Riddle Me This

I love doing puzzles.

Jigsaws, crosswords, logic puzzles, mazes, quote-acrostics.

But, hands down, anagrams are my favorite. I love to take the mixed-up letters and help them to find order in a chaotic world. I do the Jumble in the daily newspaper. And I love to play Scrabble. (Although, admittedly, I'm not a champion player because I get a bigger kick out of finding a spot for a good word than I do from racking up the points for teeny, obscure words.)

I've wasted countless hours on my Kindle unscrambling letters. I used to tsk tsk at people who spent chunks of their lives playing Farmville or Candy Crush, but honestly, I am just as bad. I tell myself that I'm working my brain, so that must be a good thing. But maybe it's just obsessive behavior.

You would think that after putting words together all day at work, I'd want to veg out in front of the TV in the evening and sit slack jawed while others did the work for me. And, yes, I do that on occasion. But oftentimes, even when Mr. Ginley and I watch together, we choose a mystery that requires our participation, and we sit there speculating aloud who the culprit is. More puzzle solving.

Fortunately, my better half also enjoys doing puzzles. He works the crossword and the Sudoko that appear in the newspaper. And he does the Jumble after I do (we compare notes over how difficult we found it to be that day).

And, one day soon, I'm going to clear a space on the table so we can put together a jigsaw puzzle. I have about 30 of them sitting in the basement, just waiting to be assembled. Mabel, our geriatric feline, may be to the point where she won't knock the pieces on the floor and skitter them under the sofa. I'm ready to test the theory.

What I will not do is one of those jigsaws where all of the pieces are the same color. There's no skill in guessing. Maybe I'll try the one we got at a rummage sale, the one that features a map and tourist spots along Route 66.

Hopefully, all of the pieces are there. My grandma used to indicate when she had a jigsaw with a missing piece -- she'd mark where the missing piece was located by drawing an approximation on the back of the box.

Well, we'll see. If you hear growls of frustration, you'll know I'm a piece or two shy of a full puzzle.

Of course, you may think that anyhow...