Every day, after scrolling down the Times to see what’s going on, I head for the puzzles, my hideyhole from the constant, surreal cacophony out there.
First, there’s the mini-crossword, then the large crossword and then the puzzle that’s become my favorite, partially because it’s most engrossing, mostly because it wastes more of my time. Spelling Bee, that’s the one.
Every day Spelling Bee presents me with seven letters in a form they tell me is a beehive. Okay. The letter in the middle is highlighted in yellow and must be used in every word. (I guess that letter is the Queen Bee). The minimum is four letters. There is no maximum and all the letters can be used more than once in each word.
I’m given one point for four-lettered words and seventeen points for using all the words in the puzzle.
The puzzle has a maestro (editor) and an algorithm presumably tied to a complete dictionary. My word can be rejected and when it is, it does a little shimmy, informs me “Not in the word list,” and disappears from the screen. “Not in the word list” can be a bit crotchety. Certain words are always rejected: names, real (Robert) or fictional (Frodo), and place names, real (Caracas) or fictional (Hobbiton). The puzzle rejects brand names, too. I was staring at “Lego” and “Eggo” the other day but didn’t even attempt them. That message and shimmy are irritating, sort of like being lightly smacked across the face.
When I was working on yesterday’s puzzle, I got bogged (good word, bogged) down, a daily occurrence. When bogged, I either leave the puzzle and do some real work and come back to the puzzle in the evening, or stare rather mindlessly at the hive and fool with the letters in my head.
After a mindless while, a nice word popped up in my head. But it was questionable because the dictionary might consider it a brand, or label or something like that. Then I grinned evilly (also a good word) and said, “I’m going to try this. Are you going to reject it?”
The Times did not reject it.
The word was “ANTIFA.”