Sport - Bouquet Catching; Hunt,Gather - Bouquets

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

My record is 8-3, what's yours?

Tapped: The Gazelle, this was my 5th Career Catch


The reaction after I have caught my 8th bouquet (out of 11)? 

Person who isn't me:  "Congratulations, Margaret!  I guess you will be getting engaged soon." 

My response:  "Oh, this is my eighth." 

Person who isn't me:  "What?"

Me:  "Oh, this is a new sport I created."

Person who isn't me:  "What?"

Me:  "'s fun to make bouquet catching a sport.  Everyone is emotional.  Why shouldn't they be.  Some are thinking:  if I catch this, this could be my big break, and I could meet the man of my dreams after I catch this mangled, once beautiful grouping of flowers.  So, I just flip my shoes off, get in that short-stop ready pose, and come out of no where.  Oh, shoot, did I just give up my strategy?"

Person who isn't me:  "What?"

Sit down.  This is Bouquet Catching in a nut shell.  (And, a sport that ages you sister who is married is still sad she can't participate - in your face marries ladies!!)!

So besides being the Bald Head Island Hermit, I am also a rabid bouquet catcher.   Being somewhat of an athlete, playing multiple sports growing up, and running races here and there, I must say, I haven't quite enjoyed a sport so much since I wore my lucky heart necklace playing t-ball.   It is exciting! 

This past weekend, I had the honor of being a guest at a wedding on Ocracoke Island: an island, surprisingly, I had never visited before.  And, believe me, I will be back...maybe tomorrow.  Not only did I find 2 Scotch Bonnets (my first ever!); I caught the bouquet.  (Or under-handling stole it from some lovely ladies who have no idea about, or how to play this emerging sport.)
Here's the play by play:  I'm off to the side in a fun conversation.  The bride gets on stage.  In my head my brain is thinking:  Wait.  That's the bride.  That's a grouping of flowers with a silk ribbon around it....that's when it hit me.  The heart pound, the awareness of everything around me is recognized, my shoes are all of sudden off, and I'm on the edge of the dance floor.  The maid of honor is obviously the target; amateur!  So, I sit on the back of my hammy's with short breath, waiting not so patiently - or patiently, I don't know what patient means.  The bouquet's in the air; it's not in the air.  Why?  Because it's in my hands.  The maid of honor got a  rose.  I got like 20, and a couple Hydrangeas and 3 tulips, maybe some green other stem stuff.  I take a picture with her to make her feel better.

Where did that bouquet athlete come from?

Frequent experience.

Y'all got a flower each.

I have the bouquet.  I have a man.  I love my man.  I may love my new bouquet more than I love my man.  I don't catch the bouquet for a wedding.  I catch it because now I am EIGHT for ELEVEN, and I can be 99% sure that I have the BEST record for bouquet catching in the world.  That makes me a world record holder.  And, even though I was presented as a debutante in 1996 and I'm 35, which makes me officially on the market for 17 years without a bite, I will probably be the world record holder forever.  Because, let's face it, I have another wedding next weekend.  And, no one will catch that bouquet but me.  Not because I want to get married, but I've got to get 10 catches before I do! 

Don't threaten me.  It makes me better.  in. your. face.


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