Christina Iverson author page

★ Sometimes, a themeless feels like it was created specifically for you. The legends around OUROBOROS have fascinated me for decades, so I created a crossword around it. As a decades-long fan of "The Simpsons," I admire how their neologisms like CROMULENT and "embiggen" have entered English vernacular. Maybe words like "craptacular" have a dumbening effect on our youth, but sometimes numbskullery is so superliminal.

A year ago, I was baffled by the word COPYPASTA. That quickly turned into side-splitting cackling as I perused well-known examples. "How do I get my husband to stop going 'Goblin Mode' during sex?" isn't for the faint of heart. Or for those afraid of busting a gut laughing.

I was put off by COPYPASTA / PASTES IN, since COPYPASTA derives from "copy paste," but that's the goblin in me talking.

In the past two years, I've become obsessed with Mediterranean food because of the health benefits but, more importantly, the deliciousness. I haven't made LABNEH yet, but I frequently order it. To hell with my lactose intolerance!

ATTENTION SPAN is a top-notch themeless entry. I was fascinated by optics in college, and though I didn't focus enough to do well, repurposing [Focal length?] made me reflect on those fun times.

Speaking of optics, a lot of the entries I've praised might cause diffraction among the larger solving population, and I sympathize with those who find my happy musings opaque. As some of the wisest constructors have said about this type of potentially divisive puzzle, though, the great thing about crosswords is that if you don't like today's, there's a reasonable chance that you'll like tomorrow's.

Kudos to the NYT team for doing something distinctive in the Sunday Magazine! I loved seeing illustrations in the clues, and finding out that they're Iverson originals makes them even better. The informal yet artistic drawings bring so much personality to this puzzle.

So many of the themers are entertaining, too, especially the ones that drastically change the second word's meaning. LOTTO DRAWING uses a different definition of "drawing," and LEGAL REPRESENTATION is even better. The latter reminds me of my favorite representation of a representative, Barry Zuckercorn.

SPORTS ILLUSTRATED sort of works, but a drawn illustration vs. picture illustrations are too similar.

The crossworld has an unwritten rule called "the breakfast test," You wouldn't want to present anything that would make solvers lose their appetite as they're doing the crossword over breakfast. That SPITTING IMAGE evokes so many tales of servers spitting in people's food — ugh! I'd have much preferred an image of someone spitting a watermelon seed.

Such painstakingly meticulous gridwork! Smooth as silk in the short fill — I can't fault a single entry, which only happens a few times a year — plus a few DEAD GIVEAWAY VEAL PARM IRISH TEA bonuses. It MAKES A FOOL OF other constructors who say, "my grid is good enough," when it really isn't. Getting a 140-word construction this clean is tough, but it's not difficult to get close.

I've seen too many rebuses and wacky wordies over my lifetime to get too excited about this concept, but I give a big round of applause to Christina and the NYT for pushing the boundaries, and exploring more of what the print Sunday Magazine can do. Drawings, color, crazy shapes in grids, whatever — the unique canvas gives it so much potential to shine.

I picked up on the "what ties these disparate things together" theme after connecting BANJO PLAYER to VEGETABLE FARMER. Even knowing the revealer would be some "pick" phrase, it still gave me a pick-me-up. PICKY PICKY PICKY requires solvers to stretch their minds, describing a BANJO PLAYER as "picky" (one who picks). I love that Taylor and Christina didn't go with something more overt, like PICK, clued as [What each of 17-, 32, and 42-Across do, in different ways].

I did take marks off for not including TESS AND JAKE CHEN, who make terrorist ultimatums for only the fluffiest of white bread and artisan spring water from the Swiss Alps.

BANJO PLAYER is a perfect themer, because it's a colorful phrase and unquestionably describes a person who picks (with a banjo pick). TEAM CAPTAIN didn't work as well since most pro TEAM CAPTAINs don't do any selecting. Yes, there are some cases, like in this year's NBA All-star Game, but they're the exception. Thankfully, the humiliating playground actions are left to the Wild West that was elementary school. These days, my kids aren't forced to go through that process, as schools seem to have evolved.

Am I still resentful of continually being picked last, even 40 years later?

NO, YOU ARE!

(Okay, fine, I am.)

TriBond themes work best when the elements feel like there's zero possibility that they could be related, and they all have vastly different ways of connecting to the central bond. I appreciated that the three themers came from such different walks of life, but the meanings of "pick" were awfully similar. Overall though, this theme type can be tough for newer solvers to wrap their heads around, especially with a revealer that employs wordplay, so well done for making this one Monday-accessible.

★ What a great take on the "what connects these things?" genre! The mainstream approach would employ phrases like FROZEN PIZZA, GREAT NEWS, and ICE ICE BABY, tied together by DELIVER THE GOODS (with a clue alluding to the last words of each phrase). That's adequate, though it wouldn't deliver a strong aha for "things that can be delivered." Using all movies helps makes this memorable.

I did wonder at first, why movies? Yes, DELIVERANCE is a movie, so it kinda sorta makes sense to have the other themers be movies. It was a little strange, though, that BROADCAST NEWS and ROSEMARY'S BABY can be delivered, whereas you could hardly order a MYSTIC PIZZA from—

Thankfully, someone in the theater shushed that annoying guy so everyone else could sit back and enjoy the solve. Clean grid, superbly newb-friendly, with a theme that's both interesting and ties to one of the constructors' main interests?

Two thumbs up.

Fun to get more cheap thrills after we had a CHEAP THRILL two days ago. Like all good Asians, I love little more than getting a great deal. One of my most memorable days of 2022 was when I purchased a broken Cuisinart at a yard sale for four bucks and fixed it. My friends quickly got tired of hearing the legend of the $150 food processor — forget about PINCHING PENNIES and focus on squeezing some Jacksons!

And like all good cruciverbalists, I love me some wordplay. MAKING ENDS MEET hauled ass, four synonyms for "ends" meeting in the middle of the puzzle. So well-hidden in INCAN, ASSET, BUTTE, and ALBUM, too.

Second play on BUCK this week! STRETCHING A BUCK gave us doubled SSIINNGGLLEE, along the same lines as Christina's previous literalisms puzzle, but it didn't work as well this time. Maybe it was the required mental leap from BUCK to SINGLE? This doubling stretched plausibility.

I wasn't hot on BI(CENT)ENNIAL (CENT)ER, because it was so hard to change mindsets and allow the possibility of not just a single rebus square, but a pair of them. CENT isn't easy to imagine in there, either — this geography dummy ARAL as a US time zone and didn't look back. Especially with the BICENTENNIAL CENTER being outdated, I'd have preferred something easier to spot, like A (PENNY) SAVED IS A (PENNY) EARNED.

I enjoyed Christina's last take on literal interpretations more than this one, but it's hard to resist the allure of an Iverson / Donaldson collab; two of my favorite crossworld people. Fun vibe with such fun clues like a PIRATE SHIP being an antagonist on the main and dancers having a ball at a DISCO.

Tom, Christina, YOU'RE ON FIRE! There were so many entertaining entries that they eased the pain of having fewer-than-average long entries (only 11, as opposed to roughly 14). WEENIE ROAST, AIR FRESHENER, plus a mini-theme of EMAIL HOAXES / FAN THEORIES / TRUE OR FALSE? Definitely true!

Amazing work in the smile-inducing cluing. THERMOMETER isn't an exciting entry, but [Cold shower?] is Saturday-level punniness. That's shower, as in "a thing that shows."

The clues elevated the mid-length material, too. WINE BAR is already great, and when you play on "ports" as a computer port vs. a dessert wine, it becomes a star. SELFIE as [Something you reach out and take] + AMOEBA as [One confined to a cell?] = chuckles all around.

Even some of the short usual suspects were uplifted by sharp cluing. I've heard a lot of "pitcher" misdirects away from SALE, but [Pitcher's aim?] made me think so strongly of baseball that I couldn't unthink it. And what a great piece of trivia about the YETI. Apparently, you can actually secure a YETI hunting license, YET I still wonder if that's as much a hoax as the YETI.

Notice that if you "flip" the grid (along the NW to SE diagonal), this layout is essentially a standard "stair-stack." The flip gave a fresher feel, moving away from the tried-and-true themeless stair-stack, and it also generated an eye-catching visual. Not sure what the S S in the middle of the grid refers to, but it left me sans souci.

My main complaint was that the puzzle flew by much too quickly. Switching yesterday's and today's puzzles would have made them both stronger, better matching expectations that the NYT Saturday puzzle ought to be the hardest one of the week.

YOU GO, GIRL is right! What a one-two combo of crossword stars. OH, HELL NO, I didn't NEED HELP to enjoy today's solving experience.

I loved the sheer quantity of clever cluing. Such creativity behind [Meter reader?]; a next-level repurposing of a common phrase. (Some POETs focus on their meter.)

Staying along the lines of artistic license, ORIGAMI is so ripe for a delightful clue. [Enterprise that's folding] innocently misdirects toward a business that's going under. Maybe a bit tortured grammatically, but it didn't take much away from the fun.

I'm currently rewatching "Game of THRONEs," so it didn't take long to figure out [Courtside seats?] That repurposing — a literal seat by the royal court — might be my favorite of the bunch.

Only one debut grid entry: ATE FOR TWO. It's a great phrase, but EATS FOR TWO debuted decades ago and EATING FOR TWO showed up recently, so it didn't feel that fresh. I would have loved some GOAT RODEO or SAY THE MAGIC WORD magic. Entries like RODE SHOTGUN and YOU GO GIRL are excellent, although they trend toward old hat for regular themeless solvers.

These days, the competition for themeless slots is brutal. Tons of constructors can produce spotless themeless grids without many (or any) gluey short entries, so you have to have some way of distinguishing yourself to gain serious consideration. Although there wasn't enough new material in the grid, the cluing kept this one entertaining.

I can see why Will Shortz green-LIT this puzzle. The New York Times tends to prefer erudite themes, so you can bet Will would show this one some love(craft)!

BREAKS THE LAWRENCE was the winner. There's something so vivid about the phrase. I was raised to hold books on a pedestal, so I took strange pleasure with this, akin to gawking at a traffic accident.

GIVES A FAIR SHAKESPEARE also intrigued me. Neat that it changed the meaning of "fair" so drastically.

It's a shame some of the alternates didn't make the cut. THROWS A FITZGERALD is what I did when I first read "The Great Gatsby," a teenager wondering what the hell(er) was the big deal. BUNDLE OF JOYCE made me laugh, too, imagining English majors treating a precious tome like an angel(ou).

I appreciated the consistency in always tacking the author onto a phrase that ends with the first part of his/her name, but I'd have loved an extra layer — a finishing the paint job with a second coat(es), if you will.

Maybe all book destruction, with a Fahrenheit 451 meta-theme — HITTING THE BOOKS, perhaps? Riffing on GREEN LIT(ERATURE) ... with phrases about nature? I didn't have an immediate light-bulb moment, but it'd have been fun to chew on this. There are so many themer possibilities that something extra to lift the puzzle to the next level feels within grasp.

Although I didn't lift a stein(beck) to the concept, I enjoyed feeling smart, being able to fill in the authors' names quickly. My education weighed more heavily on tech than humanities, so I'm glad my checkered past(ernak) didn't catch up with me today. Sometimes an easy-breezy Sunday is just what this tweedled-dum(as) needs.

★ What a neat variety of "literal wordplay" tricks! I love that not one of them exactly repeats:

• PAY (literally crossing) through THE NOSE
• PAT ON (top of) THE BACK
• SMALL MINDED squeezed into three squares as (MI)(ND)(ED)
• TONGUE IN CHEEK interpreted as CHE(TONGUE)EK
• ALL EARS = an entry with all EAR rebuses
• Stretch one's legs = ONE'S LEGS elongated to OONNEESSLLEEGGSS
• BELLY UP presented vertically as YLLEB
• SIDE BY SIDE breaks the "no duplications" rule, but in a fun way

I had to work hard to dig up all eight hidden gems, and although there were frustrations along the way, I stretched my brain to its max, having to think in all sorts of different styles, and eventually crossed the finish line.

All that, with only a single short fill ding in PSA? Considering that the Sunday average is about ten gluey bits, that's amazing.

Heck yeah, I SEE WHAT (you) DID THERE — dozens of painstaking iterations to finally arrive at this high-quality product. Can't wait to see what LIEs AHEAD for this pair.

WORK OUT THE BUGS is such a great revealer, pointing at bugs — ANTs, TICKs, FLYs, LICE, etc. — that need to be removed from clues for their entries to make sense.

The italicized clues read so strangely that I knew something weird was happening. For instance, you'd never see a clue like [Malice, more formally] in a regular crossword. Fun to finally figure out that it meant [Ma, more formally], or MOTHER.

[Antarctic coordinate] was my favorite, as I had a vague sense that NORTH POLE wasn't quite right, yet I shrugged and moved on. Later, Jim Horne mentioned that he loved this one because he thought all the clues reversed meaning somehow. Who wouldn't possibly realize that Antarctica is on the South Pole, not the North?

I quickly changed the subject.

I'm glad that Christina didn't end up going with gobbledygook entries in the grid, as those types of puzzles aren't often satisfying. However, Will Shortz rarely takes puzzles where all the wordplay is in the clues instead of the entries because then the grid entries are supposed to play feature roles. It's often a letdown if they don't. For example, I'm not a huge fan of PUBLIC HOUSE as a marquee theme answer.

I did enjoy the creativity of such bizarre phrases like [It has many beet or beef options], but it would have been nice to get more regular-sounding clues that 1.) clearly led to "wrong" answers, and 2.) used more dramatic transformations than "pop fly" to "pop."

Still, the unusual type of a-ha moments made for a pleasant crossword page, if not quite a page-ant.

Hey, this isn't the correct progression! It's race to the hospital, be told that it's false labor, go home, rush back hours later, no progress, walk around the hospital for two hours at 2:30 am trying to induce labor, return home, pass out, dash back …

That might not all fit in a crossword.

Christina and I both have two little kids, so it was super fun to solve this one with her stories in mind. LABOR, PUSH, DELIVERY make for a tidy theme.

Unlike the actual childbirth process.

I appreciated that LABOR was disguised, pointing more toward general work with LABOR DAY. And such a colorful phrase in LABOR DAY WEEKEND.

PUSH THE ENVELOPE also performed some obfuscation, since it's an idiom. Great phrase selection, again.

I had an inkling what was going on by now, and DELIVERY SERVICE sealed the deal. Signed, sealed, delivered, "Name That Tune" was mine! It'd have been great to get more misdirection, but that's tough with a DELIVERY ___ phrase. Maybe DELIVERY ROUTE could have been slightly better, since I've heard DELIVERY SERVICE punnily described as in Ob/Gyn's job?

Only four themers, but the fact that they're grid-spanners does bring up some challenges. The tricky areas are usually the west and east sections, where so many adjacent Down answers have to thread through the middle two themers. I'm impressed that they escaped with only ENO and WVA in the east.

Getting these regions solidly filled, though, often locks things in, removing precious flexibility elsewhere. While I love SORE EYES, having to accept some ELEM isn't ideal. The opposite location is super-clean, but TARGETED isn't that interesting a bonus.

I feel blessed to have the opportunity to get to know a lot of constructors, and that enhanced my solving experience today. It gave this childbirth puzzle more meaning to me, even more than the last one.

Who would have thought a YouTube channel about putting together jigsaws would be interesting? To my surprise — especially since I don't do many jigsaws — I've been gripped by Karen Puzzles. Whether it's her beat up on the Try Guys or getting her take on Jigsaw Treasure Hunts, I can't stop watching. Super fun to see those PICTURE PERFECT MOMENTS at the end.

I liked Christina's general idea of making a jigsaw crossword, especially in a time when a ton of people are stuck at home, doing jigsaws. That would be amusing!

Or would the reminder of pandemic-related activities be annoying? Hopefully not.

Speaking of annoying, some of my rough ideas made Christina say something to the effect of "I'D RATHER BE STUCK AT HOME FOR ANOTHER YEAR THAN DO SOMETHING THAT TERRIBLE!" In a kind way, of course. One concept involved sections that you'd have to solve, then mentally move those pieces onto chunks of similarly-shaped black squares, and that would complete a bunch of surrounding answers.

It made even less sense than that explanation I just gave.

Thankfully, Christina nudged us back into a more productive (less idiotic) direction, and after many iterations, we landed on PICTURE PERFECT MOMENTS in a 3x7 grid. Making sure that:

1. it would be obvious how to fit the pieces in,
2. there wouldn't be confusing ways people would wrongly put them into place, and
3. it would be possible to fill the dang thing around all these constraints …

There were some picture imperfect moments during the process.

Excellent Sunday puzzle, well above the overall average. Note that I didn't say well above Sunday average — Sundays have been underwhelming and not as well-executed as weekday puzzles in recent memory. Thus, this puzzle is way above the typical Sunday offering these days.

It's not a groundbreaking concept — change the R sound to a W, emulating TODDLER TALK — but there's definitely room for tried-and-true concepts if they're done well. And this one is exemplary. We usually judge a sound change puzzle by:

Neat spelling changes. RAIN to WAYNE is fantastic, as are ROOM to WOMB and RISKY to WHISKEY. Not a one is a simple R to W letter substitution, like REB to WEB or REED to WEED.

Amusing results. Batman having to pay for Batmobile upgrades with a paper check = hilarious! Finishing dinner by HITting WOK BOTTOM. And a feel-good moment with AN ELEPHANT IN THE WOMB.

Colorful bonuses. BEER BREWER, DEAD HEAT, HARD SELL, VANNA WHITE, THE F WORD (cheeky!), that's great. But wait, there's more? LIMERICK, NCAA GAME, BO DEREK, ON A HUNCH. Wow!

Smooth short fill. I didn't hitch once in my solve. All you can point out for sure are ALEE and YEE. Given that the typical NYT Sunday has about a dozen dabs of gloop, this is outstanding.

There's no secret to executing on a grid like this. Get yourself a reasonable word list (that separates fine entries from questionable ones), and keep on testing different grid skeletons until you land on something that works without relying on any glue. You'll undoubtedly have to introduce a dab or two to remove dupes, select more colorful bonuses, etc., but more than five is plain lazy. It baffles me that the norm is about 12.

Christina gets how to make a great puzzle, forcing herself to work with only fine grid entries. This is the Patrick Berry school of thought that most everyone aspires to. Yet she's one of the handful who's shown that she truly gets it. It's fantastic that she's passing on these lessons to others.

Impressive array of (mostly) "plus preposition" selections. I wouldn't have thought that there could be so many options: DOWN, OVER, ON, UP … seven in total. Curious to figure out if others would fit this pattern — feels like *S OUT and *S UNDER should have some possibilities.

Down the internet rabbit hole …

The themers are all short, but working with seven themers is tough, no matter what their length. Mid-lengthers can even make life harder than longer ones, because they force black squares in unusual locations. Amy and Christina wisely deployed so many black squares in the center, minimizing the number of down answers working through two themers.

Beautiful result in the short fill, not a surprise given that Christina was involved. I've had the pleasure of working with her, and I appreciate how much attention she pays to keeping things smooth. Keeping the grid to a reasonable 76 words is a pro move. It's a sweet spot; much easier to achieve balance than with a 74-word layout like yesterday's.

I enjoyed the bonuses, JET SKIED, TEACH ME solid. I usually appreciate entries like MATCH WITS, GOES DEEP, but they bled together with today's theme a little.

It's hard to get excited about "plus preposition" phrases in normal fill, and even more so when it's featured as a theme. There was more potential than I thought, though; something interesting about the vast array. Perhaps if the clues had been more animated, even using an exclamation point or some more active verbs, I might have been as well.

Still, great to see the JASA class continue to be productive and a neat connection through the Fb group!

…

…

(Finally back from the rabbit hole, phew! Aptly, I found TUCKERS OUT!)

★ Brash Jeff: I can Guess That Theme in two entries.

BOOT CAMP …

HAT TRICK … Things you can wear!

Bzzt!

THIMBLE RIG … Things you can wear!

Ahem. You already guessed that. Bzzzzt!

IRON MAIDEN … Things you can wear!

Bzzzzzzt!

Well, technically you could wear an IRON MAIDEN. It wouldn't be comfortable, but you could—

Bzzt bzzt bzzt!!!

I love getting bamboozled by a Monday theme. Hitting the revealer—MONOPOLY tokens—I slapped my forehead. I should have gotten it. At least, I should have stopped guessing "Things you can wear."

The BOOT, HAT, THIMBLE, IRON, DOG, aren't a complete set, but it'd be impossible to include all the kooky items they've used over the years. A penguin? T. rex? Don't even get me started on the Pokemon collector's set. I choose you, Pikachu!

What's most important is that the theme set screams MONOPOLY, and this does just that. I'd never heard of THIMBLE RIG, but the THIMBLE is one of the iconic tokens. (The one I always got stuck with. Seriously, a THIMBLE?)

Maybe I'd have used WHEELBARROW RACE in there instead, paired with IRON SUPPLEMENTS. My brother always got infuriated when we landed on the same spot, and I invoked the wheelbarrow carry rule. Your token goes onto mine, and then you have to pay rider's fees, doubling with each step.

What, you never played Calvinopoly?

Stellar gridwork, as I've come to expect from Christina. She did everything right—squeezing BOOT CAMP and HAT TRICK together for smart overall themer spacing, wisely alternating her long down slots (DADS TO BE not interacting much with COWBOYS), choosing great bonuses (SHARK OIL and NO CAN DO!), and all the while, minimizing her crossword glue.

Making a crossword isn't rocket science, yet forcing yourself to work with only common short words and names is something that few constructors adhere to. The great majority give in and say "good enough" way too quickly. Not Christina, always putting in the serious time and hard work required.

Exemplary Monday offering. I'll be pointing newbs to this one, and that's the highest Monday compliment I can give.