Theme: Investor's quip
- 20A: Start of an investor's quip (I BOUGHT STOCK IN A).
- 39A: Quip, part 2 (BLANKET).
- 41A: Quip, part 3 (FACTORY).
- 55A: End of the quip (BUT IT SOON FOLDED).
[Crosswordese in today's puzzle that we've already covered includes ARAL (29A: Asian inland sea), À MOI (11D: Mine, in Metz), STYES (33D: Eyelid maladies), and DELE (62D: Take out, editorially).]
I'm trying a new thing where I solve the puzzle at night and then blog about it in the morning. Not really sure how much I like it. I thought it would force me to go to bed earlier, but I just stay up late reading instead. I also thought that as soon as the kids left for the school bus it would be calm enough that I could concentrate on this, but sometimes (like, say, this morning), my kids don't have what I would call a real smooth transition. PuzzleDaughter was in tears this morning because she didn't read for her whole 20 minutes last night and now she's going to flunk third grade. PuzzleSon was still stewing about a perceived insult from his sister last night. So I was still running on the Mom Adrenalin when they left and crashed off of it, like, five minutes later. But here I am now, so let's just go ahead and talk about the puzzle.
Let me tell you what I don't like about blogging sometimes. Sometimes I'm in a great mood and I sit down to solve a puzzle I'm going to blog and I visualize myself loving the puzzle. I think about all the fun little words I'm going to come across, all the "aha" moments I'm going to have, and the sense of satisfaction I'll feel when I'm done. Then I think about how much fun it will be to sit down and share it all with you guys and follow your responses throughout the day. When it happens like that, I love it! When the puzzle is a complete disaster, on the other hand, I hate it. Fortunately, this one was somewhere in the middle. But even though I didn't hate it, it always feels like kind of a bummer not to love it. What didn't I love? Well, I'm not a big fan of quotation/quip puzzles. If the quip is really super clever or funny I don't mind it. But I don't want to go through the work of piecing together a quip and then not be dazzled by it. Today's quip? Not so much.
But how about the fill?
- 6A: 1/2 fl. oz. (TBSP.). I wanted dram here. I don't know what a dram is, but it sounds cool. And for more weights and measure see 31A: Butcher's units: Abbr. (LBS.)
- 10A: Copacetic (JAKE). Not sure I've ever heard JAKE used this way. Anyone?
- 14A: Absolut alternative, briefly (STOLI). Have a STOLI with a couple ROLOs (15A: Caramel-filled candy) and that sounds like quite the snack.
- 23A: Firefighting aid (HOSE). Firefighters will be visiting the kids' school tomorrow, which I think is an awesome thing to do on that particular date. If you guys see firefighters and police officers tomorrow, thank them! They are true heroes!
- 25A: Pleasing breeze (ZEPHYR).
- 43A: Dentist's request (RINSE). I wrote in smile and immediately felt like an idiot.
- 65A: "Chestnuts roasting ..." co-writer (TORMÉ). The Velvet Fog.
- 71A: Weasellike mammal (SABLE). I initially entered stoat.
- 9D: College in Claremont, California (POMONA). Shout-out to Rex's alma mater.
- 13D: Place whom Sundance liked (ETTA). We talked about ETTA before but in her usual incarnation as Ms. James's first name. Today she's ETTA Place, the Sundance Kid's companion, played by Katharine Ross in the 1969 Newman/Redford movie.
- 40D: Neat and trim (KEMPT). Typically seen in its UN- variety.
- 57D: Chapeau's perch (TÊTE). French!
Everything Else — 1A: Syrian president (ASSAD); 16A: Fail to include (OMIT); 17A: Hawk's hook (TALON); 18A: Reason to cram (EXAM); 19A: Kentucky Derby entrant (COLT); 24A: Turndowns (NOS); 34A: Gallic she (ELLE); 35A: Appointment (DATE); 37A: Words on a desk box (IN/OUT); 44A: Pool table boundary (RAIL); 46A: Sensible (WISE); 47A: One way to get directions (ASK); 48A: "Serpico" author Peter (MAAS); 50A: Good-sized chamber ensembles (OCTETS); 52A: 45 or 78, e.g.: Abbr. (RPM); 53A: Elmer Fudd, for one (TOON); 63A: Western team that beat the Crimson Tide in the 2009 Sugar Bowl (UTES); 64A: Source of a suit (TORT); 66A: Fill fully (SATE); 67A: 20th century basso Pinza (EZIO); 68A: Cyberletters (EMAIL); 69A: If's partner, in logic (THEN); 70A: Quantum __ (LEAP); 1D: Piedmont wine region (ASTI); 2D: Attempt (STAB); 3D: With no help (SOLO); 5D: Lifeboat, perhaps (DINGHY); 6D: Old waste allowances (TRETS); 7D: Premium opera house spot (BOXSEAT); 8D: Blind part (SLAT); 10D: Athletic types (JOCKS); 11D: Mine, in Metz (À MOI); 12D: Ceramics baker (KILN); 21D: Golden __: Mongol invaders (HORDE); 22D: Baby's ailment (COLIC); 25D: Striped equine (ZEBRA); 26D: Perry of fashion (ELLIS); 27D: Big board (PLANK); 28D: Coop moms (HENS); 30D: Get a new mortgage on, briefly (RE-FI); 31D: Certain NCO, slangily (LOOIE); 32D: Pop (BURST); 36D: Gillette Mach3 predecessor (ATRA); 38D: Food-minus-pkg. measure (NT. WT.); 42D: Standoffish (ALOOF); 45D: Oregon city near the mouth of the Columbia (ASTORIA); 49D: Dutch brew (AMSTEL); 51D: Bills with Franklin on them (C-NOTES); 52D: Up from bed (RISEN); 54D: Leading the league (ON TOP); 55D: Narc's arrest (BUST); 56D: Westernmost D-Day beachhead (UTAH); 58D: Move like sludge (OOZE); 59D: __ Linda: San Bernardino suburb (LOMA); 60D: Far from flashy (DRAB); 61D: Jannings of old movies (EMIL).