Hindsight is 20/20

It all started out innocently enough... there was Ovulator with a sheet of paper and a pen, searching for someone to take the August 2 hash date. I figured I should be able to keep people shaded and relatively cool in the 'Cliff so I went ahead and signed up.
I should have known.
When Beth drove me down to my house to get my car keys and deliver things for Wet Dry to use in her baking, the car said it was 108 degrees outside. The car, she said, has been very reliable.
I should have known.
The creek I wanted to use when I picked the start location is well marked on the google maps: both satellite and street level. And still, it goes in the exact opposite direction from my house which meant an over 5.5 mile trail on the hottest day of the year so far. I didn't think of this when I picked the start.
I should have known.
So before it was even 8 a.m. I loaded up car and gear to go and lay a shortened and very Sparkle Plenty safe trail. I decided that it would be an architectural tour of some of Oak Cliff's lesser known yet gorgeous neighborhoods. There would be one creek-crossing (a good place for dogs to drink), and as few Hispanic neighborhoods as possible. Still, those Hispanic neighborhoods connect the more Anglo streets and so, some through-hashing was required. Hispanics sweep their sidewalks. Even on hot Saturday afternoons. And I laid that trail, in its entirety, before noon. Some of my marks were swept up.
I should have known.
It was also so warm that two electrolyte tablets and 100 oz. of water were not enough to ward off hallucinations. That last arrow before the beer check was the last one I laid that morning. It was supposed to be a check and it must have looked just like a check when I laid it down. Nevertheless it was an arrow, pointing in the wrong direction. And my hounds actually followed it. Hounds smarter than me.
Who could have known.
Turns out, however, that the Dallas hounds have good noses and so quite a few of them actually found the beer check and stood around while I, with growing panic, realized that I had the route maps sitting on the front seat of my car. I dashed off to the start to place them 'neath the waiting windshield wipers and then dashed back to find that the missing half of the pack had not resurfaced. DAMN.
So off I sent them... directing them in the general direction of home, while I prayed that Hog, Sparkle and Bubble were not suffering heat stroke somewhere miles and miles from an English speaking Good Samaritan.
I should have known.
As I let myself into the back yard and opened the gate for the beer toaster to pull through, I called out "Are You" and found the "On On" response came directly from the cool tub. Right where they should have been.
I then tried hard to make sure that we honored Jock Doc's request to bring the cars back early and often... by making an immediate car run with he, Double Dribble and Hog. That meant leaving Cutter with Bubble, Rocky and Cody with Aunt Beth and my three monsters amid the chaos. As soon as I got back, Rocky and Cody were missing and the gate was open.
The two Goldens appeared immediately when their dad drove up in his truck.
That I should have known.
Next, I rigged a light for the circle up and continued to advertise the shower. Much beer was consumed before we even began drinking downdowns and I remember not a one of them, except that Hog did not want me to conserve my scarce Sorghum beers and the dogs kept getting into fights.
I do know that "lobster" disappeared before the circle started -- apparently not wanting to stay with my menagerie in the spare room. Swamp Pussy lost his sunglasses and had a near panic attack. Beer ended up in the spa. Tyler had enough of Cutter and acted like he was gonna kick his ass. The keg did not float during the circle and Bubble served the food.
I should have known to look for him in the kitchen.
Bubble cut up meat. He brought out the plates and napkins. He opened the containers. He even had a downdown or three ... even getting HoPaint's permission.
Not enough of the meat was eaten, but I guess that's OK. I sent some home with Just Ron and Clodhopper.
They, being men living alone, did not say know.
I should have known.
Sparkle Plenty played for a good while with Elliott the turtle. She even fed him smoked sausage.
FBS got too drunk to fuck.
Wet Spot organized a game of Tippy Cup -- or is that Flippy Cup. She's practicing for TXIH 2009.
There was a mess waiting for me when I got up.
The dogs ate too much crap and aren't feeling well.
The temperature is supposed to be even hotter today.
I have no desire to do anything.
And I can't wait to have the whole gang over here again for the winter version of the festivities.
It was a smokin' hot time.
I should have known.

Just Add Beer

So there I was, in the parking lot of Tom Thumb, trying desperately to decide whether to wank, and the crowd just kept cumming and cumming.
The event was the Bayou Bash Solstice Hash in honor of the longest day of the year, the rites of Summer and good food at the On In.
We milled around for hours (OK about 1 hour), uprooting trees, roots and flours... OK, just drinking a bit of beverage and waiting for the assembled to be "Reddi."
Finally, chalk talk wans we were off.
I decided against wanking.
Since the hare had promised us shiggy so deep we wouldn't be able to find our way out, we all carried lights. Seemed as though we weren't going to need them at all as we wound our way through a sad little Lewisville neighborhood and past the ceramic cats to the glorious entrance of a trash chute.
By now, all males of the hashing species having abandoned us, we the mighty harriettes hung together and waded through the effluent as we wound our way toward the beer. Immediately, tales of OTR-runs past sprang forth in conversation as we helped each other up and down embankments and picked our way past dirty diapers and the offal that is modern society.
At the tunnel, we packed together, spontaneously signing as we searched for the light.... For the life of me, I cannot remember the song... something about sunshine, but not on our shoulders... Jesus, don't come in my hair was able to recall last night after the circle.... but we've slept since then.
Back to the soul-sucking suburban neighborhoods of Lewisville for a while, where we harriettes picked up Lefty, Wedgie and Spazz,
We knew we were at the Beer Check when Hog was seen going backwards on trail with Cutter, looking for Pork Me Now, who was short cutting into the BC from behind. Well, he can't win... but we already knew that.
Anyway, we the harriettes of the back of the pack could not get drunk at the BC because we were OOB... that's out of beer. Having fallen and torn up my calf, I chose to ride to the second BC, which was miraculously close and where we arrived AFTER the pack.
FBS climbed a tree looking for beer. But alas, beer doesn't grow on trees. Silly Monkey.
This second BC was remarkably free of TRASH - until we got there, that is.
Still, it wasn't our final resting place, so off we went on the third half of our show. Minus a few hashers.
Those of us hashing smarter -- and/or wanking -- rushed back to the On In to get the good beer before the pack wandered in about 15 hours (er, 30 minutes) later.
It was dark and still and we were massive (Slut Slinger?) in number... so we could be heard frum miles around.
Apparently by cops.
Lefty was slightly off course at one point and got accosted by Lewisville's finest pork product. Having successfully thrown said copper off trail -- literally -- he wandered into the circle up while Wenis and I were off looking for him. He seems most upset by the fact that we were worried about him. But then, we'd been giving him a hard time for actually showing up, and he had a definite lack of beer in his blood.
What followed was a circle so lame I can't remember a single accusation. The porn reading was good, tho.
Spazz re-dressed a few harriettes. And then we walked back to the cars. Lefty happened to know the way.
The on after would have been fine, but the kitchen was closed.
Nacheaux served us her name-sake but by this time we needed grease to soak up the contents of the previously-floated keg.
This harriette left just after Midnight. In stolen shoes. Hot Toddy will have to name his price to get them back.
Hope everyone made it out of Lewisville without another pork-product run in. Hope Sparkle found her bag. Hope Macy gets left at another circle or two. I'd love to just snatch her and take her home with me. Hope Spazz makes his plane back to Guam. Hope Chihuahua didn't fall asleep in his beer. And I hope fun was had by all.
I'm off now to rub ointment into my chaffed inner thigh and plan the OTR schedule for the rest of 2008.

Harriettes ROCK.