Catching flying objects and the overuse of the adjective awesome

June is a blur. It's hurtling by in a blaze of awesomeness and it's taking a good bit of my energy and a freaking huge pile of laundry to get me to sit down and reflect on that for a moment. It's summer today. Officially. 100% Grade A scientist approved summer. Today. But summer never started June 21. Summer started when school ended. When school stopped ending, summer started when there was more sweating than not. That might explain why it feels like summer so often in my arm pits and between my toes. Vacation destinations one and all...

So. Summer. Hotness. My first big adventure was to Honfest. Honfest had more Beehive hair-dos and bouffants than I ever knew I wanted to see. "Welcome to Balmer, hon" said through the gum-chomping jaws of women of all ages will stick with me long after my new cat's eye sunglasses break. Thanks, hon.

From there I wound up at this shindig that never ended. It might still be going on right now. I've never been to a party where I wanted to talk to more people. Usually I want to talk to less. And when the talking got old, out came the singing. You may think you've heard "Crazy in love," but honey, you ain't heard nothing until you've heard me cruise through "oh no, oh no ohnono" and then proceed to screech out ear-piercing verses of numerous other popular songs in duet with other *ahem* awesome singers. Eleven years I've been practicing my falsetto at high volumes in the car. Karaoke revolution allows me to unleash it on the world.

I'm sorry, world, but awesome gifts need to be shared.

Summer also means the draft league for the local Ultimate league. It's meeting new people and remembering how much teammates help in the quest to be good at Ultimate. I've been touting the advantage of the expectation-less Ultimate game in this space, but there's a flip-side to that. It's being flat out ignored by people that don't think I'm open, don't know where I'm headed, and don't know that I can catch. The early summer breeds a hesitant brand of Ultimate. It also breeds over throws, and I'm looking to pick up as many of those as possible until we can find balance.

For lack of a better transition, balance not unlike the balance of man and wife. Or so I've heard.

Summer weddings are popular sport. There's something about mosquitoes that make people want to spend forever together. I hit up my first summer wedding last weekend. It required a bit of travel, but it was all kinds of fun. I like my trips like I like my rooms- multi-purpose. This trip was part road trip , part reunion, and part gooey wedding goodness. The road trip worked out well. It helped that I wasn't driving. In case I haven't said it before, if you can get your best friends to marry each other, you should go ahead and do that. If that means supporting same sex marriage, do it. If it means more drunken trips to Reno, get thee to Reno. Whatever it takes. Marry those two kids and make like a fairy tale.

The reunion portion of the weekend was no slouch either. Had you been theorizing that your awesome friends from college would grow up to be awesome people, you'd be right if your friends were my friends. If they happened to go out and get awesome boyfriends, well sit down at a table, watch your buddy get married to a very sweet woman and raise those empty glasses to the sky. Lest you think my only talents are frisbee and bad singing, let me quickly tell you about my dancing. That's right. It's awesome. I couldn't pull out the traditional moves (John Travolta's from "Saturday Night Fever"), but I took to partner dancing like a fish takes to a bicycle. Grab on because you're gonna follow!

I'm getting ahead of myself. I nearly forgot to tell you that while seven groomsmen primped and preened, ushers seated 220 guests. We're talking guests down the block. We, two ushers, that's right 2, seated guests, made announcements and still didn't get a seat at the head table. Ushers are second class citizens, only with better dance moves. At least in this case. They also apparently have better hands or at least that was the theory of the other Ultimate players in the room after I snatched (another) garter out of the air. I can't help it. It was flying. It was right there. I couldn't let it hit the ground. I took a step forward reached out at waist level and pocketed another promise about the future. The girl that snagged the bouquet was 4 foot 10. I let my 6 foot friend hear an earful on that one. Where's the fire? Maybe I'm using too much of it. In my four remaining weddings this year I'm looking to come away with at least one more garter, two if I get feisty. It's not like the last one worked anyway, that's why I was in this wedding. After that I'll be taking bids or at least suggestions for alternative garter uses.

Alternative garter uses. Band name or closing to this post? A little of neither. Awesome.