As per, the hash gathered in the early afternoon at a gracious Great Falls estate replete with swimming pool and spreading lawn. Packing Pink Heat and Pickled Peter's place also affords views of a swan pool, which is just the sort of elegant embellishment our group warrants. Before taking off through the woods to get sweaty, muddy and bloody, the group convened to have its photo taken, with absolutely everyone looking his or her very best in every shot. You probably realize how rare that is in a group picture. Thanks to Hand Job for the actual shooting.
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| Dahling, you look MAHvelous! (especially Mollie's tummy) |
Then it's away, down the hill, into the tall grass, under the trees, over the stream, up, down, over, under, around and back, in less than an hour (nice hares!), to leap the stream again, emerge from the trees, thresh the tall grass, and race back up the hill to where all the picnicking awaits, and several small children await various daddies who will take them in the pool (nice daddies!). The walkers kept mostly to the streets, enjoying the light drizzle from overcast skies that came as such a pleasant change after Friday and Saturday's clear skies, light humidity and perfect temps.
Here is a useful strategy for enjoying a Hash potluck: find Paddle My Candee Ass. Ask her what she brought. Go find those things and load your plate with them. Since not everyone could get corn on the cob (not after I'd been through it, heh heh), it's a good thing that To Bea or Not to Bea made nine pounds of southern-style barbecued spareribs. You know what would be a good thing for you to put in the comments? Your favorite dishes from the potluck. That would be a good thing for you to put in the comments. For instance, "There was some delicious mac and cheese with crunchy bits on top." Unless, of course, you got to the mac and cheese after I did, in which case you missed the crunchy-top-bits. Heh heh. Also, thanks to whoever brought the fizz and oj. Mimosas are just the thing for picnics.
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| Mimosas in the tub on the far right. |
Of course, the bestest most part of the anniversary run is the Mufti's annual awards ceremony. He makes up new ones every year, and the 2013 edition included mother-and-child whisks for Beef Strokemoff and Tasty Cakes' high culinary standards, a rubber chicken-like item for Greg and Lori's backchecks-only trail, a keep-off sign and super-soaker for Suck Squeeze Bang and Heater Beater to help cope with testy neighbors (don't tell them, but Phlashback and Zipperhead have the same awards waiting when they return from dads' day or graduation or whatever they're doing), a map for Land Ho and Cums Up Slowly to help them get home with a bit less effort next time, and Band-Aids(r) for all 17 (or however many) of our lucky crew came through injury, illness and other bodily damage in the last year. Then the usual suspects got their annual thanks (very high end chocolate bars, mostly) for things like Money Bitch-ing, Associate Mufti-ing, blogging (that's right, they pay me for this in candy), roll-call maintaining, t-shirt ordering and anniversary-hash hosting. Yay for everyone. In all the excitement, the Mufti forgot (this is the first time he's ever forgotten anything, isn't it?) to offer the Death March award to some misbegotten, undeserving fink. You know he'll get to it, though. Oh, yes -- he won't go without assigning the Death March appropriately.
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| Magic future boo-boo preventers for everyone! (A few more people could have gotten in on this award, btw.) |
On a more solemn note, the recently-widowed Mary joined us to accept a photo (thanks, Radar) of our founder and her husband, Last Call. Mary made a few kind remarks about the joy the hash had brought Last Call, and the psychiatrists' bills it had saved many of its members (from the peanut gallery: "All that money went to orthopedic surgeons instead."). Mufti also asked that we remember Alan Marlette, who died earlier this year.
Much less solemnly, Ole Fud stepped up to the non-existent mic to lead revised versions of popular folk tunes, including Mary Gurr and Gwen Dargis's version of "Camptown Races." Valiant recalled Last Call's attempts at live setting, which chronically ended in early capture of the hare, even when he deployed his two young sons to begin the "live" set early and get all those irritating false trails laid well before the hounds were loosed. One understands our founder had a stubborn streak, but eventually he gave up, and the pre-set trail became the GFH3 standard.
Ole Fud moved on to a munificent tribute to the man he plans to establish as Grand Mufti of Great Falls ("If elected, I shall not serve," the Mufti promised). The grateful multitude brought forward gifts of plenty: a portrait surrounded by expressions of affection and respect, a digital photo frame stuffed with 30 recent photos of hash activity (and less-recent ones when Duck Sucker gets a crack at Radar's .nef format), the Mufti Appreciation Book and a gift certificate for the Auberge, which Blazing Straddle believes will be sufficient to cover an enjoyable dinner for three, thank you very much. Finally, Bionic Babe unveiled the 31st Anniversary Shirt, with a wonderful illustration by her talented younger offspring. You do not want to go without one of these shirts. Contact Bionic Babe ASAP to order.
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| You, too, can have a handsome Mufti Appreciation Day t-shirt. |
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