I am absolutely addicted to puzzles of all kinds: jigsaw on the table, jigsaw online, mind puzzles and many solitaires, especially Free Cell, which is a type of patience game and yes, it does require patience. I have solved the expert category of Free Style, but not often and there was a small celebratory “whoop” afterward.
“Free Cell is sometimes used as a test case for artificial intelligence and machine learning, as it involves planning, reasoning and decision making under uncertainty and partial information.” That’s what Wikipedia says. I find planning under uncertainty a concept I understand.
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My husband, Tom, says people play solitaire because nobody cares if they lose. Or cheat. The downside is you can’t look smug when you win, either. Well, you can, but again, nobody cares. But then, Tom is a cribbage guy. You know, the “How many ways can you get to 15?” card game.
He brought the cribbage board to the hospital when I was having our first baby. Yes. Yes, he did. It was not a successful distraction. I realize I’m probably missing the nuances of the game since it’s lasted for hundreds of years, but I’m sorry — it causes my eyelids to clang shut with boredom every time.
Scrabble and Words with Friends are favorites, too. I have a good friend who installed Scrabble on her phone. Word got around that she had developed an eating disorder and the reason she was always sneaking out to the parking lot at work was because she was gobbling Butterfinger bars. One of her co-workers surprised her out there while she was sitting in her car. Was it littered with candy bar wrappers? Nope! She was playing Scrabble.
Me? I love the logic puzzles where you determine the answers by comparing the clues. Here’s one about shoe size, the brand of shoes and the cost of those shoes for four women. One of the clues is: “Of Estelle's pair and the Williford Shoe Company footwear, one was a size 4 and the other was a size 6, but Mary’s pair was red."
And another: “The mogul from England is worth $1 billion more than the person who works in the banking industry but the person who works in the pharmaceutical industry is from Canada.” Love it!
And the block puzzles where you slide pre-configured colored block combinations into place in a 10-by-10 grid. It’s very visual and I can usually run out my phone battery with that one. I think it may not fall into the “mind-broadening or strengthening” category, but, before I put it on the “frivolous” list, I would think about the non-chaotic, sensual enjoyment of seeing all that color fitting together.
Yes, I’m easily entertained. Do you think that’s a problem?
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I’ve become spoiled by playing on my computer, where some little guy inside the box instantly shouts “Wrong!” with flashing lights. I don’t have to get to the far end of my Sudoku to find that I have screwed the whole thing up back at entry No. 5.
I like that the same guy spends his time sorting out all the edge pieces of the jigsaw puzzles and I just have to click on the symbol to have it happen. I really like that I can make a puzzle happen instantly using a picture of one of my quilts. Ah-mazing!
I’m also pretty sure the Mahjong I play on my computer is a completely different animal than the real Mahjong that has carved ivory markers and comes out of a beautiful teak chest with drawers opened by tiny brass handles. But that doesn’t diminish my enjoyment of playing it.
I consider my Electric Quilt computer design program a type of puzzle and when I was laid up with a back injury, I used it to design a couple hundred quilts. I call them “make-believe quilts” because, let’s be real, there are too many for me to ever produce. But it is so much fun to do I can’t stop. That’s where the addiction comes in.
I once made a quilt to enter into a Nine Patch competition. It was put together with background space between the patches, so it looked like an unfinished puzzle. The design had 52 Nine Patches, which the viewer was challenged to find. (See picture of Nyne Patch Puzzle.)
You say you like puzzles, too? But you never have enough time to play unless you sneak them in when nobody’s home. So, there you are, mid-afternoon, poring over your New York Times crossword puzzle. You have the completed Sudoku page laid on the kitchen table and your minister comes to call.
Obviously, you are not being productive and are just wasting your time, when you should be painting the bathroom or figuring out how to accomplish world peace. The minister probably doesn’t care, but you feel guilty. You have my permission to use the excuse I always use. It’s a little flimsy, but if said with all sincerity, the observer with an accusatory look on their face will buy it.
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Pull out a chair next to you and say jovially to them, “Come! Join me in my daily brain exercises. It’s one of the most important things I do for myself as I get older."
And you know the most astonishing thing? Your visitor will probably sit down and join in. Because you’re right. It is!
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