Wednesday, July 30, 2014

GFH3 Run #1,764; 30 July 2014

The last A-to-B I can remember was run number 1,500, in November 2009, when the hounds had to traverse all of the five or six miles between I'm Not Dead Yet's and Queen Cobra's.  For tonight's run, Heater Beater and Rough Cut, after dragging 31 of us out to Leesburg on a weeknight, threatened a reeeeally long A-to-B trail, claimed they were hoping to win the Death March Award, and promised vehicular transport to get everyone back from the On In at B to their cars at A.  Funny thing was, it actually was a decent-length trail:  several GPSes hit five-and-a-half.

Leesburg on a gorgeous night.

But ha ha!  The B was actually only three blocks from the A!  So the 17 runners got a BIG circle around to the east and north of Leesburg proper, and through a cemetery somewhere along the way, and then plunged back into the quaintest little downtown in northern Virginia to jog east along Loudon Street and so to HB and Puss in Boot's new little cottage.  It's a fixer-upper; they plan to rehabilitate it and then rent it out to some lucky single, or couple, or very small family.

A drinking club with problems walking past a bar.

The walkers chose a variety of routes and distances, and found such distractions as a closed model-train store against whose windows a few hashers rubbed their noses, and a bar that temporarily distracted two of the entourage from their vigorous exercise.  Everyone made it to the On In eventually - the runners' pack actually keeping pretty well together - to enjoy a gloriously warm evening on the lawn, watching the sunset dim a pale cerulean sky to mauve, and gradually to black, lit by an improbably slender sliver of moon.  And scarfing down Peruvian chicken while they did so, washed back with Red Hook and Tecate and cabernet sauvignon according to preference.

Perfect party house

The excitement of getting rid of a pair of lost-and-found shoes and two shirts before the run began was not enough for the Mufti, so he welcomed Rrocks Starr back from South America (some geographically-challenged cynic demanded to know whether he'd been exposed to ebola), and made Chip Off the Old Dick unseat himself from his comfortable wall to stand in the middle of the crowd and accept great cheers for achieving 700 runs, and led a round of hip-hip-on-ons when hash heroine Blow in the Hole volunteered to host next week.  Cheers, of course, to the gracious hosts, their attempts at trickery easily forgiven.  When the weather's this great, everything's forgiven.  Photos here if you want them; thanks to Beef Strokemoff for taking a turn with the camera.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

GFH3 Run #1,763; 23 July 2014

Well!  This streak of folks who haven't hosted for a while stepping up to host is all to the good, as the Oral Advocate proved with a short run and a great dinner.  And even the threat of thunderstorms couldn't keep 25 of us from gathering under the pavilion, in the heat and humidity and a low, dense mass of gunmetal gray clouds, to enjoy all the heroic host had to offer.

First, he promised no poison ivy.  Next, he promised that short run, claiming to have heard complaints.  Finally, he sent the pack of 18 runners away, so he could nip back home and retrieve the turkey and beef he'd been smoking since 2:00pm.  Yowsa!

The pack zoomed away up the street, crossed the parkway to circle behind the pool, and took to the trails by the time (about 7:28pm) those clouds starting hurling rain and lightning upon the earth.  The much smaller walking contingent had almost made it back under cover by then, as they chose to keep the walking really brief - up the street to Mufti's to return Mango and her houseguest, Oscar, to the safety and comfort of roof and walls.  O.A. assured the only-slightly splattered walkers that the runners should be mostly under trees by now.  Relieved of that almost overwhelming worry, the walkers then felt free to talk about beer.

They didn't walk far enough to work up a sweat, so you know all the dark patches are rain.

The runners were all back by about 8:00pm, entirely cheerful and with about three miles, or a bit more, on the GPSes.  Happy as they were with the run, they were ecstatic at the sight of the carvery station O.A. had improvised, with its array of sandwich fixins and himself at the board, knives in hand.  The poor man thought he'd smoked enough meat for at least 30, and would be enjoying leftover beef for dinner for several days.  Not so much:  the hungry and appreciative hashers demolished pretty much every scrap of meat available.  People who had the turkey thought it so good they should try just a slice or two of beef, and vice versa, and eventually everyone stopped pretending and just said, "I'll have another sandwich, thanks!"  So O.A. moved on to slicing watermelon, and passed that around until the crowd was sated.  Looks like it's leftover chips and lettuce this week, dude.

Thanks for the photo, Ronda!

As the watermelon made the rounds, the Mufti began his roll call, alerting all to the presence of Just One More, who's been AWOL since sometime in the 90s.  (Well, it feels like that long.)  So tonight he showed up with a great contusion around the right eye, having wrestled a bicycle and lost earlier in the day.  Offered ten bonus runs if he knew his current run count, JOM guessed 262, and got a Bronx cheer and 235.  Katy, back after a respite of seven years, came thisclose to winning her bonus, but missed it by one, and hence moves forward to a respectable 14.  Justin and Ronda both had easy guesses, at #1; Matty earned #2, and the Mufti hit one thousand, five hundred fifteen -- the double 15s!

Rough Cut is closing in on 900, and celebrated by heroing up for next week.  That's right, we're off to Leesburg!  The boss will understand if you need to duck out early.  If you're interested in what we looked like this week, check here for photos.

Monday, July 21, 2014

GFH3 Run #1,762; 16 July 2014

Happy hashing!
Details garnered at long distance:

Lots of people (like, about 40) showed up to enjoy the fantastic trails of Scott's Run, perfect weather and a refreshing dip in the pool.  Hash hero Cocked and Loaded set an enjoyable run with plenty of woodsy bits.  Hash heroine Queen Cobra called in Papa John and made sure there was salad.  Beverages were varied and plentiful.  Life is good.

And no one wore this many clothes.
THIS JUST IN:  Photos from Radar!

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

GFH3 Run #1,761; 9 July 2014

Many of our newer hashers haven't had a chance to get to know the Jazz Swinger well, as she's been MIA (Missing in Artistic Activity, viz: busy singing schedule) a good bit for the last couple of years.  Presumably those folks now have some understanding of why she was once called 'Martha F-ing Stewart.'  Quite the hostess, isn't she?

The Jazz Swinger

And this is her Pearl Necklace face.

Her take on her hash:

"Dick Knoblauch was my hero for sure!  I was ever so grateful.

"It did go beautifully from all reports.  And the weather even cooperated!  Once the thunderstorm went through the temp continued to drop and it was all very pleasant--except for the ticks, briars and PI.  Hey, that's hashing.  Stop your whining, Joe.  No one got lost.

"We [re-]named [Suck Squeeze Bang, who is now] 'Puss in Boot.'"

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

GFH3 Run #1,760; 2 July 2014

Some people love the 'heat index' idea, some people mock it, but the heat index, early this evening, was 103 degrees, on an ambient temperature of 94 degrees Fahrenheit.  And the forecast included thunderstorm warnings through 8:00pm, and something like thunderstorm-certainties after that.  Yikes!  In typically unpredictable fashion, 27 hashers braved the swamp-like weather to gather in south Reston, where Chip Off the Old Dick had laid what may be his shortest trail ever, and he and Maria laid out their usual feast.

Mobile Water Stop One, on the move (and farther behind the pack than planned).

It is awfully entertaining when the hare says he has no idea how long true trail is, but COtOD clearly put some time in to planning and marking thoroughly.  That said, rain lays waste to the best of plans, so he encouraged everyone to take chalk during one of the most-interrupted hash briefs of all time, and sent the 18 runners on their way.  COtOD also mentioned that he'd expended thought and time on shortening the route he'd initially planned.  He had a couple of new spots (one actually lightly-used from three weeks ago, when thunderstorms scattered the pack in the midst of a lovely bit of park) he wanted to include, and managed to do so in less than four miles of true trail.  Multiple water stops helped ensure that the full pack was getting where it was supposed to go, and also proved that the marks had done their job in helping keep that pack together.  So everyone was back before dark, raving about the excellence of the trail and delighting in pizza, spareribs, several salads, too many kinds of beer to count, and lots and lots and lots of wine.  Plus chips.  And maybe cookies.

With Easy Strider providing lighting, Reston Association assuring plenty of tables and seats, and the ODs ensuring that no one in a quarter-mile radius would go hungry, dinner was a convivial affair.  The Mufti announced that there are plenty of hosting slots still available in July and August, and the Jazz Swinger mentioned that she'd sure love some help with setting trail from her place in Ashburn next week.

Rough Cut loves to find a false trail when the heat index is 103!

The Mufti further announced that, in the Year of the Chefs, the Chef of the Year was Heats it Up, and Blows and Goes had managed to stick around long enough to step forward and collect her award for her.  In additional post-Anniversary Hash business, he asked The Oral Advocate to accept a token of collective esteem (gourmet crackers and a Nationals pen shaped like a bat) for his ceaseless care of the Hash in his role as Associate Mufti.  Then he called roll, and we welcomed Other Sandra back from Mozambique, welcomed occasional newbies Ann and Kim, and celebrated Maria's double-ones, Rough Cut's triple-eights, and Nipples's triple-ones.  Oooooooooooooooooh.  Suck, Squeeze, Bang will never stop celebrating her 299th, and next time we see her she'll have the chance to persuade the Executive Committee to give her a new name -- maybe one she actually likes this time.

Almost home.

And it didn't rain.  Awesome.  All those damp-looking people in the photos are just -- you know -- glowing.  As one does in Virginia in the summer.