It's a Puzzling Experience
My German grandparents were as tough as is possible to be. I only know of one obstacle that defeated them and that was a jigsaw puzzle. Everything was fine until they got to the sky. Try as they might, it wouldn’t come together. One day I asked how the puzzle was going?
Omi rolled her eyes and huffed, “It’s finished.”
“Really? Let me see.”
It was definitely finished. Opa had hammered the last 30 odd pieces into place. That puzzle was DONE.
I can empathize. I like to do puzzles from time to time, and my current one appears to be an easy 500 piece. Ha! It came with a problem spot that is all brown and it’s hard to tell if the pieces really fit or not, and I’ve done the edge about 19 different ways, and did I mention the stupid thing is brown? I’m about ready to get the hammer.
But did this stop me from entering a speed jigsaw puzzling competition? It did not! When I learned that my neighbor is a champion puzzler, I badgered her with all kinds of questions, then signed right up! Even better, I talked my sister, Lisa, into signing up with me for the pairs competition. As the time drew near, I thought it might be wise to take my neighbor up on her offer to lend me some practice puzzles. She told me that I would be given two hours to finish a 500-piece puzzle. With no thoughts of failure clouding my happy horizons, I sat down at the dining room table, set a timer and went to work. Two hours later the puzzle was… nowhere near finished. But that was just my first attempt. The fact that a group of monkeys would probably have done better, surely meant nothing. Attempt number two a few days later with a different puzzle, went if anything, worse. But buoyed up with wholly unfounded optimism; I mean, a noble, indomitable spirit, I picked up my sister and went merrily to Lindon, Utah to win the championship!
The contest took place at the Boardwalk puzzle factory. The warehouse had pallets stacked to the ceiling. There were also stacks of uncut puzzles. Wait…. you mean I could have just bought a picture this whole time? Never mind. The contest was about to begin! A trolley of puzzles came out with the puzzles hidden in bags. We would all be doing the same puzzle except the junior and senior division puzzles were cut into 300 pieces rather than 500.
When I signed up I proudly (read, stupidly) refused to accept my new senior status.
“I will NOT accept a lesser challenge just because I’m old!” I declared to my long-suffering husband. “I’m as good as I ever was!”
“Were you ever particularly good at puzzles?” he asked.
“That doesn’t matter!”
“In a puzzle competition?”
“I will not be squelched!”
“I think you might be squelched.”
The only other indicator that I might be in trouble, came from my friend’s husband who told me that his wife was putting together a 1,000 piece puzzle every night to prepare.
“Gosh, she looked normal to me.” I said.
“Good luck,” he said.
I remembered this conversation just before the timer went off. Brushing it off as irrelevant, I excitedly opened the bag. It looked like an easy enough landscape. I flipped over the pieces with confidence, easily keeping up with my more experienced neighbor.
Fifteen minutes passed. My neighbor had most of the sky put together, and I had managed to assemble about three pieces. A short time later my neighbor finished, patted me on the shoulder and whispered good luck.
At last the misery, I mean fun, ended. I was well and truly squelched. But I had a half hour before the pairs competition. More than enough time to recover my natural buoyancy like those old Bozo the clown punching bags.
The pairs puzzle would still be 500 pieces. Great! I thought that between Lisa and me we could at least expect to finish. Oh my, no.
“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Lisa asked.
“Because I’m your big sister, and therefore this is a good idea.”
“That’s so easy to forget somehow.”
Doggedly we puzzled on. The room was silent except for soft murmuring and the shrieking ladies. I only wish they had told me what was so funny. But they livened up our dismal performance. Better still, they didn’t complete their puzzle either, so at least we weren’t alone.
Oh well, it was an experience and once we put the puzzle away, we looked as speedy as anyone. We went home cheerfully with some new puzzles. I don’t know if Lisa will be willing to team up with me again. If she has any sense, she won’t. But my cousin’s wife says she wants to try. Why not? Next year is bound to be better. If all the other contestants have hand injuries from overstrain, I might even win.
Omi rolled her eyes and huffed, “It’s finished.”
“Really? Let me see.”
It was definitely finished. Opa had hammered the last 30 odd pieces into place. That puzzle was DONE.
I can empathize. I like to do puzzles from time to time, and my current one appears to be an easy 500 piece. Ha! It came with a problem spot that is all brown and it’s hard to tell if the pieces really fit or not, and I’ve done the edge about 19 different ways, and did I mention the stupid thing is brown? I’m about ready to get the hammer.
But did this stop me from entering a speed jigsaw puzzling competition? It did not! When I learned that my neighbor is a champion puzzler, I badgered her with all kinds of questions, then signed right up! Even better, I talked my sister, Lisa, into signing up with me for the pairs competition. As the time drew near, I thought it might be wise to take my neighbor up on her offer to lend me some practice puzzles. She told me that I would be given two hours to finish a 500-piece puzzle. With no thoughts of failure clouding my happy horizons, I sat down at the dining room table, set a timer and went to work. Two hours later the puzzle was… nowhere near finished. But that was just my first attempt. The fact that a group of monkeys would probably have done better, surely meant nothing. Attempt number two a few days later with a different puzzle, went if anything, worse. But buoyed up with wholly unfounded optimism; I mean, a noble, indomitable spirit, I picked up my sister and went merrily to Lindon, Utah to win the championship!
The contest took place at the Boardwalk puzzle factory. The warehouse had pallets stacked to the ceiling. There were also stacks of uncut puzzles. Wait…. you mean I could have just bought a picture this whole time? Never mind. The contest was about to begin! A trolley of puzzles came out with the puzzles hidden in bags. We would all be doing the same puzzle except the junior and senior division puzzles were cut into 300 pieces rather than 500.
When I signed up I proudly (read, stupidly) refused to accept my new senior status.
“I will NOT accept a lesser challenge just because I’m old!” I declared to my long-suffering husband. “I’m as good as I ever was!”
“Were you ever particularly good at puzzles?” he asked.
“That doesn’t matter!”
“In a puzzle competition?”
“I will not be squelched!”
“I think you might be squelched.”
The only other indicator that I might be in trouble, came from my friend’s husband who told me that his wife was putting together a 1,000 piece puzzle every night to prepare.
“Gosh, she looked normal to me.” I said.
“Good luck,” he said.
I remembered this conversation just before the timer went off. Brushing it off as irrelevant, I excitedly opened the bag. It looked like an easy enough landscape. I flipped over the pieces with confidence, easily keeping up with my more experienced neighbor.
Fifteen minutes passed. My neighbor had most of the sky put together, and I had managed to assemble about three pieces. A short time later my neighbor finished, patted me on the shoulder and whispered good luck.
At last the misery, I mean fun, ended. I was well and truly squelched. But I had a half hour before the pairs competition. More than enough time to recover my natural buoyancy like those old Bozo the clown punching bags.
The pairs puzzle would still be 500 pieces. Great! I thought that between Lisa and me we could at least expect to finish. Oh my, no.
“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Lisa asked.
“Because I’m your big sister, and therefore this is a good idea.”
“That’s so easy to forget somehow.”
Doggedly we puzzled on. The room was silent except for soft murmuring and the shrieking ladies. I only wish they had told me what was so funny. But they livened up our dismal performance. Better still, they didn’t complete their puzzle either, so at least we weren’t alone.
Oh well, it was an experience and once we put the puzzle away, we looked as speedy as anyone. We went home cheerfully with some new puzzles. I don’t know if Lisa will be willing to team up with me again. If she has any sense, she won’t. But my cousin’s wife says she wants to try. Why not? Next year is bound to be better. If all the other contestants have hand injuries from overstrain, I might even win.