GFH3 Run #1,756; 11 June 2014

Archival photo courtesy of Radar

GFH3 Run #1,709; 31 July 2013

If you look to the right on your screen, and maybe scroll down a bit, you'll find a blog 'gadget' captioned "Labels."  Browse through that list of words and phrases, and you'll see the word "sunshine" stands out in great big letters, with the notation "(20)" beside it.  That is because twenty of these posts have included the label "sunshine," to indicate that that weather condition was an element of the hashes described in those twenty posts.  If you squint a bit, a few lines above sunshine, you'll see the word "rain," in tiny letters, with the notation "(4)".  If you had checked before Job Blow and Heats it UP's fabulous hash tonight, that notation would have been "(3)."  But it poured like the dickens, or something a lot wetter than the dickens, in Reston this evening.

Not at first, mind you.  As about forty of us gathered around the Blows's fish pond, where the Mufti was gregariously distributing anniversary t-shirts, the sky was maybe partly cloudy, or overcast if you're pessimistic.  The heat and humidity were doing their thing, and Job Blow was out in the driveway, making sure no one ran over the neighbor's mailbox.  Despite vigorous efforts by our Fearless Leader, a pair of New Balance lost-and-found shoes went unclaimed (Mufti!  Do not drop those in the fish pond!) and after a bit people slowly straggled out front for the brief.  I frankly remember nothing of JB's sapient comments, having been mildly concussed by an over-enthusiastic hasher gesticulating recklessly, but there may have been something about blue chalk and true trail being determined by at least four, not three, ons.

It's a RUNNING club!  Somebody RUN!

"On on!" someone eventually shouted, and a bit more straggling ensued.  Misled by an over-enthusiastic hasher misinterpreting marks recklessly, the pack headed up the street, then turned 'round and came back down, and into the woods trails through the kindly neighbor's yard.  Thank you, kindly neighbor.  Once everyone -- walkers, too -- had gotten well into those woods, the clouds moved in fast and thoroughly.  The walkers and a horde of shortcutters made it back to the house before the skies sundered, but the true trailers (all eight or so of them) got soaked to the bone.  Poor things.  And then no one tried out the new salt-water pool, which looks just gorgeous.  BC3 is putting together a party to sneak over there while JB and HIU are off on their next vacation.

The usual HIU generous feast was laid out on the kitchen buffet, with roast pork and three salads (the tortellini artichoke was my favorite, although the bean-corn-avocado was a very strong contender).  A wide variety of beer was available, as were Black Box and Ch. Ste. Michelle wines.  Dessert was ridiculous, and included super-fresh and juicy cantaloupe, many pastries and two flavors of ice cream.

Imitating the courtship ritual of the blue-footed booby (or double-breasted booby) is a great way to stretch out after a long, soggy run.  Photo is proof I did not hallucinate this, despite my brain injury earlier in the evening.

Mufti's roll was notable for the strength of the replies, except when he got to Zipperhead and Rrock Starr, who didn't make a peep.  Eventually someone realized they were still out on trail, in the dark and the wet, and a search party formed.  A whole bunch of people got cheers for their first runs -- a German, I think, and at least a couple of Americans -- and BC3 is getting awfully close to 500.  Then a huge gust of cheering burst out as our lost sheep returned to the fold, with tales of winding trails and invisible marks and very, very wet t-shirts.

My attempts at photographing the koi were dismal failures, but you can see much of the other stuff in the pictures here.

GFH3 Run #1,678; 5 Jan 2013

Job Blow and Put Away Wet got a big crowd for their Reston hash at Job Blow and Heats it UP's house.  The weather was reasonably clement, with more clouds than sun but a reasonable temperature for January, you know?  Chilly, maybe, but not outright cold.  There were over 40 of us, and everyone got treated unusually well -- except Air Horn and friends, whom Flowerkraut blocked into the driveway.  Honestly.  In addition to the people, I counted Abby, Kylie, Peanut and Kellogg, whom we haven't seen for a while.

Hashing is family-friendly!

Anyway, after convening in the back and side yards whilst Heats it UP prepared a feast indoors, the runners headed away through what looked like the next-door neighbors' back yard.  Nice neighbors.  The one at the end of the cul-de-sac, who lets us use the driveway for entrance and egress to and from the woods trail, is nice, too.  And the one who took a photo but no action against whoever parked in front of his mailbox is likewise kind and generous.  Please don't park in front of people's mailboxes, everyone -- Job Blow's got knocked down at an earlier, non-hash party, and the street is sensitive.

So, while the walkers headed down the kind neighbors' driveway and strolled the woods paths, the runners wended their ways to Put Away Wet's, where they found -- a GLUGWEIN STOP!  Wow.  Meanwhile, I was tippy-toeing through the mud with INDY's camera, yearning for a warm drink.  Anyway, boringly enough, Cums Too Fast finished too fast, though with Blow in the Hole not that far behind him, and well ahead of the rest of the pack, who spent about 90 minutes covering five or six miles.  Incidentally, CTF, any chance you might someday mark a damn check?  Brent, for reasons of his own, was carrying a plastic-foam tomahawk.  Chip Off the Old Dick spent a long time ignoring a hare's arrow to look up and down Soapstone, suspecting an A-to-B trail that did not materialize.

Blow in the Hole, earning her superhero t-shirt.

There were a lot of Restoners out in the woods with their dogs on this relatively nice day, and one of them was accompanied by his brother, visiting from the Wild West (Warrenton & vicinity), where he runs with the Hillbilly Hash.  The hasher is called Thang, or perhaps Richard.  He and brother and the lab and the Pekingese stopped by the On In briefly and chatted with Spurt and others who occasionally join HBH3, and some who don't.  We may see Richard again, as he's planning a move eastwards.

Speaking of that On In:  many types of pasta with different sauces, tasty garlic toast and salad, the remains of the glugwein, and get this:  hot chocolate sauce to top pound cake and fresh fruit.  Unusually good, right?  (There was also a pale sauce that might have been creme anglaise.  I forgot to try it.  Anyone know?)  The house is ideally configured for chasing a six-year old around, which I am always happy to do.  In a few years, I hope to perform the same service for Riley.

He takes a lot of chasing.

And unusual excitement when the Mufti called the roll.  BC3, who rarely even answers, "Here," not only had to admit to being present but also had to come forward -- to be congratulated on 11 years of wedded bliss and presented with an anniversary bouquet.  To appropriate cheers, she bestowed a kiss upon our Mufti, as do we all, metaphorically at least.  Heats it UP reluctantly emerged from the kitchen to accept raucous acclaim from the throng, and Job Blow and Put Away Wet got several cheers as well.  Moaner Lisa is at 958 or thereabouts...

Hip, hip, ON ON!!

No first-timers, but Riley and Mike each hit two.  And further, I made 221 (300 cannot come soon enough), Brent was at 32, and Lust in Space was maybe 332?  I vow to appear next week.  Whooo.  Lezlie, Flowerkraut and others are putting together a Rocky Horror Picture Show outing -- maybe one of the organizers will add details in the comments section.  Phoenix Rising demonstrated a few peri-something stretches.  Anything else?  Put it in the comments, please.  Oh, and be thinking about a name for Joyce, and a new name for Cums Too Fast.

More photos, should you wish to peruse the evidence, are available here.