What's a 5 letter word for the mad hatter?

5 down really got me: six letter word for pig's innards? Hislet. 5 across was not any easier: five letter word for a bad thing to marry in? Haste.

This is what consumed my Saturday, Nov. 28 from 10:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. I hadn't done a crossword puzzle in so long, but I was reading the paper and it was so enticing.

It looked so easy: simple clues, cute, little boxes. But no. It was devastating.

I don't think I had been that stressed out since, I don't know, the last time I watched Neil Cavuto on Fox have two opposing people from the shoulders up arguing with what the other said a few seconds ago because of the delay in transmission and hearing Neil's scruffy voice try to moderate and get some answers, damn it!

I do get stressed out easily, even when watching others stress out. And I have been busy lately and have had recent and real cause to stress. But this crossword puzzle topped them all. I was babbling nonsense and sweating and hadn't changed out of my pajamas and needed a shower and drank too much coffee and wouldn't let myself eat until I finished.

It all started with trying to incorporate some good family fun into my Thanksgiving break. I often ask my parents to hang out with me. I ask them to watch a movie with me, or play Euchre, or I sometimes force my mom to eat breakfast with me before I have to head off just so we can catch up. They rarely want to chill. But this time, I got them with that checkered box and challenging hints.

I gathered them around and threw out hints.

"Mom, google a herringlike fish!"

"Dad, what's that one unit measurement in physics?"

It was intense and we were bonding.

Until my dad had to run an errand and my mom had a dance lesson. (Yes, she and my father are ballroom dancers. But that is for another time.)

I was left to my lonesome and looked to the internet for answers. I did that thing called "Yahoo answers" and got one of the toughest ones from that. Some mysterious person revealed that a "popular parking spot" was "LOVERSLANE". Oh, it was coming together.

Some people on Facebook tried to help out, but the words I asked of the Facebookers were above their pay grade(s).

My mother returned, took her dancing shoes off, and I made her sit down and help me. We found this cheater website called One Across, and oh boy do I want to go one across that thing. I don't know.

You just have to type in the clue and the letters you have and how many spaces and VOILA, God gives you some possible answers.

So I won, kind of. After cheating, I proudly displayed my glory chicken scratch on the fridge and made my mom give me a hug. She obliged and said, "Okay." (If you know my mom, say the "okay" in your head the way she says it.)

I vowed never to do another crossword again. If I call/text/fb you for help in the future, refuse me. Come over, take the paper, whack me on the head, and tell me to do something more productive like edit the last issue of the paper or do my homework or read that book or write that screenplay or wash your hair!

Or!! We could start a crossword puzzle club. We could sit around and wear sweater vests and eat Twizzlers. And play crosswords of course.

Before my family (minus Elle) started the puzzle that day, my father said that his mother, Ester, used to do crosswords all the time, with her usual Screwdrivers always in hand, of course. I've never met her because she's dead. But I felt like we were kind of hanging out that day. Although these delightful inklings might only have been actual delusions from staring at the same piece of paper all day.

Moral of the story: never do crosswords in pen. And don't cheat. I feel kind of guilty even after a few days.