NYT Connections Hint - February 11, 2026

Hey, word nerds! 🕵️‍♀️ Did anyone else’s brain do a tiny somersault when "cake" ended up in the same club as "brick" this morning? I spilled half my latte staring at the grid, convinced the NYT was pranking me. Turns out my breakfast pastry is apparently a close cousin to a hockey puck—who knew? Strap on your mental elbow pads; today we’re swooning, earning, and maybe even roller-skating down memory lane.

Word Explanations

• NET

  • The quiet hero of paychecks everywhere. "Net" pay is what’s left after every last deduction has nibbled away—kind of like fishing out the last brownie after everyone’s had a piece. In finance it also shows up as "net gain," which is basically the universe telling you, "Congrats, you’re officially ahead!"

• RINK

  • Frozen water, neon lights, scraped knees—rinks have it all. I once tried to impress someone by skating backward here; the relationship ended, but the bruise on my ego lasted longer than the one on my knee. Whether it’s roller or ice, the rink is a oval-shaped arena where balance goes to die and stories are born.

• MOON

  • Earth’s original night-light. The moon is also what your heart supposedly does when you spot your crush sliding into your DMs: "I’m totally mooning over them." Bonus trivia: moon dust smells like spent gunpowder, according to astronauts who got a whiff—romantic, right? 🌝

• CAKE

  • Dessert, yes, but also a slab of compressed anything—soap, dirt, even snow. I’ll never forget stacking "cakes" of alfalfa on my cousin’s farm; each one felt like a hay spa treatment for my allergies. Dense, sweet, and surprisingly industrial.

• RETURN

  • The financial boomerang: you invest, you wait, and (fingers crossed) money spins back bigger. Also the moment you realize you left your keys at home and have to do the sad walk back—zero gains there, only shame.

• PUCK

  • Little black disc of chaos. It’s basically a rubbery cookie that flies at windshield speed and somehow always finds your shin. Fun fact: NHL pucks are frozen before games to reduce bouncing, so they’re literally ice-cold jerks.

• BLOCK

  • The OG building toy. Kids build castles, adults stub toes—equal opportunity rectangle. In computing, a "block" also means stopping digital nonsense cold, which is exactly what I wish my phone would do to spam texts at 3 a.m.

• GAIN

  • The happy opposite of "lose." Whether it’s follower count, muscle mass, or a few seconds in a race, "gain" is that tiny green arrow pointing up on every chart. Linguistically, it’s related to "against"—because you gained ground by pushing against resistance. Deep, huh?

• PINE

  • The verb version is pure angst: to pine is to ache quietly like a cellphone on 1% battery. Interestingly, the noun "pine" tree also oozes sticky sap—so whether emotional or arboreal, everything about pine is a little bit clingy.

• BRICK

  • Red, rectangular, and ready to build worlds. Bricks have been hoarded by pigs (thank you, Three Little Pigs) and musicians alike: Pink Floyd’s "Another Brick in the Wall," anyone? They’re civilization’s Lego pieces, minus the mid-night foot ambush.

• COASTER

  • Marble, wooden, or stomach-dropping steel—this ride is all about controlled panic. I once screamed so hard on a coaster I pulled a neck muscle; 10/10 would do again. The name comes from early railways where cars coasted downhill under pure gravity—no engines, just pure "yikes."

• BAG

  • Groceries, gym shoes, or guilty secrets—everyone’s got one ready. Fun phrase tangent: to "bag" something can mean to claim it ("I bagged the last donut"), which is probably why my pantry feels like a trophy case.

• DERBY

  • Flat-track chaos on eight wheels. The sport is famous for punny player names like "Terror Swift" and, ironically, for being one of the most welcoming sports communities around. If you haven’t watched women smash into each other while wearing glitter helmets, you haven’t lived.

• SWOON

  • Faint, melt, evaporate into romantic vapor—however you picture it, swooning is the body’s dramatic way of saying "yep, I’m overwhelmed." Victorian ladies supposedly used smelling salts to recover; I use iced coffee and fanfiction breaks.

• YIELD

  • In traffic it means "let the other guy go first," in farming it’s what a field gives back, and in finance it’s the percentage greasing your wallet. The Old English root means "to pay," which is oddly soothing—everything balances eventually.

• YEARN

  • An old-fashioned word for craving—so strong you can practically taste the missing thing. Linguists link it to "grief," which tells you everything about how desire and ache hold hands. Yearn is the marathon runner of romantic verbs: slow-burn, long-haul, heart-stretchy.

Theme Hints

1. ACT LOVESTRUCK

   • They’re all on the emotional bingo card of "hello, cupid just shot me."

2. EARNINGS

   • If these showed up on a spreadsheet, your bank balance would probably smile.

3. COMPACT MASS

   • Think of things you could probably stub your toe on—dense, chunky, and unapologetically solid.

4. ROLLER ___

   • Imagine you’re strapping on four wheels—what could follow?

Answers Explanation

My tiny victory dance came when I finally spotted the roller-thing pattern—I may have yelled "Derby!" loud enough to startle my neighbor’s cat. ✨ This grid was a neat reminder that words are shape-shifters: a cake can be dessert or a hockey puck’s cousin, and swoon-worthy yearning hides in the same drawer as pine-tree perfume. I loved the moment the financial quartet clicked—proof that my yearly tax dread has at least taught me some vocabulary. If today’s puzzle made your heart do loop-the-loops, congrats; we survived another linguistic roller rink together. Grab a snack (maybe a little brick of cake?), rest those neurons, and I’ll see you tomorrow for the next round of happy head-scratching.