Puzzle Trash-Talking

My mom came up for the long weekend, and we pulled out a puzzle to fill the gaps in between playing with my son. We’ve been puzzling together for years now, pushing ourselves to finish a ridiculously difficult puzzle in a very short timeframe. Each time, we’ll both say that we won’t make it, but we always do…even though sometimes it comes down to the wire.

We have a system that works well for us. She starts on the edges, while I pick the hardest part of the puzzle…the sky, the ocean, the grass…and try to knock it out. I learned long ago that most people will save the hard part for last, because they’re intimidated by it. They’re hoping that they’ll have eliminated enough pieces beforehand to have a running start at the hard part. I prefer to face it head on.

Truth be told, I’m weird when it comes to puzzles. If I’m working alone, I won’t put the edges on until the very end. I like the challenge of the free-form chaos, forcing you to beat the puzzle on equal terms.

After she finishes the edge, my mom will pick some other, easily-identifiable part…a castle, or colorful canopy, or people…to work on. She’ll patiently pick away at it, making slow progress, while I am wiping out the hardest and, often times, largest section of the puzzle. When I’m done, I’ll move on to the second hardest part…the trees, or bushes, or something else equally uniform in color.

In my pretend cockiness, I’ll trash-talk my mom at how much more progress I’m making than her. And she’ll dish it right back, saying something like, “You wouldn’t have been able to do that, if I hadn’t grouped all the pieces together for you.” It’s all good-natured fun, and it helps pass the time and make our time more interesting.

Besides, the real race happens when I finish my two large sections, and we layer in my mom’s contribution. My mom excels at filling in the one-off gaps, and she’s constantly finding the exact piece I’ve been looking for for the last ten minutes. She makes up a lot of ground quickly, and this is a major reason why we’re able to squeak by at the eleventh hour.

I love these puzzle sessions with my mom. I’ve been fortunate enough to have done dozens and dozens of puzzle with her through the years, and I always miss it when we don’t get to do one.

Geoffrey the Giraffe

My stepmother recently reminded me of a fond memory from my high school days. She, my father, and I were watching TV one night when a commercial for Toys ‘R Us came on.

My father: “I don’t like those Toys ‘R Us commercials. That talking giraffe really freaks me out.”

My stepmother: “You know he’s not real, right? Giraffes can’t really talk. He’s animatronic.”

My father: “Of course Geoffrey is real! An animatronic giraffe couldn’t own a toy store!”

Me: “So, you think they trained a real giraffe to do all of those things in the commercials?”

My father: “Why not? Is that so hard to believe? They can train dogs and horses, why not a giraffe?”

My stepmother: “Train him to own and run a toy store?”

My father: “Why not?”

The sad part is that I think he was serious. Still makes us laugh.

 

UPDATE: If you’re at all curious, it was in fact an animatronic giraffe made by the Stan Winston Studio for Toys ‘R Us. In most commercials, it was only a robotic head in a box, not the whole body.

The Jeanie Rub

When I was growing up, my father had an electric back massager called the “Jeanie Rub.” He’d gotten it soon after he’d been in a car accident and hurt his back. The engine on this thing was so powerful and rough that it was like getting a massage from a jackhammer! You even had to hold it with two hands or you'd lose control of the thing. Your entire body would shake like the thing was trying to tear you to bits. I’d be flexing my muscles so hard to withstand the torture that I’d end up more tense than when I started.

Needless to say, it was not a relaxing experience. In fact, my father was the only one that could stand it. But it was the only massager in the house. So, if your back hurt, it was damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Pick your poison and hope you survive.