes “wee wee wee” all the way home … something like that.
Here’s the actual verse with no pork and beans, darnit:
“Monday’s child is fair of face, / Tuesday’s child is full of grace, / Wednesday’s child is full of woe, / Thursday’s child has far to go, / Friday’s child is loving and giving, / Saturday’s child works hard for a living, / But a child that is born on the Sabbath day / Is blithe and bonny, good and gay.”
Made it back to Jersey! See you tomorrow.
The Wellington Files 