Just a belated shout-out to a hobby I rediscovered yesterday– namely, the completion of the New York Times crossword. Said activity had been a regular part of my weekends before moving– but, as tends to happen when one’s life gets uprooted, routines often get blown out of the water, and sometimes left for dead in one’s new locale. Thankfully, I resumed my Sunday morning go-to this week, falling into that particular sort of meditative head space provided by an innocent-looking word game.
I don’t remember much about Murphy Brown, other than the lead character’s frequently exasperated look, her tendency to wear scarves or high-necked clothing, and a ridiculous scandal caused at the time by her having a kid on her own. But the one scene that does hold a place in my memory is anal-retentive anchorman Jim’s ritual of pulling himself out of the fray, pre-broadcast, and settling his mind to the silent tune of clues and letters helping each other form words. The guy had his own niche in my heart, which was warmed by his need to engage in a regular, unassuming, largely unnoticed hobby.
And now, with a jam-packed couple of holiday weeks ahead of me, I’ve got books and one NYT crossword packed in my too-heavy luggage. Here’s to successfully finding my own little quiet corner, and keeping myself sane with one conglomeration of words or another.