We finished the Big Puzzle and needed another one.

It took us about three weeks to put in the last piece. We didn’t work night and day every day.

The Big Puzzle was Really Big. 3,000 pieces. The difficulty of size was compounded by the picture itself. It was an old Fifteenth Century map of the world.

There was too much detail compounding itself, a plethora of tiny writing that needed a magnifying glass. There were two borders, inner and outer. There were mythological figures all around the edges. There were old names of things we don’t use anymore. There were little ships in the ocean, and latitude and longitude, and an occasional whale or sea monster.

It was the known world as known at the time. That’s why the New World where I live was mostly a Big Blank.

We took turns working on patches, and often all three of us worked together on the Family Project.

Chaz was the Puzzle Meister. He had found the box downstairs and brought it up to dominate the dining room table.

Kristina was an edge specialist.

Chaz matched pieces with the picture on the box and pounced them to their proper place.

I was mostly color and shape.

One of the perks of retirement is the time to do puzzles. We all had time.

There was one especially memorable moment. We were down to looking for final pieces, hoping there weren’t any missing. It was an old puzzle and had been around stored for years.

I found a puzzle piece in my shoe! It had somehow fallen in hours ago and I had walked around on it unknowingly. When I took off my shoe, there it was!

There was universal laughter, then universal cheers.

We finally got to the last piece. After all that, there was still one piece missing, an edge piece, standing out like a missing tooth or a sore thumb.

We could hire a professional crew to search the house, but prudently decided that since the puzzle was already used when Chaz inherited it from his parents , it was more likely that the missing piece was long gone. So we were the recipients and probably blameless.

Anyway, we needed a new puzzle.

There are puzzle maniacs who actually glue their finished puzzles together, frame them, and hang them on the walls like an art gallery of triumph.

We are not such. Though we did run our hands sensitively and lovingly over the surface to verify the smoothness of the perfect fit.

But now we needed fresh meat, a new puzzle, hopefully as difficult and thus as rewarding.

So Chaz and I drove down to Mr. Mopps’.

That’s an iconic toy store in Berkeley, mostly catering to children, but also carrying things like games and puzzles for older children, which includes adults.

They even have a separate annex for books. You can see it through the open adjacent door.

We asked the young sales woman, “Puzzles?” and she led us right to them. The harder ones with more pieces are on the lower shelves, proving that adults can still bend and stoop.

Most of the harder puzzles were 750 pieces. We laughed without sneering. There was one with 1,000 pieces. We scoffed.

We told the sales woman that we had just finished our last puzzle which had 3,000 pieces. She almost fainted.

We talked puzzles for some time and she took it upon herself to search and place an order for another such Big Puzzle which we swore to come back for upon its arrival. I offered to pre-pay in advance, but she said, “No, no.”

We talked for quite awhile because the other customers were being taken care of by other staff.

I of course talked about my years of teaching, my wonderful students. She responded. I talked about my renewed writing career, which cunningly led me to produce my card.

The old card identified me as “Poet/Writer.” The new card says, “Writer,” but that’s enough to convey the message. She said she’s a writer too, beginning, tentatively, working on screen plays.

I was too shy and insecure and felt unqualified to offer a stranger my time as editor, the way I worked with my students through draft after draft to a finished polished product.

When we go back to pick up the ordered puzzle, I think I’ll make the offer. She seemed willing to trust my opinion and advice. I would be teaching again.

She also promised to look at my blog tonight after work.

I guess she did, because there were six views logged in from Berkeley.

So we bought the interim puzzle, 1,000 pieces, a wonderful landscape painting with a bear lying on its back in water surrounded by lush landscape, looking upward into the sky past the butterflies.

It promised to be challenge enough, with a satisfying pictorial completion.

We clutched our prize, went back to the car, and drove for food.

Kristina had mentioned ribs, dropping a blatant hint, so we began the hunt. There are options. Everett & Jones, which satisfies. Angeline’s Louisiana Kitchen, the Gold Standard and worth every penny.

We were driving past Lizzy’s Cajun Café which almost shouted “Ribs” — we had never been, always wanted to try, so we drove around the corner and parked.

The door on the side street was open, and the man who might or might not be the owner but looked like Louisiana, held it open for us as we came in and looked at the proffered menu.

He was openly friendly and gave us as much time as we needed while he sat at a little side table, writing notes. “I’m getting ready for a wedding.” We assumed catering.

We put in our order. Two for ribs, Kristina and me, sides of beans and special potato salad. Chaz ordered jambalaya, which almost made me re-think my own order.

The smells from the kitchen were overwhelmingly enticing and I started to drool.

He said, “You can wait around the corner. I’ll bring it right to you when it’s ready.” His demeanor made us glad we had stopped here.

Around the corner through an open door, into a café with tables and chairs, another open door leading to an overflow of tables and chairs for larger parties.

Another man, even older, looking like Louisiana, ushered us to seats at a table where we could wait in comfort.

He offered water, we thanked him yes, and he brought two tall glasses with good water and lots of ice.

He may be the one on the menu whose name is listed above The Ribs.

He sat at a nearby table, making notes, maybe for the aforementioned wedding. He was very friendly, and said, “She’s in Europe taking her son to school.”

We assumed he might be referring to Lizzy. He said, “I just got in a shipment of catfish, and I have to prepare them. Tomorrow morning, we’ll have beans and rice. Tuesday and Wednesday we serve Ethiopian. Thursday on, it’s cajun.”

Good to know, so we can come back more often.

The first man who took our order came in, said, “Almost ready,” and brought us each a lovely little side salad “to tide you over while you wait.”

Chaz gave me his tomatoes because he’s not enamored by them.

I myself was almost overwhelmed by the restaurant’s thoughtful generosity. “You just don’t hardly ever see that anymore, old school, down home.”

A large oversize man came in carrying an open carton of ice cream with a spoon, sat in a chair by the door, and began spooning ice cream into his mouth. After awhile, they brought out his food in a bag and we watched him depart like a fellow traveler.

When our food came out, we could smell right away the righteousness of quality, and quickly drove home.

Kristina greeted us at the door and clapped her hands, “Ribs!”

“Well, you dropped the hint…”

I gave Chaz a bit of rib, but reluctantly demurred from a taste of his jambalaya because “It looks like I have more than I can eat, which in my case is really saying something!”

He gave Kristina a jambalaya bite and she said, “Yum!”

I heard his agreement with talk about “a surprisingly wonderful lot of shrimp.”

Next time, I will.

I dug in to my own commodious offering, ribs big and wonderfully juicy with plenty of rich sauce, and sides of beans and potato salad which left you happily satisfied.

I ate and ate and still had one rib left for tomorrow.

We talked about us all going back tomorrow morning for breakfast.

We stayed up too late working on the puzzle, and slept in, but we will go back very soon. Kristina will love it. She had tried years ago but it was closed.

Now, the food and friendly people draw us like a lodestone, and it’s high on our list, as it should be on everybody’s.

We may see you there.