The Wellington Files

  • Waltzing Matilda

    Ever drop something in a hard-to-reach area? Sometimes you just gotta let it go. Earlier this month, an Australian woman, Matilda Campbell, hiking with her friends in Australia’s Hunter Valley, dropped her phone between boulders and got caught trying to retrieve it. Clearly, she should have stuck with waltzing. And that’s not the whole of it — she ended up hanging upside down, with only her little footsies visible to the outside, non-idiot world. Hmmm, I wonder if I’d be able to find a stick long enough to tickle her.

    She hung like that for an hour before the paramedics reached her, but then it was their lunch hour, and then it took six more hours to extract her. They had to cut away chunks of the surrounding rocks to reach her, and had to be careful not to cause her to slip deeper.

    She spent three days in the hospital with cuts all over one side of her body (the side with all the cuts), a sprained ankle, and fractured vertebrae. But she didn’t need surgery. The phone was never recovered.

    Glad you made it, MC. Looking good!

    In the puzzle today, the winner of the most interesting clue for a boring answer was at 46A: “Main ingredient of the Puerto Rican dessert piragua.” That was the clue for ICE. Looks like what we would call a sno cone. I was never a big fan of these. I did like Italian ices back in the day. Those are creamier.

    Lily TOMLIN dropped by at 50A: Hi LT! She said: “We’re all in this alone.”

    At 17D, the clue was: “Misleading cognate, like the German ‘Gift’ which actually means ‘poison.’” What on earth?? The answer was FALSE FRIEND. It’s a whole linguistic thing that’s new to me. I’ll be brief but tedious.

    A “cognate” is a set of words that descend from a common etymological “ancestor,” so to speak. E.g., night, nacht, and nuit are cognates. A “false cognate” is a set or pair of words that you would think are cognates because of similar sounds and meanings but do not derive from the same ancestor — it’s just coincidence. So our word dog and the word dog in the Mbabaram language sound alike and have the same meaning, but they do not derive from the same root — it’s a coincidence, so they are false cognates. (Mbabaram, of course, for those of you who are as dumb as doorknobs, is an extinct Australian Aboriginal language of north Queensland.)

    Now, a “false friend” is a word in one language that looks or sounds similar to a word in a different language, but differs significantly in meaning. Examples include the English word embarrassed and the Spanish embarazado, which means pregnant. Or, as in the puzzle clue, above, the English word gift and the German “gift” which means poison.

    I hope that makes sense. I’m not entirely sure I understand it, but since I don’t care it’s fine.

    Hey, meet Captain Olivia Benson, one of Taylor Swift’s three cats:

    Olivia has a new friend heading her way as Tay and Trav have decided to adopt a rescue cat. Taylor’s other cats are Benjamin Buttons and Meredith Grey.

    Taylor’s boyfriend Travis Kelce caught our attention years ago as a brilliant tight end for KC, a sure Hall of Famer once he retires. But it’s amazing how comfortable he seems doing a whole raft of commercials. Here he is with his brother Jason, who was an outstanding center for the Eagles for 13 years. It’s not very profound, but the premise is there’s a Cheerios obstacle course, and Jason runs into trouble getting stuck trying to squeeze through a giant Cheerio. We’ve all been there, amirite? High school gym class?

    Mike Schoen of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) set off a storm with this post: I went to a friend’s house and it seems that they use red washing up liquid! Surely all washing up liquid should be green? [OC Note: I think he’s talking about dish detergent.] Here are some of the 46 comments it inspired.

    Jenny Todd Taylor wrote: We bought the red as it was all they had available when we needed new. Not fond of it but will continue to use until it runs out. Mike Schoen replied:  Very wise: go back to green asap. Karen Seery: Or yellow.

    James Nolan: I’m a total barbarian and buy different colours. right now it’s red.

    Mike Schoen: OMG

    James Nolan: I know I knowww. Stone the heretic. I deserve it.

    Jake Pattison: There’s no need for soapism.

    Mike King: Ours is pink. PINK! What a time to be alive.

    Kate Keely: I buy pink to match the fish slice. [What??]

    Victoria Neatby: Have you been living under a rock?

    Here’s Victoria:

    We’ll give Dee Smith the last word: There is no one policing the washing up liquid industry, they have gone rogue.

    Seriously.

    Have to close up shop a little early tonight. Need to grab some dinner and settle in for the first game. Let’s see how Cole, Judge, and Soto do. Could be a good series.

    See you tomorrow!

  • Fairy Rings

    I learned something about American History from the puzzle today. At 1A the clue was “Workplace for a young Abraham Lincoln.” When the answer worked out to BAR, I figured it was a reference to his years as a lawyer. BUT in fact, earlier in life, Abe owned a bar with one of his friends. (On a related note, I also learned that George Washington owned the largest distillery in the country in his day, in addition to farming.)

    Customer: OK, what do we owe you for two beers and a corned beef on rye?
    Bar Owner: That’ll be one score, three eighty.
    Customer: C’mon Linc! Just tell me in plain English!!

    Among his countless insane rants, Trump has been insisting that Harris wants to ban red meat and do away with cows. It prompted Dana Milbank to write in WaPo: “The steaks could not be higher in this election.”

    In the awwwwww dept today, the clue at 4D was “Baby that’s up all night,” and the answer was OWLET. But I crashed on the puzzle, not knowing the singer SZA or that the letter after Epsilon is Zeta. D’oh!

    Actress Salma was easy to get though: Hiya HAYEK! Dammit! — did Phil wake you up for this shot, Sal?? I thought he stopped sneaking into bedrooms since he’s been on probation. We’re so sorry. Just go back to sleep, we’ll catch up later, girl.

    Commenter Janet M had this on Sza: She is a Jersey Girl and graduated from the high school where I taught before retirement, Columbia High School in Maplewood. She has returned several times to talk to the kids and also to perform, showing her generous spirit and understanding the importance of giving back to community. We all love her!

    Hey, I see she was named Billboard’s Woman of the Year in ’23. Sweet!

    Darren Noonan of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) asks: Can anyone tell me definitively whether these little bad boys are safely edible? UK based Southeast. I’m not a massive fan of mushers but I do rather like foraging and I’m a particular fan of free food. They’re definitely free, because they’re in my back garden.

    Justin McAree wrote: All mushrooms are edible. Some are only edible once.

    Several others noted it was a “fairy ring,” i.e., a naturally occurring circular pattern of mushrooms that can be found in forests and grasslands.  They are caused when the spawn of a mushroom falls in a favorable spot and sends out a network of underground threads. These grow in a circle, and mushrooms grow from the underground mat.  An old folk tale says fairies danced in circles to form them, but the fairies themselves have ridiculed this notion.

    Marianne Morant cautioned: Do not interfere with a fairy ring, the fae are not to be messed with.

    [Fae is a term for fairy.]

    Thanks for dropping in. See you next time!

  • Fernando’s Hideaway

    Here’s our little pumpkin at the pumpkin patch today: Isaac, or Izzy, if you prefer, Caity’s youngest at 4.

    Have I played this Chris Rock snippet for you before? It’s one of my favorites and it’s a good intro to The Poetry Foundation’s poem of the day today, by Lucille Clifton called “homage to my hips.”

    these hips are big hips
    they need space to
    move around in.
    they don’t fit into little
    petty places. these hips
    are free hips.
    they don’t like to be held back.
    these hips have never been enslaved,
    they go where they want to go
    they do what they want to do.
    these hips are mighty hips.
    these hips are magic hips.
    i have known them
    to put a spell on a man and
    spin him like a top!

    Headline from The Onion: Both Campaigns Release Ads Showcasing Trump’s Most Racist Comments

    Baseball fans old enough in 1981 remember Fernando Valenzuela, the joyful Mexican left-handed pitcher for the Dodgers who took us all for a hell of a ride that season. He won all of his first eight starts, five via shutouts. Seven were complete games and his ERA for them was 0.50. As luck would have it (bad), a players’ strike shut the season down for two months. He finished 13-7, with a 2.48 ERA, and copped both the Rookie of the Year and Cy Young awards, the only time in MLB history they have been won by the same player in one year.

    He was discovered by accident when a Dodger scout took a trip down to Mexico to check out a shortstop. Nando was pitching for the opposing team and struck out 12 batters. His signature pitch was the screwball. Hall of Famer Carl Hubbell had one the game’s greatest screwballs and he said of Valenzuela’s that it was the best he had seen “since mine.”

    He had several stellar seasons and pitched a no-hitter against the Cardinals on June 29, 1990, a gleam in his by-then declining career. The Dodgers retired his number (34) last year. Dodger fans who fell in love with him during that blazing start in 1981 never fell out of love. He returned to the Dodgers as an analyst for their Spanish-language radio broadcasts starting in 2003. He held that position until he took a one-month leave this year for health reasons and was planning to return next year. He was only 63.

    His wife Linda survives him, along with four children and seven grandchildren. Here’s the signed card of his from my collection.

    Rest in peace, Fernando.

    A small literary flap arose today regarding 49A in the NYTXW. The clue was “Genre for James Baldwin’s ‘Giovanni’s Room,’ familiarly,” and the answer was GAY LIT. Things started heating up when Commenter CM wrote: “Giovanni’s Room as GAY LIT?? So reductive. I don’t think Baldwin would approve!”

    If you’re like me, you don’t know what reductive means, so I looked it up. It means “tending to present a subject in a simplified form.”

    Anyway, it raised Anony Mouse’s hackles. He or she wrote: Describing Giovanni’s Room as gay lit is reductive? Huh? That’s absurd. It is THE ne plus ultra of gay lit. Hell, it’s so prominent in that world that Philadelphia’s oldest Gay bookstore is called Giovanni’s Room. For the last 51 years. Sheesh.

    To which we add: Hrrrrrrrumph!

    Let’s end on a dull note. Steven Cox of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) writes: I felt a frisson of excitement this afternoon at ‘bagging’ my highest numbered UK motorway so far. I believe there is only the M898 numbered higher than this – can anyone confirm? (Incidentally, I was the passenger, my wife was driving).

    David Edwards replied: Not quite right… there’s this little abomination up by Scunthorpe.

    Scott Wilson: Alphabetically or Numerically? Where would the M9 sit?

    Josh Sinnott: I think 9 is smaller than 876, might be wrong though

    Scott Wilson again: not as a character string in a computer

    See you tomorrow, Chatterheads.

  • Elmer’s Glue

    It’s Monday, but the puzzle threw me right at the start. 1D: “Oblong yellowish fruit.” Even if I weren’t queasy about describing a banana as oblong, why would you add the “ish” to yellow? But it couldn’t be banana because the answer only had five letters.

    Papaya came to mind. It looks right:

    But that’s not five letters either. Even its alternate name: pawpaw is too many letters. Answer: Papaw, an alternate spelling for pawpaw. Ouch.

    But how can you be mad at a puzzle that gives you Disney’s sexiest character at 11D: ARIEL, the little mermaid. Here she is as most of us remember her.

    And here she is, about ten years older, sporting her “Ariel” dress available from Pacsun for $57.60. Hope you’re still keeping in touch with Dad and your sisters, babe.

    The theme today was kids’ art work. The long answers were PAPER PLATE, MACARONI NOODLES, PIPE CLEANER, and COTTON BALLS, and the clue for the revealer was “What a kid might use to hold them all together,” ELMER’S GLUE. This was the closest I could come for a photo.

    At 32A the clue was “Family member who usually goes by one name” and the answer was PET.  Rex was troubled by this: “Does anyone in a family go by more than one name? What strangely formal family is this where they’re all calling each other by their full names?”

    In the ten-year span 1947-1956, the Yankees played the Dodgers (then the Brooklyn Dodgers) in the World Series six times, winning five of them and losing only in 1955. They met five other times in the WS: ’41, ’63, ’77, ’78, and ’81, with LA winning in ’63 and ’81, and the Yankees winning the other three.

    Let’s linger on the 1963 matchup. I went to the Stadium early for the first game with my friend David Katzman and we waited on line for bleacher seats. It worked — we got in! But it was a dismal game for the Yanks, with Sandy Koufax setting the then-WS record of 15 strikeouts in a complete game 5-2 win, outpitching Whitey Ford.

    Here’s some cool trivia. The only Yankee regular not to strike out was Clete Boyer. Bobby Richardson struck out three times. It was the only time he struck out three times in his entire 1448-game career. The big blow was Johnny Roseboro’s 3-run home run in the second inning. The other two LA runs were driven in by Moose Skowron. It was Moose’s only year in LA. He had been my favorite Yankee before ’63, so I felt a little betrayed.

    How effective was the Dodger pitching in the ’63 WS? Well, in all four games, the Yankees could score no runs through the first six innings. Zippo. Nada. And in all four games combined they scored a total of only four runs. Gasp.

    Here’s the Moose, explaining why his batting average shot way up in 1962. “I use five bats!”

    I’m a little tired tonight. Here’s a short poem by Ted Kooser from Winter Morning Walks. Then I’m going to cash in my chips.

    As if to spare the birds at the feeder
    any more competition than they already have,
    a snowflake drops right past the perches
    crowded with finches, nuthatches, sparrows,
    and without even thinking to open its wings
    settles quietly onto the ground.

    See you next time!

  • Handsome Sailor

    In tomorrow’s Met Diary, Mary Herr writes,

    Dear Diary:

    A few years ago I was sitting in a crowded subway car one morning when an older woman got on holding a large bunch of roses. She gestured to people on the train to see if they would buy one of the flowers. After being rejected by everyone, she stood wondering what to do.

    A young man approached her. He was dressed well, as if on his way to work. He asked how much for the whole bunch.

    Fifty dollars, the woman said.

    He gave her $50 and proceeded to hand out roses to all of the women on the car.

    A special note to all of Owl Chatter’s Tanglewood friends. Don’t miss today’s feature in the NYT on how to spend 36 hours in the Berkshires. The pizza spot in Lenox sounds good, including its Bresaola with dried figs and stracciatella; and the brewhouse in Pittsfield offers drafts with names like Handsome Sailor, Shred the Cello, the Fifth Daughter, Fellini, and Mirror of Simple Souls. There is much to do in Great Barrington, says the Times, including a good rock, folk, etc., music venue in nearby South Egremont.

    Here’s a shot Phil submitted from the Hoosic River and the Ashuwillticook Rail Trail in Adams.

    Not surprisingly, the NYT failed to mention Teo’s, a dump Linda and I visited two summers ago. It’s in the middle of nowhere in Pittsfield. They feature small-sized hot dogs for about $1.50 each, so you order, like, four or five with traditional toppings like mustard, onion, or relish. Cheap beer is available too, which helps the dogs go down, if not stay down. It’s a great local scene and we can’t wait to get back.

    Burp!

    Headline in The Onion: Mayor Explains Why He Changed City Named After Slave-Owning Founder To Salami Town

    The NYTXW defeated me today. I won’t bore you with the details of my miscues. Instead, I’ll bore you with 2 unusual four-letter answers: Did you know the capital of Greenland is NUUK? I didn’t either. And a dialect in the Black community is AAVE. It stands for African-American Vernacular English. Go know.

    Here’s Nuuk at niight (not to be confused with Nick at Night).

    At 20A, “View of the moon?” was a cute clue for BUTT.

    A shoal upon which many foundered was the crossing of ADA TWIST with RICK STEVES. I know. Seriously, right? Ada is “Titular scientist in a 2016 children’s book by Andrea Beaty.” (WTF!) And Rick is “‘Travel as a Political Act’ author, 2009.” Are you kidding me?

    At 25D, “They may open doors for you” had to be MAGIC WORDS, no? But it turned out to be BUS DRIVERS. Here’s one!

    In yesterday’s puzzle there was a controversy over 22A. The clue was “Playful snarl” and the answer was ROWR. Many would have preferred RAWR.

    Here’s Rex on it: The [Playful snarl] is RAWR. We’ve established this. There is ample crossword precedent for RAWR (four NYTXW appearances). Sadly, however, there is also precedent for ROWR, though not as ample (just two appearances before today). I hate that the crossword thinks you can go either way on this, when the correct spelling seems to me quite clear: RAWR is the playful snarl, ROWR is a typo. The more you bend the spelling, the more obviously you are in “playful” territory, so RAWR > ROWR by a country mile, case closed, stop using ROWR, it’s ****ing awful.

    Commenter Jammon noted: RAWR, ROWR…who gives a (stool sample.) Neither one is a word, regardless of how often the NYT uses them. The best crossword puzzle should NEVER just make up words, yet the NYT does it almost daily.

    Gary chimed in: You do know that EVERY word is just made up, right?

    Anony Mouse said: Rowr and rawr are different. Rowr is sexy. Rawr is cute. This is known. [OC: not by me, it isn’t.]

    DrSparks proposed a better clue: “Seat with 17 heads ahead of you?”–ROWR. (Get it? Row R.)

    At 48D yesterday “Fork-tailed bird” was TERN. It led egs to share this:

    When Mrs. Egs and I were contemplating divorce, we alternated picking household items that we would take. She had just chosen our dog and then said “I’ll also take the fork-tailed bird.” I countered, “No, it’s my TERN.”

    You can see the forked tail in this shot. (Thanks Philly!)

    This clue was a complete mystery to me at 33A. “Half of LV.” See if you can get it (three letters). I’ll tell you the answer later.

    At 3D, the clue was “Stay [blank]” and the answer was WOKE.

    Commenter jazzmanchgo notes the following, re: what’s almost certainly the first recorded version of the term “stay woke” in its original sense of “stay alert, keep your eyes open.”

    In 1938, folk singer Huddie “Leadbelly” Ledbetter recorded the song “Scottsboro Boys” about the notorious Scottsboro Boys trial, which had taken place seven years earlier. In it he warns “all good Colored people” to watch their backs and be vigilant: “I advise everybody, be a little careful when they go along through there. Best stay woke, keep their eyes open.” (Good advice then, and just as timely now.)

    It’s unclear whether Ledbetter actually coined the phrase, but I [the commenter] know of no documented instances of its being used before this.

    Here he is:

    [From up above: Half of LV is LAS (think Las Vegas). D’oh!]

    David Dibb of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) asks the following, which is dangerously close to being interesting:

    “Driving down a country lane the other day on a leisurely drive back from my son’s football. Noticed some ladies on horses riding along the road. As I slowed to pass I noticed one of the riders pull out her mobile phone and begin using it. Did I witness an offence or is it different when on an animal on the road as opposed to a vehicle?”

    Stephen Carroll observed: It won’t have been an android phone, as horses prefer Apples.

    Graham Oates posted: I think it’s illegal to be drunk in charge of a horse, but it’s okay if you’re sober and the horse is drunk, which seems a bit unfair.

    The majority view was it’s unwise but not illegal (in Britain) to use a mobile phone while riding a horse. But the rural road safety advice issued by the British Horse Society states that it is illegal to use a phone while riding.

    Owl Chatter’s feelings on the matter: Horsefeathers!

    In a related story, this is Nanako Fujita, Japan’s leading female jockey. She was charged with using her cellphone in a restricted area of a racecourse, and her license was suspended. As a consequence, she has retired from the sport, at age 27. Nanako! We hardly knew ye. Give us a call — oops, sorry!

    See you tomorrow!

  • Ahoy!

    In the puzzle today, at 32A the clue was “Digital art?” and the answer was PAINT BY NUMBERS. Son Volt shared this dark tune with us:

    There are too many “new” statistics in baseball (for me). I guess it’s good to know the speed of a pitch, but do I need the speed of the ball coming off of the bat too? And what’s OPS? I just looked it up — it’s on-base percentage plus slugging percentage. But I never really knew what slugging percentage is. Turns out it’s total bases earned by hits divided by at-bats. So it’s [singles + (doubles x 2) + (triples x 3) + (homers x 4)] divided by at-bats. I actually did not fully get “on base percentage” either, it turns out. That’s the number of times the batter reaches base via hits, walks and hit-by-pitches, divided by at-bats. (Sacrifice bunts are ignored entirely for this: like they didn’t happen.) If this is getting too technical for you, it’s too technical for me too, and this is rudimentary stuff. But even knowing (as I now do) what OPS means, I don’t know what a good or bad one is, so I just stare at it with big blinking Homer Simpson eyes.

    Cleveland pulled out a miracle win last night against the Yanks. Down by 2 with two outs in the ninth and two strikes on Lane Thomas, the Guardians (yeah — used to be the Indians) woke up. Lainie (Thomas) doubled and Jhonkensy Noel tied the game with a pinch-hit homer. Jhonkensy’s really his first name: Caity’s cat did not just walk across the keyboard. His nickname is Harriet. [No it’s not.] The Yanks were “fried” in the tenth: i.e., David Fry homered.

    What a treat! Today’s poem, from The Writer’s Almanac, is by the late Jim Harrison, Ted Kooser’s friend, to whom Kooz sent his Winter Morning Walks poems. This one of Harrison’s is called “The Bear.”

    When my propane ran out
    when I was gone and the food
    thawed in the freezer I grieved
    over the five pounds of melted squid,
    but then a big gaunt bear arrived
    and feasted on the garbage, a few tentacles
    left in the grass, purplish white worms.
    O bear, now that you’ve tasted the ocean
    I hope your dreamlife contains the whales
    I’ve seen, that one in the Humboldt current
    basking on the surface who seemed to watch
    the seabirds wheeling around her head.

    In yesterday’s puzzle at 27D the clue was “Consonants articulated with the tongue against the upper teeth,” and the answer, of course, was DENTALS. It sent Rex off into a paroxysm of delight: — “Technical linguistics terminology! I don’t mind it! Has FRICATIVE ever been in the grid? No!? And not FRICATIVES either? What’s the hold-up!?”

    Did you know that FLORENCE was the first city in Europe with paved streets? It was way back in 1339, according 12D yesterday. And how about this tidbit at 5D?:  What Alexander Graham Bell suggested as the standard telephone-answering greeting. It was AHOY. It (mostly) didn’t catch on. 

    OMG, this is so funny. It was posted in the Dull Men’s Club (UK) by Billie Rodgers: I took my gf into the Liverpool branch of John Lewis and she totally enjoyed it. They have a coffee shop there, so I treated her to a latte’,. The young assistant asked me for my name and I thought that rather odd until I realised why. I gave my name as Spartacus and approx 5 minutes later the assistant shouts out “Spartacus!” I stood up and shouted out “I am Spartacus,” and then another 2 people did too.

    Simon Moon posted the following post with the photo in the DMC (UK):

    Today’s the day. Sort out the Allen key drawer.

    John Stockton chimed in: The one on the far left that comprises two parts that slot together- I have one of those.

    Can’t top that! See you tomorrow!

  • Love Conkers All

    Beautiful writing can soften the blow of even the most distressing of topics. This is from Frank Bruni’s “For the love of sentences” feature:

    In The Toronto Star, Janice Kennedy charted the wages of aging: “There’s the physical decline, unimaginable back in younger days. There’s the consignment to irrelevance, also inconceivable once. And of course there’s that great departure lounge where we’ve ended up, knowing our flight won’t be canceled but hoping for a delay.”

    And, OMG, this one is delicious:

    David Rothkopf, the host of the podcast Deep State Radio, beheld Trump’s descent this week from “being periodically adrift” to something stranger and more savage: “He’s one cloudless night away from baying at the moon.”

    Last, Chuck Culpepper in WAPO reflected on the free-for-all for dominance among college football teams this year: “It’s a season loaded with faith, hope and parity.”

    I sent some material in today too — hope it’s accepted. It’s by Ted Nguyen in today’s NYT sports section:

    “The Cleveland Browns sold their souls for a franchise quarterback but didn’t even get the fleeting moment of happiness that typically comes with these pacts.”

    Playwright Arthur Miller was born on this date in NYC in 1915. His first success was All My Sons (not to be confused with My Three Sons starring Fred MacMurray), and he used the money from it to buy land in Connecticut upon which he built a cabin by hand. He conceived the ideas for Death of a Salesman while working, but vowed not to start writing until the cabin was up. When it was, he started writing one morning and finished the first act by the time he went to sleep in the middle of the night. In bed, he found that his cheeks were wet with tears, and his throat was sore from speaking and shouting the lines of dialogue as he wrote. Miller wrote: “For a salesman, there is no rock bottom to the life. He don’t put a bolt to a nut, he don’t tell you the law or give you medicine. He’s a man way out there in the blue, riding on a smile and a shoeshine.”

    Here’s a photo of Willy Loman, sans smile. (In the Chinese production, it’s Willy Lo Mein.)

    This poem by Nikki Giovanni from The Poetry Foundation yesterday is called “Mothers.”

    the last time i was home
    to see my mother we kissed
    exchanged pleasantries
    and unpleasantries pulled a warm   
    comforting silence around
    us and read separate books

    i remember the first time
    i consciously saw her
    we were living in a three room   
    apartment on burns avenue

    mommy always sat in the dark
    i don’t know how i knew that but she did

    that night i stumbled into the kitchen
    maybe because i’ve always been
    a night person or perhaps because i had wet
    the bed
    she was sitting on a chair
    the room was bathed in moonlight diffused through   
    those thousands of panes landlords who rented
    to people with children were prone to put in windows   
    she may have been smoking but maybe not
    her hair was three-quarters her height
    which made me a strong believer in the samson myth   
    and very black

    i’m sure i just hung there by the door
    i remember thinking: what a beautiful lady

    she was very deliberately waiting
    perhaps for my father to come home   
    from his night job or maybe for a dream
    that had promised to come by   
    “come here” she said “i’ll teach you   
    a poem: i see the moon
                   the moon sees me
                   god bless the moon
                   and god bless me    ”   
    i taught it to my son
    who recited it for her
    just to say we must learn   
    to bear the pleasures
    as we have borne the pains

    Yesterday’s discussion of “ocean eyes” generated unusual interest and requests for an additional example. Amazingly, Phil managed to come up with this one without the police getting involved. Thanks, Philly. Remember, they don’t have to be blue, but it doesn’t hurt.

    If you’ve ever been hit by a bad earworm, Andy Pullin of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) offers this remedy: I find humming the “Pink Panther” theme removes any earworm, never fails. (It may replace it with the Pink Panther theme though).

    This man is David Jakins. He’s 82 and won this year’s World Conkers Championship in Southwick, England, but not without a bit of controversy.

    If those things that are hanging from strings look like chestnuts, that’s because they are chestnuts, although they are called conkers here. A hole is punched through and a string attached. Each player gets one and uses it to try to destroy the opponent’s by whipping his against it. The last to emerge with a viable conker is the champ. Smithwick boasts only 160 residents, but 256 contestants showed up to compete this year, and 2,500 spectators spectated.

    Jakins’ victory was his first after many decades of competing but the runner-up, Alastair Johnson-Ferguson, cried foul and claimed Jakins used a steel conker. The serious charge was leveled on the basis of his conker disintegrating in one hit, which “just doesn’t happen.” Now get this — a steel conker was in fact found in Jakins’ pocket! He claimed he only carried it around for humorous effect. (It does strike us as hysterical.) An investigation has been launched.

    Kelci Banschbach won the women’s competition, the first American to do so, though we do not see why this “sport” requires a division of the sexes.

    If two folks meet at the games, fall in love, and marry, no doubt the papers will announce: Love Conkers All.

    We’ll leave you tonight with this nice image Phil sent in of two women conking out.

    See you tomorrow Chatterheads!

  • Ocean Eyes

    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.

  • Michigan Ho!

    Arrived safely in MI, but only to watch the Tigers fall to Cleveland. Oh, well.

    Here’s the TP Sam and Sarah use.

    It’s made of bamboo and is very planet-friendly.

    How are you on the Periodic Table of the Elements? Well, the puzzle today asked us how many elements include the letter J? There were four letters in the answer. Times up — NONE! A neat way to clue a boring word and a neat trivia fact to know.

    And then commenter smalltowndoc posted:

    “On a visit to Munich, 30 years ago, I decided to visit the Deutsches Museum, a renowned science and tech museum. There was a display of the periodic table of the chemical elements with their symbols. I noticed where iodine should have been (under Br, for bromine) there was a J. Well that can’t be right, said I to myself. Turns out, in German, iodine is jod, hence the J. The memories that can be triggered by the NYTXW!”

    Oh, hi Saoirse! Glad you could pop in — we conjured you up today after enjoying your incredible performance in The Outrun recently. We’ll be pulling for you on Oscar night!

    We were so impressed with her that we spent several hours on our trip trying to learn how she spells her name. Let’s see if we can come up with another photo too — she’s hauntingly beautiful. We all rightfully associate Saoirse with Ireland, but she was born in the Bronx! Her Irish folks immigrated here back then, but returned to Ireland when Saoirse was three and she was raised there. Good job mom and dad! Saoirse is 30 and got married just this April to Scottish actor Jack Lowden, whom you may have enjoyed in Slow Horses.

    If SR represents the finest actresses of our day, yesterday’s puzzle brought us back to an earlier era with Anna MAGNANI, clued as the first Italian to win an Oscar. In 1950 Life called her “one of the more impressive actresses since Garbo.” She won the Oscar for her role in “The Rose Tattoo,” which Tennessee Williams wrote for her specifically to star in.

    Magnani was married for a time and had lovers, with one of whom she had her only child, her son Luca, who contracted polio when he was 18 months old. She devoted herself to his care. In 1945, she fell in love with director Roberto Rossellini. “I thought at last I had found the ideal man. He had lost a son of his own and I felt we understood each other. Above all, we had the same artistic conceptions.” Rossellini could be violent, volatile and possessive, however, and they would argue about films or out of jealousy. In fits of rage they threw crockery at each other. The two separated when Rossellini fell in love with and married Ingrid Bergman. D’oh!

    Here are the Kinks performing “Muswell Hillbilly.” They were the musical guests in today’s grid. Hadn’t thought of them in years.

    Favorite clue/answer from yesterday’s puzzle: 35A “Is it just me. . .?” Answer: AM I NUTS?

    New joke from Jersey Dan: 95-year-old man goes to a lawyer. Says he wants to divorce his 92-year-old wife. The lawyer asks him, “Why now?” The man says: “Enough is enough.”

    Bet you didn’t know there were orange trees in Michigan.

    See you next time!

  • Linda’s Pajamas

    We’re staying at an inn in Shadyside (Pittsburgh). It’s located on Negley Street. Why it’s called The Inn on Negley Street is a complete mystery.

    It’s the quietest place we’ve ever stayed, and it’s beautiful. Highly recommended. The owls have their own room!

    Dinner last night at the Carson Street Deli was great. They even recommended a terrific local ale for me. Perhaps the best corned beef Reuben we’ve ever had. Watched a few innings of the Mets game there too.

    On that topic, Lindor’s winning slam was Jacksonian (Reggie), except for being in the playoffs and not the World Series. Certainly historic. Our Owl Chatter (Mets) caps are off to you. And our hearts go out to our Phillies fan friends, who deserved better after a great season. That’s baseball.

    I don’t often discuss my wife’s sleepwear here (or anywhere), but she has these dark pajamas with big white flowers all over them. Top and bottom. And as we drove back from the deli last night, there was this cool-looking Black guy dressed in a dark hoodie with matching pants, all with puffy white clouds all over them. A great look for the street. I rolled down the window and caught his eye. “Great outfit,” I said, and Linda gave him a thumbs up. He smiled. “Appreciate it,” he said.

    It later occurred to us how similar to Linda’s pajamas it was. He was wearing your pajamas!, I told her.

    Spent the morning at Randyland, a wild outdoor art exhibit in a neat, historic P’burgh neighborhood. Conceived and created by Randy Gilpin, a self-described “retarded” kid, who cared about the right things, had friends, and was happy.

    Excellent sourdough pizza for lunch, if a bit pricey ($34), and a great seafood dinner, each in a different neat neighborhood. In between, Saoirse Ronan wowed us in “The Outrun.” Very compelling. Photo of SR next time.

    On to Michigan tomorrow!