Somewhat out of boredom, and somewhat out of curiosity, I started a puzzle tonight. Cal, the stereotypical jock/bully, can't get over what a nerd I am. He walked in a few minutes ago from being on the Internet for an hour and promptly exclaimed, "You've got the border done! You're such a dork!" I remembered my tactics in dealing with kids like him from high school, and promptly ignored his cry for attention.
In my family, we may not have won any sporting events or run any marathons, but we sure could do a puzzle. We were a family full of "smart kids", not athletes. Every summer when we'd pack up for the beach, we'd be sure to include a puzzle or two to complete while we were there. We had dozens of them ... teddy bears at a tea party, seashells, exotic birds. You name it, we put it together.
My older sister Beth never really, truly got into the puzzle thing, or at least she never admitted that she did. She was always kinda the Wayne to my Kevin Arnold (although a more feminine, attractive version), and her favorite prank was to sneak into the puzzle room (our seldom-used formal dining room) and steal one piece of the puzzle.
The time that we all anxiously awaited would inevitably approach -- completing the last few pieces of the puzzle. Just as inevitably, we'd all start arguing over who had earned the honor of placing the last piece of the puzzle into its rightful position. "I did the entire boat!" I'd cry. "But I did the whole sea!" one of my younger sisters would respond.
The arguments always were in vain, however, as we'd get to the last piece, and, well, it wouldn't exist. We'd look high and low -- under the table, under the puzzle, in the cushions of the dining room chairs. Nothing. Then, using her flawless judgement of perfect comedic timing, Beth would waltz into the room (for only the second time in the puzzle period) and quickly slide the piece into place. Always. I'm not really sure why we never caught on before she was howling with laughter and we were (literally) crying in frustration about the unfairness of the whole thing. Maybe we weren't that smart, after all.
Anyway, my schedule is pretty open for the next week or two, so I thought I'd resurrect the old summer tradition and start a puzzle of my very own. Cal swears he'll have nothing to do with it. We'll see. My guess is that he'll be hooked soon enough. In the meantime, I have a boat to finish.
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7 comments:
Give me about 45 minutes and I'll come up with a clever response to this blog, as soon as I finish reading it, that is (I have to sound out the words in my head, you know, being a dumb jock and all) ...
My family always did puzzles as well...especially at Christmas. Hey, Cal won't be laughing so much when you're eighty with the memory of an elephant and he can't remember where he put his dentures every morning!
Ohmigosh--you guys are so funny! I love puzzles, too, though these days I can't take them out because tiny puzzle pieces and small children don't exactly jive. :) When I do a kid puzzle with one of the girls, I have a hard time holding back and letting her figure it out.
You missed the best part of the story.
The first time, Mom (after about 4 hours of deliberation) says to me, "I just don't understand how you knew THAT was going to be the last piece."
How did Beth know it was the last piece???!!! Too funny!
Marylu
I appreciate and respect that you all do not drink alcohol Miriam, but I think you will still like this puzzle story.
My best friend-well, let's just say he does drink. So one time many years ago he was "sleeping" on the floor and we took a photo and had it made into a jigsaw puzzle and gave it to him for Christmas.
You should have heard him howl when he was about halfway through it.
where are you??
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