There are inconsistencies in the term áo dài. The currently most common usage is for a Francized design by Nguyễn Cát Tường (whose shop was named "Le Mur"), which is expressly a women's close-fitting design whose shirt is two pieces of cloth sewn together and fastened with buttons. A more specific term for this design would be "áo dài Le Mur". Other writers, especially those who claim its "traditionality", use áo dài as a general category of garments for both men and women, and include older designs such as áo ngũ thân (five-piece shirt), áo tứ thân (four-piece shirt), áo tấc (loose shirt), áo đối khâm (parallel-flap robe), áo viên lĩnh (round-collar robe), áo giao lĩnh (cross-collar robe), áo trực lĩnh (straight-collar robe). (wikipedia)
• • •
[3D: "Bingo!"]
Startled by this puzzle initially because I couldn't believe how easy it was. I should not be able to move through a Thursday grid with this little resistance. It took so long today before I hit a clue that made me hesitate even a bit. In fact, I was literally this far into the grid before I hit a clue I didn't know instantly:
I was thinking of the wrong kind of "interest" and couldn't figure out why ACCRUE wouldn't fit. "IMBUE ... that's not a word for interest." So I switched to crosses, got PIQUE, and off I went again. The puzzle was 90% Monday-easy, on what should be the trickiest day of the week. Now, the theme did make you have to think a little, that's for sure, but when you can work every cross of every theme answer so so easily, you don't really have to sit there thinking—you can just quickly hack your way to a nearly complete answer and then reason it out from there. So my main take away from the puzzle, sadly, was that the editor should've tightened this thing up—a lot. It's insultingly easy for a Thursday. You have to give regular, longtime solvers something to chew on late in the week, come on.
The overall easiness of the puzzle made the one truly original and unfamiliar answer in the puzzle very jarring. Like, you're just feeding me MAA and LLAMA and ORE etc. and then you throw an ÁO DÀI at me! Yikes. I was like "what are you doing here? you've stumbled into 'Intro To Crosswords'—you want the Advanced Class, down the hall." I was thrilled to have a bit of a struggle and learn a new term, if briefly terrified that the crosses would suddenly fail me and I'd be left with a DNF on what had been, to that point, the easiest Thursday puzzle in the history of the universe. Actually, getting the "correct" answers was particularly reassuring, as AODAI is not a letter string that inspires confidence in an English speaker who is completely ignorant about Vietnamese fashion. "Am I spelling Maggie MAE right? Dear god I hope so." The coolness of ÁO DÀI is, sadly, completely offset by the horrificness of AIS, which crosses it. AIS is never going to fly as a plural. Delete it from your wordlists now, constructors, I'm begging you. First of all, no one wants AI in their crossword. It's being shoved down our throats in every other aspect of our lives, so it would be great if you could not aid and abet the sickening ubiquity, thanks. Also, AIS ... just look at it. On its face, a truly ugly three-letter answer. Detonate it now, you won't regret it.
As for the theme ... I like that the grouping is tight (i.e. the answers to the visual-madness clues are all articles of clothing). I don't think all themes require revealers, but this one probably could've used one simply because ... why? The articles of clothing are arbitrary. They seem to make a nearly-complete outfit, but ... whose? Why not do [Jerks] for HIGH HEELS, for instance?* There's no real logic to the items in clothing, and a clever revealer might've given a greater sense of coherence to the whole endeavor. Also, I'd probably keep all other clothing answers out of my clothing puzzle (sorry, TUXEDO, I know you're a cat, but you're obtrusive. Yeah, and take DIADEM with you). The actual visual trickery in the clues is pretty clever. But I'm having trouble believing in BACKWARDS CAP. I mean, you might wear your baseball cap backwards, sure, but a BACKWARDS CAP is not an article of clothing. It's just a cap ... that you have chosen (why, dudes, why?) to wear backwards. "Yes, excuse me, miss, does this store sell BACKWARDS CAPs?" You see what I mean. The backwardness is not intrinsic. You could, however, buy a CUT-OFF TEE or a MINISKIRT or STRIPED SOCKS, though you probably made your CUT-OFF TEE at home, and if you did, is that really what you call it? I think of "cut-off" as being for jeans and "crop(ped)" as being for shortened tees. A CUT-OFF TEE is a kind of "crop-top," isn't it? Is it? Anyway, those first two themers felt slightly less on-the-money than the second two, but I have to admit that I kinda liked working all the clothing answers out, so ... despite the disheartening easiness and the mild imperfections of the theme, I had a good time.
Bullets:
24A: Fish more formally known as a batomorph (RAY) — had the "R" and thought "ROE! ... wait, that's not a kind of fish, that's fish eggs. So ... R- ... R- ... Ruh-roh." And then it came to me. I grew up never thinking of RAY as a standalone word. It was always preceded by stuff like "manta" or "sting" and so RAY never leaps to mind when I see "fish." Just some dude's name.
[There was a brief time in the late '70s when this guy was a cultural phenomenon. No one remembers why. Future archaeologists and/or aliens are going to be like "what the f—?"]
46A: Legal boundaries? (ELS) — a "letteral" clue (referring to a letter (or letters) in the clue itself)—the ELS ("L"s) are the first and last letters (i.e. "boundaries") of the word "Legal." To someone who does cryptic crosswords literally every day (i.e. me), this clue is transparent.
8D: Philanthropic group with a clock face in its logo (ELKS) — I had no idea. I figured it just had an elk in its logo. Big building with BPOE (Benevolent and Protective Order of ELKS) written on it downtown, never noticed any logo or clock face. Let's have a look:
[Holy cow that is most definitely a clock face. "Elks: We Know What Time It Is!" "Elks: Closed from 5 to 7" "Elks: The Real Plural Is 'Elk,' We Know, We Know"]
9D: The so-called "pineapple isle" (LANAI) — thought maybe KAUAI. I was on Maui once and they definitely had pineapples there, too.
48D: Large-eyed African antelope with a duplicative name (DIK-DIK) — if this answer was as mysterious to you as ÁO DÀI, I understand. But as a longtime solver, my antelope lexicon is oddly vast (NYALA, ELAND, ORYX, ORIBI, etc.), and so DIK-DIK came to me quickly. Did you know that an auto rickshaw is called a TUK TUK (onomatopoetic for the sound of its two-stroke engine)? Well if not, now you know (TUK TUK = two previous NYTXW appearances) (DIK-DIK: five ... though this is the first in almost 50 years! I must've seen it in other puzzles...).
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
*"heel" is another word for "jerk" in the sense of "bastard," "asshole," "rat," etc.
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THEME: "ISN'T THAT SPECIAL!" (58A: Condescending rhetorical question ... or what you might say about 16-, 26- and 44-Across) — three things that might be called "special":
Theme answers:
OFF-YEAR ELECTION (16A: Nontraditional time for voting someone into office)
SOUP OF THE DAY (26A: What a waiter might offer to start you off)
VISUAL EFFECT (44A: Bit of movie magic)
Word of the Day: Zombie (1A: Establishment that serves zombies, perhaps = TIKI BAR) —
The zombie is a tikicocktail made of fruit juices, liqueurs, and various rums. It first appeared in late 1934, invented by Donn Beach at his Hollywood Don the Beachcomber restaurant. It was popularized on the East coast soon afterwards at the 1939 New York World's Fair. // Legend has it that Donn Beach originally concocted the zombie to help a hung-over customer get through a business meeting.The customer returned several days later to complain that he had been turned into azombiefor his entire trip. Its smooth, fruity taste works to conceal its extremely highalcoholiccontent.Don the Beachcomberrestaurants limited their customers to two zombies apiece because of their potency, which Beach said could make one "like the walking dead." // According to the original recipe, the zombie cocktail included three different kinds of rum, lime juice,falernum,Angostura bitters,Pernod,grenadine, and "Don's Mix", a combination ofcinnamonsyrup andgrapefruitjuice.// Beach was very cautious with the recipes of his original cocktails. His instructions for his bartenders contained coded references to ingredients, the contents of which were only known to him.Beach had reason to worry; a copy of the zombie was served at the1939 New York World's Fairby a man trying to take credit for it named Monte Proser (later of the mob-tiedCopacabana). [...] The cocktail is named in the lyrics for the song "Haitian Divorce" on the 1976 album The Royal Scam by Steely Dan. (wikipedia)
• • •
Well, this one started out hot—strong cocktails, right out of the gate...
... and then you get a few crosses, layer in some HATERADE (14A: "Drink" for focal critics), and then boom, there goes the first themer (which I actually got without having to look at the clue) (you solve Monday puzzles Downs-only for long enough, and you get real good at pattern recognition):
And then you cross all that with "IT FIGURES..."? Yes, I was pretty happy coming out of the NW corner (not something I say a ton). The puzzle sort of faded from there, though. It didn't crash and burn; it just kind of ... wilted. The fill gets extremely weak in that central choppy section (all 3-4-5s)—it was like falling down stairs, moving through that section, and when I landed at the bottom of the stairs, I turned around and took a picture (for insurance purposes—those are faulty stairs!):
You start out firmly in crosswordese territory with LIRE / ODIN, and then, once you round the corner into the middle of the grid, you go CFO NOLO HOOHA YOM HODA DEL ALEAP, clunk clunk clunk clunk, hitting your head on every step. It was like those answers were sounds I was involuntarily uttering with each impact. The rest of the fill holds up OK (your EKEs and your SLOs notwithstanding), but the good vibes of the NW become a kind of distant memory, and the theme ... sigh (he SIGHED). I want to like it, and I think there's a cleverish idea here, but the specials are inconsistently special. For the first and third, "Special" can simply precede the last word in the phrase in order to describe what you're talking about, e.g. an OFF-YEAR ELECTION is a "special election," a VISUAL EFFECT is a "special effect." But SOUP OF THE DAY works differently. That's just a "special." Unless it's supposed to evoke the phrase "special of the day," but ... that phrase tends to refer more to entrees. A SOUP OF THE DAY is not the "special of the day." It's just ... a special—an example of an offering not typically on the menu. I think the thing that's bugging me most about the theme, though, is VISUAL EFFECT. All "special effects" are visual. So VISUAL EFFECT feels like just a dumb adjective swap-out (VISUAL for "special"), and a bad one, in that VISUAL EFFECT feels the less natural-sounding term. "Special effects," common phrase; "VISUAL EFFECTs," less so. Those two phrases are basically synonyms, whereas the other themers are examples of a type. An OFF-YEAR ELECTION is a kind of special election. SOUP OF THE DAY is a kind of restaurant special. VISUAL EFFECT is just a weaker way of saying "special effect." (although according to this wikipedia entry on "visual effects," they're actually increasingly distinct from "special effects," with "special" referring to mechanical effects and "visual" referring to digital). There's just something slightly off, slightly loose and clunky, about the way the theme is executed. But like I say, the core idea is at least interesting ... and we'll always have that NW corner.
Pretty easy solve today. I have no idea what SAGE OIL is, so that took some hacking (48A: "Essential" product used as an anti-acne treatment). I've heard of TEA TREE OIL, but not SAGE OIL, but then I've never had much of an acne problem, so this is really beyond my purview. Took me a bunch of crosses to see MOLASSES (it's perfectly clued, I just couldn't think beyond tortoise ... why is the tortoise and the hare story stuck in my head?) (38D: Epitome of slowness). The worst mistake I made today—maybe the only true mistake—was writing in TAKE POWER instead of TAKE POINT (32D: Be in charge, informally). TAKE POINT is apparently a military term, which is funny to me, as I always assumed it came from basketball (since the point guard typically runs the team's offense). And I know the phrase, when used metaphorically, as "run point." TAKE POWER really felt right, and as you can see, it has all but three of the same letters as the actual answer, so that slowed me down. The clue does say "informally," and there's nothing particularly "informal" about TAKE POWER, so I probably shouldn't have pulled the trigger on it. But I had TAKE PO-! How was I supposed to lay off?
Bullets:
15A: European city that "waits for you," in a Billy Joel tune ("VIENNA") — this song has a funny history. It never charted—I don't think it was even released as a single—but it became one of the most popular songs in Joel's repertoire and is somehow now a certified triple platinum record (!?). Apparently the movie 13 Going on 30 (2004), which featured "VIENNA," really caused the song to blow up. Anyway, it's a charming song.
64A: Words a teenager might say with an eye roll ("YES, DAD") — the "eye roll" got me; I was expecting a lot more surface sass. Something slangy, maybe. But no, just a straight phrase of assent, dripping with teen exasperation.
1D: Mustachioed president who succeeded another mustachioed president (TAFT) — four-letter mustachioed president = TAFT. The mustache is all you need to know "not BUSH." Oh, crap, I forgot about POLK! POLK did not have a mustache—just really high collars and (by the looks of it) a need to consume human blood.
[POLK! (p.s. the other "mustachioed president" mentioned in the clue was T.R.)]
9D: Careful, this might be hot! (MIC) — gah, a hot MIC. I was like "MAC ... because MAC & cheese ... is hot?"
62A: John in the sketch "The Fish Slapping Dance" (CLEESE) — this was way harder than it should've been because I read the clue as [Join in the sketch "The Fish-Slapping Dance"] and could not fathom how one might do that.
25D: Spot to drink a matcha with a Manx (CAT CAFE) — do they really have purebred cats in CAT CAFEs? I've still never been in one. I love cats, obvs, but something about trying to drink / eat around that many strange cats gives me ... paws.
That's all. See you next time.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
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THEME: TWO-DRINK MINIMUM (52A: Requirement at some comedy clubs ... or for 17-, 22-, 33- and 47-Across?) — there are two drinks "hidden" inside each theme answer:
Theme answers:
PENTATONIC SCALE (17A: Standard musical progression)
CHAIR UMPIRE (22A: High court judge?)
TEAM SPORT (33A: Basketball or baseball, but not boxing)
TWIN ENGINES (47A: Matching pair on many jets)
Word of the Day: SUE Bird (19D: Bird of the W.N.B.A.) —
Suzanne Brigit Bird (born October 16, 1980) is an American former professional basketball player who played her entire career with the Seattle Storm of the Women's National Basketball Association (WNBA). Bird was drafted first overall pick by the Storm in the 2002 WNBA draft and is considered one of the greatest players in WNBA history. As of 2025, Bird is the only WNBA player to win titles in three different decades. In 2025 she was inducted into the Women's Basketball Hall of Fame and the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame, and in 2026 she was inducted into the NYC Basketball Hall of Fame and the FIBA Hall of Fame. In addition to her WNBA career, Bird played for three teams in the Russian league. [...] Bird has won a joint-record fourWNBA championshipswith the Storm (2004,2010,2018,2020),fiveOlympic gold medals(2004,2008,2012,2016, and2020),two NCAA Championships with UConn (2000, 2002), and fourFIBA World Cups(2002, 2010, 2014, 2018). She is one of only 11 women to attain all four accolades, and is one of only two basketball players—of any gender—to win five Olympic gold medals.She is also a five-timeEuroLeague Womenchampion (2007–2010, 2013) // During Bird's WNBA career, she was selected to thirteenWNBA All-Starteams and eightAll-WNBAteams. She was voted by fans as one of theWNBA's Top 15 Players of All Timein 2011, was voted into theWNBA Top 20@20as one of the league's top 20 players of all time in 2016, and was voted intoThe W25as one of the league's top 25 players of all time in 2021. Bird retired from professional basketball after the2022 WNBA season.
• • •
I kinda like this theme, or want to like it, but the overall fill was so abusively stale today, from almost square one, that I found it hard to enjoy the puzzle. Unless you are a mathematician, I suppose, ENNEADS is one of those words that exists only in crosswords. It always seems like such desperate fill, and to encounter it right away was really deflating. And then to get AER right after that, on top of slightly less annoying but still slightly annoying gnat-like answers like CPA and AWS and SERE ... it just felt like not nearly enough care went into polishing the grid. "I've seen it in crosswords before, must be OK." Even SMORE and IOWAN felt like they were out of Central Crosswords Casting. I don't mind short simple words, but I do mind a barrage of words that scream "crosswords! you know me from crosswords! hey, how ya doin'? nice to see me again?" No. We're still doing Beau GESTE? In 2026? On a Tuesday? We're still doing EGAD? EGAD. As for the theme—TWO-DRINK MINIMUM is a really interesting revealer. It's a snappy phrase in its own right, and it kinda indicates what's going on in the theme. Kinda. I have two picky things to say about TWO-DRINK MINIMUM, though. One is, with these phrases, you don't have a TWO-DRINK MINIMUM. You have two drinks exactly. If one of these phrases had three drinks in it, I think my mind would've been blown, because that would've captured precisely the spirit (!) of the phrase. That is, it would've made the "MINIMUM" part seem something other than extraneous when it came to the execution of the theme. The other thing I found mildly annoying was the highlighting of the "drinks" inside the theme answers. Visually ugly and completely unnecessary. Let Me Discover The Drinks!!! You let me discover the SMALL STARTS yesterday, you can let me discover the "two drinks" today. Having those "drinks" outlined in bold felt condescending. If you want to do something in the app where the "drinks" light up or bubble or explode or whatever once you're finished, I guess I don't care about that. But flagging them ahead of time? Bah. Child's placemat stuff.
The puzzle was also very easy. The fill was clued in an extremely straightforward manner, for the most part. There are a handful of "?" clues to try to make things at least a little twisty, but they didn't add much difficulty in the end. After wanting to cram in YOU ARE at 1A: What you eat, I then wrote in FOOD. Also wrong! But that was my only mistake of the day. Oh, and I had CAT POSE before COW POSE and BON AMIE before MON AMIE (39D: Term of friendship for a French woman) (should've known BON AMIE was wrong—for a woman, it would be BONNE AMIE). Other than that, there was exactly one clue that made me stop long enough to think "huh?" And that was 34D: Leaves together? (PILE). I knew right away that "Leaves" was going to be a noun rather than a verb (I've seen enough "leaves" puns in TEA and SALAD clues to last me a lifetime), but SALAD wouldn't fit and I couldn't think of a four-letter TEA starting with "P" so ... I had to work the crosses. Yes, if you rake a bunch of leaves "together," you do get a PILE. I had trouble making the leap from mere "togetherness" to a PILE structure specifically. Perhaps if this puzzle had come out in autumn, the connection would've been clearer. This clue is the only one I'd classify as "difficulty" in the whole puzzle. The rest is (mostly) remedial trivia and straight definitions.
Bullets:
42A: Heads of Hogwarts? (LOOS) — gratuitous Potterization. Always a bad choice. Grow up. ("Heads" are toilets, which is where this clue belongs)
60A: Breads for Reuben sandwiches (RYES) — I was all set to say "there shouldn't be any drinks in this puzzle outside the theme answers!" and then realized that this was a bread clue, not a whiskey clue. No foul!
29A: Joint thing in the Venn diagram of "instruments" and "fish" (BASS) — I see what you're doing here, but no. They're spelled the same, but they are not the same, and so would not be a "joint thing" in a Venn diagram. Unless you can play the fish like an instrument, in which case, I withdraw my objection.
30A: "That's so sweet!" reactions / 46A: "Ick!" ("AWS" / "EWW!") — you can have one one of these reactions, but you may not have two. Eww, no. One. One awkwardly-spelled reaction maximum! This applies also to U.S. state demonyms. You used yours up with IOWAN, puzzle! You can't then try to shove ALASKAN down my throat. Violation!
45D: Major unknowns (BIG IFS) — probably my favorite thing in the puzzle. Nice and slangy. A lot more lively than your run-of-the-mill shorter fill. Oh, I also liked PIGSKIN (25D: Football, informally). Apparently I just like "-IG" words.
8D: Gorp tidbit (RAISIN) — this wasn't my favorite clue, but I am enjoying saying "Gorp Tidbit" over and over. "Hey, who's that new guy over in Accounting?" "Oh, that's Gorp Tidbit." "I'm sorry, who?" "Gorp Tidbit." "Gorp Tidbit? Where's he from?" "Uh ... I don't know. Vermont, maybe?"
That's all. See you next time.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
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THEME: START SMALL (63A: Advice for the overambitious ... or a hint to 17-, 25-, 40- and 50-Across) — every theme answer starts with a letter string that can mean "small":
Theme answers:
BABYLONIAN (17A: Like the Code of Hammurabi)
TOYOTA PRIUS (25A: Pioneering hybrid car)
MINISTRY OF MAGIC (40A: Governing body in the Harry Potter universe)
WEED WHACKER (50A: Gardener's tool)
Word of the Day: MOUE (29A: Pouty expression) —
Moue is one of two similar words in English that refer to a pout or grimace; the other is mow, which is pronounced to rhyme either with no or now. Mow and moue share the same origin—the Anglo-French mouwe—and have a distant relationship to a Middle Dutch word for a protruding lip. (They do not, however, share a relationship to the word mouth, which derives from Old English mūth.) While current evidence of moue in use in English traces back only a little more than 150 years, mow dates all the way back to the 14th century. Moue has also seen occasional use as a verb, as when Nicholson Baker, in a 1988 issue of TheNew Yorker, described how a woman applying lip gloss would "slide the lip from side to side under it and press her mouth together and then moue it outward…." (merriam-webster.com)
• • •
Well, at least there were no remedial, hand-holding circled squares in this one. I got to discover the "small" angle all on my own, without the puzzle unnecessarily pointing it out. I do appreciate that, especially on a Monday, when the puzzle is most apt to be hand-holdy. Solving this one Downs-only, I noticed the "BABY" angle right away, because that's the word that appeared once I had the NW corner sorted, and so I kept trying to imagine what kind of "BABY" phrase that first theme answer could be. BABY LOAFER? BABY LOSERS? BABY LOOFAS? Eventually, of course, I got BABYLONIAN, but the BABY seed had been planted, such that when TOY showed up at the beginning of the next theme answer, I clocked the connection quickly. So the revealer didn't reveal much, but I did appreciate that it involved wordplay—repurposing a familiar idiomatic phrase by taking it literally. I also appreciated that all the "small" words were well and truly hidden inside their respective answers, even if that did mean that I had to endure a Harry Potter reference. I never like seeing references to the work of that bigoted billionaire hatemonger in my puzzle, but I'm giving this one special dispensation because it's thematically ... I don't know if "necessitated" is the right word, but I do know that it's hard to bury "MINI" at the beginning of a phrase that doesn't start MINISTRY or MINISTER. Words like MINIMAL or MINIMUM are etymologically linked to "MINI," so they won't work. And there just aren't great MINISTER or MINISTRY phrases out there. The MINISTRY OF JESUS is a thing, of course, but ... whatever, f*** Harry Potter and his creator, but the answer works, so no penalties have been assessed.
The Downs-only solve was a piece of cake. No sticking points, few hesitations. Took a few puzzled head-tilts to pick up GIVE IT A GO (11D: Attempt something), but SNAKE EYES (33D: Roll of two ones) was no problem, and none of the other Downs were longer than six letters, and the shorter the answers, the easier they are (typically) to get with no help from Acrosses. I say SNAKE EYES was easy, and it was, but my first thought wasn't dice. It was "A roll of two ones? That's a pretty pathetic roll." I was envisioning a roll of cash. You ever try making two $1 bills into a roll? Me either, but I imagine it would be hard. A "Philadelphia roll" is a thick roll of cash with a big bill on the outside and a lot of small bills on the inside (the idea being that you're fronting like you have a lot of money when you don't) (I just learned that the Philadelphia roll is also known as a Kansas City roll, a Texas roll, and a Michigan bankroll, so apparently lots of places came to be associated with phony rich guys). How do I know that term? Shrug, I just do. A Philadelphia roll is apparently also sushi. Sushi with cream cheese. Philadelphia cream cheese, I imagine. I did not know this.
Bullets:
14A: West Coast sch. that joined the Big Ten in 2024 (UCLA) — When I was growing up, the Big Ten and the Pac Ten (UCLA's onetime division) were not just geographically distinct, but they were pitted against each other every single year in the Rose Bowl, so telling me that UCLA has joined the Big Ten is like telling me cats have joined dogs. If you say so, but ... I hate it.
22D: English town famous for its salts (EPSOM) — nailed it, first try (by "it" I mean the spelling of EPSOM; the printer is EPSON; the actor is EBSEN).
32D: Puppy school command (SIT) — for a split second I was prepared to write in SIC. Don't teach your puppy to SIC ('EM), teach it to be a loving lover who loves. It's a sweet baby, not a weapon.
71A: Stereotypically antisocial pets (CATS) — speaking of sweet babies, this clue is dumb. Just because cats are not needy and will occasionally or frequently spurn your affection does not mean that they are not social. Just tonight, Ida came into the room where we were having cocktails and flopped herself down on the floor between us. She didn't want to play or even interact, really. She just wanted to be where we were. That is typical. And that is social. Also, cats sit on their owners, sleep with their owners, climb on their owner's shoulders ... purr, purr, purr, social, social, social.
[Social Ida]
[Social Alfie]
That's all for today. See you next time.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
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A long time ago, I was solving this puzzle and got stuck at an unguessable (to me) crossing: N. C. WYETH crossing NATICK at the "N"—I knew WYETH but forgot his initials, and NATICK ... is a suburb of Boston that I had no hope of knowing. It was clued as someplace the Boston Marathon runs through (???). Anyway, NATICK— the more obscure name in that crossing—became shorthand for an unguessable cross, esp. where the cross involves two proper nouns, neither of which is exceedingly well known. NATICK took hold as crossword slang, and the term can now be both noun ("I had a NATICK in the SW corner...") or verb ("I got NATICKED by 50A / 34D!")