New York Times crossword March 27 / Constructed by Kevin G. Der

This puzzle had so much going on that it couldn’t be contained in a regular 21×21 square. Instead, it’s a rectangular grid that just so happens to be shaped like a … bowling alley. Well, “bowling alley” was not the first thing that came to mind when I saw the puzzle, but the six circled letters on each side happen to spell GUTTER, which kind of helped.

There was a bowling alley hidden in this nontraditional grid.

There were some other clues as well: 9 Down (“Bit of free time”) is a SPARE MOMENT; 49 Down (“5-4 ruling, e.g.”) is a SPLIT DECISION; and 101 Down (“Suited to a person’s strengths”) is UP ONE’S ALLEY. Those were centered (outlined in red in my picture) in the alley, which also had four PINs and a curving BALL in it.

The PINs were arranged in a “big four” split (in blue in my picture), and the word was squeezed into single squares: “Like some skiing” is AL(PIN)E (15 Across); “Yenta’s habit” is SNOO(PIN)G (21 Across); “Nina accompanier” is the (PIN)TA (17 Across) and “Bally enthusiasts” are — wait for it — (PIN)(BALL)ERS (24 Across).

So now we have a bowling ball on the scene. Actually, the ball first appears — as it would in real life — at the bottom of the alley in 126 Across (“Yellow pool items”): ONE (BALL)S. Took me a while to figure out they meant billiards pool, not swimming pool. The ball then curves out toward the gutter in 102 Across (“Balancing acts?”) — (BALL)ETS — and out some more in 76 Across (“‘Cat ___,’ 1965 film”): (BALL)OU. Then it magically begins to curve back to hit the outside of the 6-pin, with the aforementioned (PIN)(BALL)ERS answer. I’m assuming this is the sweet spot that, in real life, would turn this nightmarish split into a spare? Only if you’re Roy Munson or, perhaps, his archenemy, Ernie McCracken.

Of course, all of those BALLs and PINs work for the Down words, too. Good ones include S(PIN) DOCTORS (“P.R. people,” 3 Down), T-(BALL) GLOVE (“Child-sized mitt,” 69 Down) and BASE(BALL) TEAM (“Nine,” 81 Down). Go Phils! Opening day is Friday!

Didn’t Quite Get It All Dept: Eagle-eyed readers will notice I’m missing a couple of letters in the area of 29 Down and also around 38 Across. I don’t know my Jonathan Swift, or jazz, as well as I should. (Inspiration might strike me later tonight but I wanted to get this post out first.) Feel free to help out!

Still Experiencing Technical Difficulties Dept.: My Twitter feed @crosswordkathy is having problems but I hope to have it restored very soon! In the meantime, I’m tweeting from @kmatheson. Thanks for your patience!

Update Dept.: Turns out I missed one step in the BALL’s path toward the split. “Ticket presenter” (50 Across) is a (BALL)OT. I thought it was COP. That made it very hard to get 39 Down as well (“Schemed together”), which was CA(BALL)ED.

New York Times crossword March 20 / Constructed by Brendan Emmett Quigley

Oh, this will be a piece of cake, I thought after seeing the “Chick Lit” title of today’s puzzle. I’m not exactly a fan of the genre, but I figured I knew enough of the best-selling titles. So I started scouring the grid for the spot where BRIDGET JONES’S DIARY would fit. And maybe FEAR OF FLYING, too?

I wasn’t thinking literally. That became clear after I got crossing letters THE STE_____ for 39 Across (“Chick lit book #3 [1965]“) and filled in THE STEPFORD WIVES, which fit perfectly. Oops. It was THE STERILE CUCKOO (which I’ve never heard of). But that clearly told me the eight books that made up the theme were indeed “chick” lit — titles with birds.

Technical Difficulties Dept.: My Twitter feed @crosswordkathy is experiencing some problems but I hope to have it back on line very soon! In the meantime, I’m tweeting from @kmatheson. Thanks for your patience!

New York Times crossword March 13 / Constructed by Patrick Berry

When I saw today’s dialogue-based theme clues in italics, my heart sank. Ugh, I thought. Not another bad joke like the “High School Reunion” puzzle from last month.

Well, it was almost that bad. The twist this week was that instead of a straight running joke through the puzzle, this dialogue — actually it’s a monologue — is filled with spoonerisms. The Rev. Spooner referred to in the title apparently has a habit of swapping the consonants in his phrases, rendering them … different, but unfortunately not that amusing.

So the story goes like this:

“I suppose it might seem odd that a reverend like myself would suddenly begin MARRYING THE KALE.” (23 Across). That would be instead of CARRYING THE MAIL. Get it?

It continues:

“… but I’ve always thought MOST PASTORS had a more fun job than I do” (31 Across). “For an avid philatelist like me, sorting envelopes is thrilling — I might spot a STAIR RAMP!” (35 Across) “When a man is nervous about shipping breakables, I tell him, ‘CRACK YOUR PATE carefully, sir’ …” (48 Across) “… and I write ‘CANDLE WITH HAIR’ on the box, which seems to reassure him” (60 Across).

“The best part of the job, of course, is when I’m out on the street RAKING MY MOUNDS” (68 Across). “I’m a bit leery of dogs — it’s unsettling to enter a yard and hear some GROUND HOWLING at me …” (80 Across). “… but dogs can’t spoil how much I enjoy driving around in the TRAIL MUCK” (96 Across).

“Homeowners get excited when they see me opening their BETTER LOCKS …” (99 Across). “… and when I hand-deliver a package, the recipients are positively CHILLED WITH FEAR – it’s very satisfying!” (109 Across).

“Very satisfying” — I wish I could say the same for this puzzle. Meh.

Don’t Tase Me Bro! Dept.: “Hit with a charge” is TASE (36 Down), a term made famous by the viral video of the University of Florida student subdued in 2007 at a John Kerry rally. (It’s also the central action in this photo by my AP colleague Matt Slocum, who captured the use of a stun gun on Phillies fan Steven Consalvi.) According to the Associated Press Stylebook, by the way, Taser is trademarked name for a stun gun and an acronym for Thomas A. Swift’s Electric Rifle.

Title Search Dept.: In 65 Down (“Title for de Stael: Abbr.”), I figured out the answer was MME (for “madame”) but still had no idea who it referred to. Wikipedia says it’s author Germaine de Stael.

Babbling Brook Dept.: I had no idea that “Babel” (78 Down) was more than just a biblical tower; apparently, it also means NOISE. Funny — “Babble” means pretty much the same thing.

And did anyone else notice the variety puzzle is an acrostic for the second week in a row? Isn’t is supposed to alternate weeks?

Questions or comments? Tweet me @crosswordkathy or visit my Facebook page.

New York Times crossword March 6 / Constructed by David Levinson Wilk

Sorry to say I’m cutting short my post today due to mobile blogging issues. My mi-fi is acting up on Amtrak and im finishing this post on my iPhone. Arrrgggghh.

“For Your Edification” isn’t really an edifying puzzle in terms of bettering yourself, though it will improve your knowledge of famous people named Ed. The grid is filled with Eds of all stripes, from actors and politicians to a late-night talk-show host and a CBS newsman. The key is to separate ED from its root word in a common phrase: “Be willing to apprehend Mr. Bradley at any cost?” is to WANT ED DEAD OR ALIVE (23 Across).

Others: “Punish Mr. Harris in a medieval way?” is BURN ED AT THE STAKE (31 Across); “Get Mr. Koch addicted to a modern reading method?” is HOOK ED ON PHONICS (43 Across); “Preside over Mr. O’Neill’s baptism?” is a BLESS ED EVENT (66 Across); “Do Mr. Sullivan’s stand-up material?” is CRACK ED JOKES (75 Across); “Prohibit Mr. McMahon from ever socializing again?” is GROUND ED FOR LIFE (93 Across); “Perform brain surgery on Mr. Begley?” is TOUCH ED IN THE HEAD (103 Across); and “Put Mr. Meese in an Armani suit?” is DRESS ED TO THE NINES (116 Across).

Wonder if constructor David Levinson Wilk tried to fit in either Mr. Ed or the ever-gregarious Ed Rendell (former Pa. governor, former DNC chairman, former longtime Philly mayor and current sports columnist and political commentator).

Spring Training Dept.: “Pirates’ home” in seven letters is not SOMALIA but PNC PARK, the bank-sponsored stadium where Pittsburgh’s struggling baseball team plays.

Heard in the Hospital Dept.: I only hear the word COAGULATE (“Thicken,” 1 Across) when medical types on TV are talking about blood. I’ve never heard a doctor say the word “Adipocyte” (90 Down), though it is apparently a fancy way to say FAT CELL.

Just Born Dept.: “Mike and __ (some jellybeans, informally” (40 Down) are Mike and IKES, manufactured by Just Born Inc., not far from Philadelphia in Bethlehem, Pa. The company also makes Peeps, those yellow marshmallow chicks that should be everywhere pretty soon now that Easter is coming up.

Seeing Things Dept.: “‘Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out’ subject” is LSD (6 Down), which played a role in a bizarre movie I watched last night called “The Men Who Stare At Goats.” Great cast (George Clooney, Jeff Bridges, Kevin Spacey, Ewan McGregor), but it left me kind of … meh.

Questions or comments? Tweet me @crosswordkathy or visit my Facebook page.