Like Strawberries in December Answers

Answers to October 17's puzzle below.

Like Strawberries in December

My very first variety cryptic. Variety cryptics are cryptic crosswords with a twist unique to each puzzle. Instructions for this particular grid follow.

This was supposed to be done in time for Monday's update, but I completely underestimated how much more difficult these were to make than normal cryptic crosswords. Took me easily twice as long to build, and I even copped out a little; it's not my most elegant grid by any means, with a few entries with two unchecked squares in a row, though all words have at least half their letters checked as per cryptic guidelines. Also it's typical for varieties similar to this one to have eight "special" entries, but this puzzle has only six. Anyone who has successful built a variety with eight is free to mock me.

P.S.: I had a wonderful clue that I had to scrap just because it may have been mildly pornographic. Pornogrammic? Anyway, I'm posting it here for posterity, because the surface sense just worked so well. 

ALTERNATIVE CLUE FOR 53-ACROSS

Nonchalantly covered hard-on with necktie's corners, seized firmly

Like Strawberries in December

Six answers in this variety cryptic need to be altered before they'll fit into the grid. The unclued entry at 33 across describes what's wrong with the six modified answers. All other answers are entered normally.

Tautology Excerpt

This is an excerpt from a finished story I wrote about relatively normal stupid highschoolish tragic romance things. If nothing else, it's at least far more accessible than a lot of what I write. It is presently half in a very embarrassing form, but eventually it should be polished enough to do something with. This bit is actually around the 2/3rds mark of the story, but I don't think it needs too much of an introduction; most things can be intuited. I'll say that Lauren is Matt's girlfriend, Carl has a boyfriend away on a long trip, and Matt's family is going through difficult times financially.

I wrote this whole thing during a John Updike phase, and as a result one thing I've had to do is pull out some unnecessary metaphors. Bits of the story are still drowning in them, sometimes in a good way, but I think this section is mostly under control.

Oz Bedroom (Answer)

Have been away in the internetless depths of upstate New York this past week, so posting has not happened, as you may or may not have noticed. Answers to the puzzle posted 9/24/12 below. Here's a hint for those who don't want the answer yet: At one point I'd considered naming this puzzle "Against All Odds."

Newest Age Spike

In late elementary school I was crazy about Lunchables. In retrospect I have absolutely no idea why. Back then they resembled food even less than they do now.

In early elementary school my parents got divorced. In retrospect I think I understand why a lot better than I did at the time. Back then I thought we resembled a happy family.

After the split my dad was the one who bought me Lunchables. I'm not sure if that's telling of anything - money situations, time available for making lunches, opposition to childhood obesity. Like most people it's still weird for me to think of my parents having histories - of having had opinions and worries and experiences and lives in general before I became old enough to see those things for myself. 

My mom had an apartment for a little while, in the same complex that my grandma lives in now. I have incredibly fond memories of the apartment itself, and incredibly unfond memories of the time surrounding it. My sister and I stayed with her one night a week, evenings filled with desperate energy, frantic efforts to memorize each other's company for recollection during the long stretches apart. Eventually she found a house an easy bike ride from Dad's, and we learned a new normal. 

I think one of the saddest (and best, but that's beside the point) books ever written is East of Eden. It is the most devastating feeling in the world to do something wonderful and heartfelt for someone, with no ulterior motive, and be rejected. 

On a spring afternoon I returned home from 5th grade through the side door that led from the garage into the kitchen and found Mom smiling, a Wegmans bag in hand. In it, she revealed, was the first Lunchables she'd ever bought for me: one of the taco varieties. Sensible; she knew I was a huge fan of Friday taco night with my dad. She knew I loved Lunchables. She didn't know that the taco meals were the one kind I didn't like.

Her excitement and generosity were too much. In what must have been a baffling development, I started crying.

It was an enormously trivial occurrence. 

Sometimes I feel like it resonates, though, rustling neurons with similar frequencies. I worry sometimes that my mom doesn't understand how much I appreciate the things she does for me. By all objective measures, I'm more my dad's son; we have similar interests, mannerisms, even laughs. But my mom taught me how to stand up for myself; how to listen, and how not to; how to make friends and keep them. How to survive in a chaotic world. When I want to talk geekery I go to my dad, but when I want to talk about people - be they myself or others - I go to mom. Some of my happiest memories are of sitting among family in the warm glow of a full stomach after dinners she's hosted, roasting by the fireplace or laughing in the midst of the absurd game of the week. 

I do my best to thank her after every meal, every unsolicited gift, every trip and visit, but there's only so many ways to say it before it becomes too repetitive to take sincerity as given. So here's a new way, or a louder one, at least:

Thanks for the Lunchables, Mom, and for everything else. I love you. Happy birthday. 

Oz Bedroom

Today we have a simple brain-teaser with a variety of answers. I wouldn't say "many," but there are certainly more than one. Your goal is to complete the following tiny story with two lines that obey the pattern established by the first eight lines. (Or just to figure out what the pattern is, if you're lazy.)

Bouncer

ate wood.

Etcher? Never.

If forum (re:

a fail) vies,

use I axe!

I see a view - no, 

seeing photo:

__________

__________

Cryptic Crossword 3 Answers

Answers to Cryptic Crossword 3 below the break.