Too bad, because clearly some sort of mojo is working for this group. The clouds gathered tonight, the forecasters warned, the wind picked up and Ole Fud saw a drop of rain. Yet somehow, that drop's fellow drops did not drop, and Lezley was able to keep everyone mostly out on the back deck, and everyone who risked taking electronic gadgets out on the trail brought those gadgets back dry and functioning. So let's see if we can't keep this thing going after all...
Having gathered in a Herndon driveway to accept their cucumbers (fresh picked in Easy Strider's garden), commiserate with Oral Advocate over his busted wing (Blazing Straddle: "Don't fall off bicycles!", apparently advocating for falling off subway platforms, roofs (Lori: "No, Ole Fud has rights on that one.") or fancy raised kitchen/sunken living room floor/curb thingies), and twirl about in skorts (FIVE hashers wore athletic skorts tonight, following the lead Multiple Lustings, that fashion pioneer, set two or three years ago), the hashers enjoyed a brief brief under threat of ankle-breaking if they didn't stop talking. Spurt threatened worse if they didn't mark checks, but apparently a few of them didn't hear that part. Oops. And then they got going, in fits and starts, to cross OVER the Fairfax County Parkway, circle around a few times, cross UNDER Wiehle, jog over a basketball court, cut a corner of a neighbor's lawn and head for home.
Happy! Because they know B is N even though, having short-cutted, they did not see the "BN" mark. |
The walkers (about 15 of 35 were walkers tonight, and five of 35 were hosts, hares or helpers; Valiant, paraphrasing Our Founder: "This is becoming a serious walking club.") crossed under Wiehle a couple of times, making their own circles and carrying their pups across the streams or letting them wade, according to personal preference, dog size and color, and carpet cleanliness standards.
Damp and delightful, back at the On In the crowd tucked into burgers, brats and dogs, slaw and spud salad, chips and stuff. Don wielded the grill tongs as soon as he got back from compassionate leave/emergency airport pick-up run. For dessert, there was Lori's birthday cake. Mufti celebrated Bite Me's 901st and Paint in the Ass's 399th (PitA: "I'm keeping my name.") during a fairly sedate roll call. Mufti, did you note Austin's #4?
Listening to a GFH3 rendition of "Happy Birthday" is a heavy price to pay for a single slice of cake. |
While you're checking out pages, feel free to roll an eyeball over the photos. The three young ruffians in the final photo are a Nashville-based band and airport-rescue-requirers, in case you were wondering.
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