I can’t speak for Gail or Suzanne, but I know I am trying to settle an old score. I have never recovered from narrowly missing the title of the Mitchell County (Kansas) grade school spelling champion. I placed second in the 4th grade in 1976, and never placed again. I never saw the lights of Topeka, never made it to the state bee.

I know this has been lurking around in my subconscious since then. When I was employed at the hospital in our small city over 15 years ago, I dreamed I won the “All-Hospital Spelling Bee.” I correctly spelled “insufferable,” then went on to claim the crown with a hard-to-spell patient’s last name. As if HIPAA would allow. Then, I clearly remember asking: “Does this mean I finally get to go to Topeka?”

Perhaps this helps illustrate my unfulfilled psychological need to win a spelling bee.

So, I keep trying. And, being the stellar spellers they are, as well as being as fanatical as I am about proper spelling, Gail and Suzanne are always up for some healthy adult spelling bee competition.

Suzanne and I have competed in two other adult spelling bees recently: It’s How You Play the Game, February 2nd, 2020 and Under Our Spell, September 1st, 2019. Gail wasn’t able to join us then, but she was with us last night.

We traveled down the road to my beloved Abilene, where Suzanne and I competed two years ago in their bee hosted by Neighbor-to-Neighbor, a very worthy local charity. Gail and I arrived early, enjoyed a Mexican lunch,

found some treasures at the multiple antique stores Abilene is known for,

then warmed up with my favorite libation at my favorite bar/grill honoring my favorite president.

We met Suzanne and the real fun began.

We were a team of three, with six allowed on each of the twelve teams that competed. We were given a word, and had 15 seconds to arrive at an answer. Gail was our spelling spokeswoman, answering the call when the hostess with the microphone arrived at our table.

Each team was allowed to buy mulligans as insurance, which we knew was a good idea. Up until round four, these could be used to excuse a misspelled word to keep you in the game. After correctly spelling facetious, atrocious, formaldehyde and Freudian, we cashed in one of these get-out-of-jail-free cards after misspelling bourgeois.

It was largely a matter of the luck-of-the-draw, as we were fortunate to not have to correctly spell dachshund, whippoorwill, or babiche. We wouldn’t have been able to, as we attempted every word that was given to every other team.

There were several breaks to conduct the raffle drawings, with many splendid gifts donated by generous local businesses and individuals. Just as it was two years ago,

my lucky number was called for the coveted quilt.

I know I am a lucky–and warm–girl.

Snacks and drinks were served, and we are never ones to pass up the good stuff. Masking, as we all know, can create communication breakdowns–or comedic substitutions, so we enjoyed the seasoned “moisture” (oyster) crackers served in small cups when they came around.

The competition resumed. As several of the teams faltered and were no longer in the game, we stayed in two more rounds with maraschino and mausoleum. This round brought the number of teams down to three.

In just two more years, it will be a quadrennium since we first began competing in this bee. However, we didn’t know how to spell this four-year period, and this took us out of the running for first place, as our mulligans were useless at this later point in the game. One of the other two teams spelled coalesce correctly, which made them the champion after the other team misspelled debauchery.

At this point, to award the silver and bronze, a spell-down was had between us and that team. The final volley went back and forth, with them correctly spelling duodenum, machismo, encephalitis and picaresque. We correctly spelled hootenanny, connoisseur, tautology, portmanteau and kriegspiel.

When the host handed them vichyssoise, they were done. We would have been done after that word, too. I felt both excited for us, but knew that word was a bummer for them. Not many people in these parts eat this thick, cold French soup made of leeks, onions, potatoes, cream and chicken stock. Even fewer know how to spell it, I would guess.

Our kriegspiel, or wargame strategy was, first and foremost, to have fun. We certainly accomplished that. And we brought home a $60 purse.

It was already past my bedtime when the party ended, but I can stay up late when there is such fun to be had. I was wide awake, and with only that one Blue Moon beer in my system prior to the bee–I was the chauffeur for the 30-minute drive to drop Suzanne off, and 20 more minutes to my home. We headed first to the gas station to fill up Gail’s car. At the light, two fine young men in the car next to us alerted us to the fact that she had a headlight out. So, our kriegspiel to keep from being noticed was to take the back roads, and it worked.

Just a mile from my home, Gail and I had to take a moment to capture another “moony” Kansas night on film, as the crescent moon hung low in the western sky. When they were young, her daughters called this the “fat fingernail moon” and it brought back those good memories for her. The elements of the memorable evening, the second place prize, abundant laughter and now this beautiful nightscape coalesced into a perfect alchemy.

And, as always, the time spent with my sisters is the maraschino on top.