No Stretching Required

Label me old-fashioned if you feel so compelled, but I make mammoth batches of popcorn on my stove-top, I dry my laundry out on the clothesline, or on racks inside if the weather is inclement, and I still enjoy working jigsaw puzzles.

I separated the pieces from the sky, canal and stone wall.

Take “Proverbidioms,” my current project, the puzzle I chose to assemble while welcoming in the 2017 Holiday Season. A 1,500 piece puzzle, this is at least the third time I have put it together, a miracle in and of itself because it means the pieces must be either all there, or close to it.  Otherwise the puzzle becomes starter fuel for the morning fire.

Let’s face it: You either love or disdain jigsaw puzzles because there can be no middle ground. No rookie ever sidled up to a 1,500-piece-puzzle, without getting slightly dizzy at the prospect of searching through so many similar shapes, to find just one. Only one will fit despite the best efforts-short of a hammer-to convince imposters to at least try.

Conversely, no puzzle-freak ever sidled up to a 1,500-piece-puzzle, without getting slightly giddy…at exactly the same prospect.

The reality is that almost no puzzle worker worth his salt would ever waste his time in such a low-production mode. Everything comes to puzzle pieces which wait, including the right spot, so why slow down the process for the sake of 1/1,500th of the whole picture?

That being said, there is no correct way to put together jigsaw puzzles no matter how many pieces there are. Convention would seem to dictate that one must start by putting the frame together, so I have automatically rejected that approach almost my entire life. 

To me it is unnecessary labor because as the puzzle develops, the outside edges become nothing but the icing on the cake and extremely easy to fit together, once the interior has been finished.

No one can argue with the first step, though: All puzzle pieces must be arranged so that they are face-up. Nothing can be done until this takes place, or almost nothing. I actually start by selecting two or three possible beginning points, and then as I turn all of the pieces face up, I separate these points of interest. 

I place the edge pieces together on one card.

In “Proverbidioms” I chose the sky, the canal and the stone wall alongside the canal, and culled out all of the pieces I encountered, placing them on three separate pieces of cardboard. You can use any size you like; mine are more or less one square foot and I "inherited" them from my mother, Pauline, who was the most avid jigsaw puzzle worker I have ever met. The tomato dosen't fall far from the bush, I guess.

The cards stack easily and allow me to have a better chance of being able to see all the pieces on each card, with none double-stacked. The other component of the puzzle I separate in this initial organizational process, is all pieces that have straight edges, including the four corner-pieces. 

I then pretty much ignore these straight edges until it becomes apparent that I have reached the edge(s) of the puzzle. One obvious reason for beginning with the frame, is that one can then work from the outside into the center, and have a multitude of possible starting points.

Which brings me to one of the most important reasons why jigsaw puzzles can serve as the perfect Holiday prop: Everyone is equal on the “playing field,” no matter how much expertise you do-or do not-possess, or where you are sitting. All it requires is that you pick up a random piece, peer intently at any part of the puzzle, and if anyone asks what you are doing, furrow your brow, glance over for a nano-second and then patently ignore such a stupid question.

You’re working the puzzle. Besides, no one would ask such a dumb question, because everyone is too busy chatting about the family nut case.

My progress, as of Sunday morning...

If you’re not certain who that is, chances are it’s you.

One can get up from a puzzle at any time without disrupting the rhythm of the assembly. There is no need to stretch before resuming work. Perfect for solo going, or working in a crowd. 

And if you are lucky, no dog will chew up either the box or any of the puzzle pieces which have had the misfortune of landing on the floor.

Or no toddler will chew up a puzzle piece, as I did to my older brother Brian’s puzzle, when I was of an age. I’m not sure he ever forgave me, though he hasn’t brought it up for a while now. [Editor's note: Wasn't that last New Year's Eve?]

Who knows? As a toddler, I may have been sorry, or I may have simply been hungry. 

A guy has got to eat, you know?