The Jungle, Bob!

We recorded at least three videos. We wrote a sonnet. We Googled and Tweeted; shouted answers across the basement and spoke quietly in tucked away corners, catching up on our lives after a year of separation.
Yes, it's been ten years since we regrouped and have done so every January of the past decade to annually "play trivia." However, Trivia Weekend is so much more than searching frantically for three minutes at a time to answer obscure questions. It's the deepest re-connection to one of many families of creation. As I've written before, these are the people I don't have to explain myself to because they were there when I was becoming who I am now and who I've been since 8th grade. They are witnesses to my personal evolution as I have been to theirs. I ran that theory past my shrink at my appointment the Tuesday before Trivia Weekend and he agreed with my theory, stating, "that's a great philosophical perspective on friendship." And he makes the big bucks?
One of the beautiful traditions of Trivia Weekend is the meticulous documentation created over years of playing. This goes back to an accidental finding of notebook pages with handwritten jam team names from the first years we participated while in high school, circa 1988, 1989. Now we write out roughly one-third of the regular questions, both Garuda questions and the Super Garuda, the final question of this year's contest which will be the first question next year. The meticulousness of writing down questions starts to wain around midnight on Friday, two hours into the 50-hour marathon. This is question 3 as written on our yellow, lined pad of paper from this year: "If you need to compare foods, this place can help. Which has more calories and which has more carbs, butts or super butts?" (Answer: Butts have more calories, super butts have more carbs.) This is how our attention to detail had devolved by question 115: "U of Chicago 2017 quizbowl Chris Ray said not dead but where." (Answer: Ohio.)
We document not only questions and answers, but whether we answered the question correctly, the assigned points per question, that Trivia Central acknowledged our correct response by listing our team number over the air with the litany of all of the other team numbers who also answered correctly, questions we will dispute by messaging the complaint "line" (it used to be a phone number but now operates on Messenger), and significant events that happen over the course of the weekend, i.e., "10:33pm played Girls on Film". In between questions the station plays music and at 10:33pm on Friday they played Duran Duran's "Girls on Film" which is significant because several of us were HUGE Duranies in junior high and high school.
My favorite documentation is collecting team quotes. This weekend my favorite quote is from Jeff: "Hays, are you angry at those chips?" asked while Hays struggled to open a potato chip bag. I know this is one of those had-to-be-there situations, but trust me, it was frickin' hilarious! The gold-standard of Trivia dialogue is from two or three years ago: Hays: "Carrie, where did you Google that?" (Pause) Carrie: "Google." Again, you had to be there, yada yada yada, but when I think of that exchange I still snort in laughter.
After we break up from playing together in Milwaukee, we communicate through Google Hang-Out. This is the first time since I started playing Trivia in January 1988 that I stayed up until midnight on Sunday to hear the Super Garuda. I was more than a bit punchy and kept typing "I'm getting my Super Garuda cherry popped tonight" describing myself as a "Super Garuda virgin" to the other three remaining team players who hung in with me until the end of the contest. When we left Milwaukee, I was entrusted with the note pad to continue writing down questions and answers. There was something ethereal about scribbling down parts of that final question and searching for the answer, scratching out wrong information and scribbling down more.
Eventually the WLFM streaming went silent. A video posted to The Great Midwest Trivia Contest Facebook page showed the Trivia Masters and on-campus teams congregated outside the station, light snow blowing haphazardly, frequently blurring the images. My final entry on our 2018 notepad reads as follows:
"End: 12:25AM Monday Jan 29, 2018"

Our 2018 team mascot: Mr. Pocket

It's a New Year Upon Us & There are Many Miracles & Struggles to Look Forward To

Welcome 2017!!! I anticipate some wonderful events, some challenging events, and some straight up shitty events coming this year. Which, I think is a fairly normal mix of expectations.
On December 23, 2016 Mark received notification that he meets the qualifications for SSDI. Considering he hasn't worked and brought any income into our household since mid-January 2016, we were both happy to hear this news, which is an odd thing considering this was not in my Life Master Plan: marry a guy who ends up receiving SSDI as his primary source of income. He's applied for Medicaid but because my employer offers insurance benefits to spouses, we'll have to wait the 24 months until he's eligible for Medicare. Mark will be 57 years old when he's eligible to apply.

Since college graduation and moving to Milwaukee, I've always been able to take care of myself. Well, maybe I need to backtrack a bit because I was SO codependent on my first husband, that I typed up every resume and cover letter for him to find a job in Milwaukee which because of my hard work, he eventually did. I have to admit that the two months I spent alone in Milwaukee after I started working in February and my first husband's job didn't start until early April 1994, was glorious. For those that don't know, on the night before our wedding, 12-03-93, I cried as I was arranging the boughs and gold brocade ribbons that were the pew decorations. Yes, the wedding was beautiful and elegant and several of my relatives told me during the reception that they thought it was, "So sweet" that I sniffled through the entire ceremony; little did they know that those were tears and sniffles of regret because I knew I was making the first biggest mistake of  my life.

But that was 25 years go...ok, wait. I got married for the first time 25 frickin' years ago?!?!? That should be illegal!! I was 22 years old and no one should be allowed to make such life altering decisions at that age!

Ok, back on track to 2017: as most of you know I received a promotion to School Based Mental Health Coordinator in October 2015. So I've had this role for a bit over a year and I've met my "deliverables" to my Director. I've developed new forms and documents for this program in an attempt to meet the documentation needs of the program. I've promoted this particular model to any community group that was willing to listen to me, which were many more than I anticipated. I was featured in the USA Today-Gannet newspapers across the state, which totaled ten papers running the same story about the PATH school based  mental health counseling program, which included a rather flattering photo of me in the hallways of Appleton East High School.

I know there are miracles coming because I've heard "rumblings" about some additional funding we may receive. The struggles I anticipate are some "rumblings" I've heard about my program being moved into another line of service, which won't be horrible at all because I have a pretty good idea who my new manager would be and SHE KICKS ASS!!

Every year brings its challenges and peace-offerings. It's always nice when they are in equal amount.
At the end of January, I have Trivia Weekend to look forward to; my time to spend time with friends have known me for so long, I don't have to explain myself to them!!

TRIVIA 2017!!

It's a Cold and It's a Broken Hallelujah

It's been a hell of a week. If you've seen some of my Facebook posts from the week, you're aware that the husband of one of my best friends in the world died of cancer one week ago.
Mike was the kind of guy that slid right in to our circle of friends. Had he gone to high school with us, we totally would have hung out with him. He would've been one of "us", that's how closely he matched our general vibe, interests, music & "recreational activities". If I have to explain to you why recreational activities is in quotes, you didn't know us in high school. The "us" I refer to know who you are & anyone else from the 1989 class from Appleton West knows who comprised "us" as well.
I think I have a unique perspective on Jeanette & Mike's relationship, at least the budding beginning of it. She came out to Boston to visit me my senior year in college and reported that she was "interested" in this guy who worked with her mother (of all people) and they had gone on one or two dates by that time. Nothing serious, no expectations, but she was hot for him - girlfriends know these things about each other.
After she returned to Fond du Lac, she kept me updated on when they spent time together.
Then there was the week that went by when he didn't call her. She called me sobbing that he was "a thoughtless mother-fucker" and she was pissed off at herself for "thinking that it would work out." I had not laid eyes on Mike at this point and I was obviously totally loyal to my friend, so I concurred that he was indeed a "thoughtless mother-fucker" for stringing her along.
Then he called.
Then they had sex. Sorry Jeanette, but this is a crucial part of your history with Mike & this story. Her update about the sex was, "Man, I think he was going through the stats of the National League" (baseball) because it wasn't over in under two minutes, as is a common phenomenon for men in their early 20's. We were women in our early 20's and had plenty of experience with "the two-minute magic" but Mike is, was, 13 years older than Jeanette. He had moves. He had experience. He knew how to turn the two-minute magic into the twenty to thirty minute magic, which is very appealing when you're in your early 20's.
They eventually married. Her "g-ma" hand-made her wedding gown. She was stunning and he was majestic. The look on his face said, "Oh yeah, she kicks ass and she's mine." And he was right. He surprised her with a horse drawn carriage ride at the end of the ceremony. One of her attendants was our friend Eric J who told me at Mike's funeral that when he was standing up at the altar during their wedding ceremony he thought he was going to pass out because everyone in the church was staring at the wedding party and this was the first wedding he'd stood up for.
I remember our friend Steve taking communion, which generally isn't a remarkable event except that he's Jewish and "just got wrapped up in the crowd" that was heading toward the altar.
This was way before digital cameras and every time I snapped a photo my camera made a hideous "rrr-rrr-rrr" sound as the film advanced and wrapped around the spokes. Our friend Robb was seated in the pew in front of me and eventually got fed up with the whirling of my camera so he turned around to me and said, "If you take one more picture and that camera makes one more sound, I'm going to snatch it out of your hands and NOT give it back to you." This explains why I have photos of the first half of their wedding ceremony but none of the second half.
One of my pictures from their wedding was on a photo display at Mike's funeral. It includes Mike, me, Kate and Carrie. That photo captures a glorious moment in all of our lives and includes some of my favorite people in the world. I'm truly honored that it was chosen to be displayed as a testament to Mike's life.
I also have the dubious honor of making the first toast at their wedding reception. I was drunk off my ass, rambled on completely aimlessly for several minutes, raised my glass of whatever liquor I was swilling in large quantities and weaved my way back to my seat. My father and my sister were in attendance and after I returned to my seat, my sister immediately walked me out of the reception hall, plunked me in the backseat of my car, gave me a can of Sprite and said, "Just pass out and be done with it." I stupidly said to her, "But they must have liked it (my toast) because they were applauding when I was done." Her response: "They were just being polite."
A few years later Jeanette told me that the hotel where most of the guests stayed (not me as my sister drove us both back to Appleton that night, which I have absolutely no memory of) complained because by the end of the night, there was a large portion of a cheese and sausage platter floating in the hotel pool. I love those kind of weddings.
By the time our 20th class reunion came, Mike had been diagnosed with cancer and had undergone his initial treatment at Beth Israel Hospital in Boston. He and Jeanette showed up at my parents' house as I had invited "all of us" to reunite there. We spent many a weekend night in my parents' basement engaging in all sorts of debauchery that I won't describe in detail here; if you were there, you know what I'm referring to. At one point Jeanette asked my mom where I was and my mom's response was, "She's downstairs with some of you kids." At Mike's funeral Jeanette's mom Elaine referred to us as "you kids" as well.  My dad's assessment of that reunion evening was, "there are still cars lined up and down Lynndale Drive, but the cars are newer and in much better condition." My friends actually brought beer and liquor to my parents' house instead of drinking what had belonged to my parents at the time.
Mike was a huge Packers fan and during their run up to Super Bowl 36, or whatever the number was when Brett Favre took us to the Super Bowl and we actually won, Eric, Mike & Jeanette, Hays and I would get together at one of our apartments and watch playoff games. I again brought my camera and have wonderful snapshots of those playoff weekends.
Throughout Mike's past six years of treatment, he was a fighter. He would absolutely go to work on the days he was feeling up to it; likely he went when he wasn't feeling up to it because that's how loyal and dedicated to commitment he was. As a result of witnessing Mike's treatment, Jeanette went to graduate school and got her Master's Degree in Nursing and has become a huge advocate for cancer patients, cancer research and the care cancer patients receive.
For those of us who knew and loved Mike, our lives were made richer and better for it. Rest in peace my friend. Tell Jack-Dog and Peanut that we all love and miss them and take good care of them as they will take good care of you.

Don't You Forget About Me

Recently I had the wonderful experience of spending the long Labor Day weekend with five wonderful women who have known me since I was approximately 13 years old – that’s about 27 years.

Of course there are people I’m friends with on Facebook that I knew in Junior High and high school, although my contact with the majority of them is pay-by-play updates during Packers games, which is great because there was no way on God’s green earth that most of us would have actually spoken to each other during junior high or high school, and the fact that we now comment on the 5/4 defense amazes me: it amazes me that I know what the hell a 5/4 defense is, but I do!

But this group of women that I spent Labor Day with (minus two who couldn’t make the trip and were sorely missed) have known me for so long, I often describe our friendship to others as: They don’t ask me why I am the way that I am. They were there when I was becoming who I am. Which to me, is a statement of unblemished loyalty, and if there’s one thing I am, it is loyal, often to a fault.

In early 2006 I had a “medical nightmare” (complications from a simple gallbladder removal that landed me in a local hospital for six weeks and included a pulmonary embolism, [a blood clot in my right lung], a buildup of fluid around my liver [I have no idea what the fancy-schmancy medical term for that is], a pleural effusion [fluid between my right lung and my chest wall] which required placement of a chest tube for five days.) When my surgeon pulled out the chest tube, his first words were, “Oh no.” Not something that I really wanted to hear. While pulling out the tube, he snapped the tip off and it was lodged somewhere in my back. An emergency CT scan pinpointed its location and I had surgery the next day with one of his colleagues (he had to be in Minneapolis for a conference, you see) to dig around in my back to retrieve it. Pre-op I asked the attending surgeon if he could put the tip in a bag so I could keep it. He flat out told me that that was an odd request. From my gurney in the OR, I flat out told him that it was odd that an experienced surgeon should make such an error. He shut up and I’ve got my chest tube tip in a biohazard bag in my underwear drawer, where most women generally keep anything of value.

Anyway, I’ve still got the card that came with a bouquet of flowers from these friends who have known me before I knew myself. It reads: Thinking of you. Get better soon! Love – followed by five names that I will not list to protect their privacy. The flowers were delivered to my parents’ house because I had to stay someplace that could provide 24/7 care, which left me with two options: my parents or a nursing home. I was 35 years old and could not envision myself at a frickin’ nursing home, so I chose to stay with my parents.

When the flowers arrived, I gently opened the tissue paper and located the card and read it out loud. My mother and I both started to cry. She because those whom she knew as kids still cared enough about her daughter to send flowers when I was gravely ill, and me because that simple gesture assured me that I had a history, that I had deep, strong roots, and that in a world of full of six and ½ million strangers, five people cared enough about me to send flowers and wish that I got well soon. It made me feel as important as the Queen of England, only much more sincerely loved.

So, on Labor Day weekend, we tossed cow chips (or bought tee shirts declaring that we were there to witness the tossing of said cow chips), ate German food we couldn’t pronounce, shared stories on the porch that got us yelled at by the neighbors (hell-raisers to the end, that’s got to be part of our motto!), and spent time eating our way around Capitol Square in Madison and visiting the only known feminist bookstore in the entire state of Wisconsin.

To commemorate this weekend (we were celebrating the fact that we had all turned 40 this year – oy!) some of us made cds with songs that reminded the cd creator of each of the weekend attendees. It seems somehow very personal to reveal the songs each of us chose for each other, so I will not list any song titles here.

After all, some things should remain between friends, shouldn’t they?

The Weekend That Was: Lawrence Trivia 2010

Refryed Pink Gus. Here's a little history on our team name for this year's Lawrence Trivia Weekend contest.
In 1988 our team name was Gus the Autistic Wonder Dog. I wasn't part of planning our team in 1988, but we had a lawn ornament with pipe-cleaner horns, painted white, as our mascot. I was invited late to this weekend and thought I was "just dropping by" with Jeanette. We wanted to bring a snack so we stopped at a gas station and bought a 5lb. bag of popcorn. "Tube o'popcorn" it has lovingly come to be known as. This is the Trivia Weekend I have blogged about previously in my posts about falling in love with my first boyfriend, Chuck. This is where we met.
In 1989 our team was called Fryed Pink Clams. This is partially because our friend, with the last name of Frye, hosted the affair again in her basement (it's great having friends with verbs as last names.) The "pink clam" portion of the name came from the title of one of the porn movies some of the guys brought over. Apparently there is a porn flick with the title "The Pink Clam." Eww, but a great Trivia name. So we became the Fryed Pink Clams.
My friends from high school and I seem to be celebrating our 20th class reunion all year, because we made a hybrid of those two names for this year's team. Hence, you end up with Refryed Pink Gus: 20th Anniversary Edition.
Hays, Jeff, and I spent a good portion of last week trying out different technologies so we could be in touch with each other over time and distance during the contest. We tried Skype, Google Group Chat, and me beam. In the end the Google Group Chat worked the best because there wasn't a lot of lag between posts, however we couldn't see each other. Skype only lets you have video with one person at a time, and me beam had horrible echos and feedback. Although we did use me beam during "on campus questions only" just to check in with each other and verify the physical meltdown that I seemed to be going through: Friday night I didn't sleep. I finally fell asleep at 4am Saturday morning and I had to be ready for class at 9am. I was up at 8am, so I got 3 or 4 hours of sleep Friday night. Needless to say, there was no shower happening before class, so I threw on pajama pants and a long sleeved t-shirt. One of my friends drove up from Milwaukee to play at our house, and she was at my house by the time I got home from class. So there was no time to shower then. Two other girl friends showed up so there was a houseful of four women and Mark all clacking away at computers, looking for answers, calling in answers, chatting with friends in New York, Minneapolis, and Milwaukee via Group Chat. When we all checked in on me beam during the on campus only questions, I looked the worse for wear by far than anyone else.
I loved the video check ins. I got to see my two friends from high school who started dating junior year and have been together ever since. They married and now have two young sons. We got to see the boys too which was great because they look like hybrids of their parents; I mean, technically all kids are, but with these two, it's almost freaky. Especially since I've known the parents since almost the age their oldest son is now which is even freakier.
I didn't play much on Sunday as I was sort of "trivia-ed out." I have a lot of homework this week and I wanted to get started on it. This is graduate school after all, not high school.
Although for those 12 or so hours when I was on line answering questions and looking up answers, laughing with friends, eating junk-food and highly caffeinated beverages, I kind of felt like a kid again, which makes all the sacrifice worth it in the end.
Enjoy.