Well, it’s that time of year again. The holidays. From mid-November through the end of the year, the celebrations are strung together like beads. In fact, they can become a bit of a blur as they zip by. Of course, Thanksgiving is the gateway holiday for Black Friday—that all-important starting line for holiday shopping, and so named because it’s the day when retailers supposedly turn a profit—from “in the red,” to being “in the black.” But in our family, the holidays are much lower key and are certainly not focused on shopping. Instead, we puzzle together. No, I mean we REALLY puzzle.

We like the size and challenge of 1000 piece puzzles, and started our first one early in December. Since we were just gearing up (getting our “puzzle eyes” on), that one may have taken us a week. We’d work in the evenings, but only occasionally. Once that puzzle was finished, we immediately began another. We started picking up speed, cutting our time in half. Pretty good.

Here’s our technique: a new puzzle is chosen from our selection (typically 5-7 waiting in the wings). We empty the pieces onto the table in the living room and begin turning them over, from cardboard side to picture side. You may, in all fairness, ask, “Who doesn’t?” Well you’re right, EVERYBODY does that, but what it signals to our family is the beginning of the chide. That’s right. If someone has to go to the bathroom, or chooses to give the doggies a treat in the kitchen, they’re chided for their apparent intention to evade the often dreaded process of puzzle turn-ature. This mocking goes on relentlessly for some time until the irresponsible party redeems him/herself by finding more edge pieces at a faster rate than expected.

Then, we get serious and really settle in. The edges form the border and we each “claim” territories of the picture to “build.” It’s common for someone to ask, “What are you building?” If two people have inadvertently chosen the same object, there’s an agreement that the one who has built more has imminent domain, and the pieces are immediately relinquished to that person—no questions asked.

As we work amid the mutterings, outbursts of singing, and sometimes serious conversation, there can be heard spontaneous shouts of “Connect!” when portions are aligned and a bridge holds the tentative pieces together. Sometimes, “Yessss!” is called out. Then we all chime in with supportive gestures by shouting out variations on the word, like “Yesssssssss!” or “Yesssaaaahh!” or maybe “Yessiree!” And for some reason, that usually encourages another jokester to quietly add “Bob,” as in “Yessiree-Bob?”

During the puzzle working, someone will typically ask the most fearful question in all of puzzletry, “Are all the pieces here? I think something’s missing.” I did mention the doggies, so we are quick to look at Tuesday, who enjoys gnarling a piece every once in a while. Although she’s never eaten one completely, we’re left with a barely recognizable, damp form to squish into place. She just likes to be part of the action—is that so wrong? No one ever suspects Abby, since she’s typically snoring on a nearby pillow. And Izzi-B could only find a piece if it bounced off her head. Consequently, Tuesday is the usual suspect.

And of course, everyone has an individual puzzle working style. Em is a shape-fitter. He examines the space and scours the table for the perfect-fitting single piece. (It takes him forever, which draws fire from fellow puzzlers on occasion.) I’m a box-matcher. Give me the box and I can locate any piece that you hand me. Of course, it’s not connected to anything and is often not very useful—but hey, it works for me. And Iris? Well, she’s the puzzle-master, master-puzzler. She goes by shape, color, texture or just plain instinct, employing every possible nuance she can think of—it’s poetry in motion and any puzzler’s dream to watch her work.

Last night we began at 10:30 pm and finished the puzzle just before 2 am. Okay. We can be a little compulsive, I admit. The standard 1000-piecer, is taking us about 1 and 1/2 days now to complete. We’d be consummate professionals, if there were such things. Tomorrow, we select the next puzzle. We’ll begin the process all over again with renewed zest and anticipation.

Aaron arrives on Sunday. He told Iris to be prepared because he’s bringing puzzles. Atta boy! Every family has traditions and rituals. This is ours.

“Buone feste! Happy Holidays!”

Title inspired by Rodgers and Hammerstein’s song from  “The King and I”—which by the way, would definitely make a good puzzle!

Posted on December 24, 2011

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