Puzzled.

Oh my goodness. My sister-in-law gave me FOUR new jigsaw puzzles (good ones, too, with pieces that actually fit together) and I'm completely and totally consumed by this first one.

I don't know precisely when my relish for puzzles came about, but I'm pretty sure the seed was sown at my grandparent's house. They frequently had a 1000-piece going on a card table, usually with one single piece hidden by my mischievous Boompa.

At the therapy center, we always have a puzzle going in the waiting room. When it's finished, we paint it with craft glue, frame it, and hang it on the wall. We probably have at least 25 puzzles completed - hard ones, too. Puzzles are fantastic for figure ground discrimination and attention development.

Everyone has their puzzle plan of attack, but it's usually a variation of:

1. flipping over all the pieces

2. organizing the straight edges

3. building the frame

4. diving into whatever little space calls your name first

5. and organizing like pieces as you go

If my back and eyes would allow it, I could sit and work on a puzzle all day long. I'll go 10 whole minutes with no progress and start to get frustrated. And then... all it takes is ONE PIECE to fit and I'm back into it.

The only thing I don't like is when I'm finished. I have about 1.3 minutes of satisfaction when I run my hands over the entire, glossy, finished product and breathe a sigh of contentment. But then what? I don't glue and frame them at home (I prefer "real" mediums for our wall art). I can't leave it out on the dining room table. So I have to do it. I pick up the edges and watch my hours of labor crumble. It all goes back in the box.

Jim will humor me for a few minutes every once in a while and join me on a puzzle. He readily says, though, "I'd rather create something".

Oh, well... I think I'll go finish that patch of sky and clouds...