Monday, January 27, 2014


Rick has moved to McLean, to be closer to his new job and his beloved Hash.  That means he's just four or five runs away from getting a nickname.  One can almost hear those Executive Committee brains humming, albeit very, very faintly.

So what do we know about Rick?  Seriously.  What?  Anything?  Anything?

- He's a grandpa.
- He's former military of some kind.
- He works for the National Wildlife Service.
- He lives in a town called Rescue.
- He's a birdwatcher, and there are all kinds of bird names, like 'Woodcock' that can be amusing from certain angles.
- Per his wife, he’s excellent at calling owls, and also at feeding hummingbirds.  Owls hoot, and hummingbirds like sugar.
- He's just started a new job that comes with an exciting, 3,000-mile commute to his home and wife, making him, essentially, bi-coastal.
- His wife is called Double Breasted Booby.
- On hash runs, he's often rather closer to the front of the pack than some people his age might be.  Remember when steroid abuse was called being ‘on the juice’?
- There may have been an incident back home in the high Sierra that involved the local fire department.
- He got married in California, about five years ago, with family and close friends attending, and then came back to Reston and invited the GFH3 and other east-coast friends to a Halloween party, complete with costumes, as a kind of follow-up wedding party.  Did he dress as Dracula, or maybe Frankenstein, with the DBB as bride thereof?

And a week or two after that, Lori will get her first nickname (pacifist, Air Force vet, Deadhead and drug counselor), and Mini Schlonga (Sri Longa, PLEASE!!) and Suck Squeeze Bang (no need to change; that name is perfect) are closing in on re-namings, and the Mufti is very, very close to his 1,500th run.  What?!?!!

Sunday, January 26, 2014

GFH3 Run #1,736; 25 January 2014

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow, and let it stop snowing before the hash, leaving a lovely, light, bright carpet of powder over the streets and woods of Great Falls for the runners and walkers to play in.  And if there’s a bit of ice and slush in the mix, so at least one hasher’s car goes a little further into the roadside ditch than desirable, and everyone has to run and walk in that funny shuffly slow motion skate-step thing to avoid sliding into a coccyx-threatening crash, well, isn’t that what hashing’s all about?  No?  Not technically?

Brambles!  That's what hashing's all about.

Well, for the 32 or 33 or maybe 34 folks who showed up in Great Falls today, sliding cars and shuffle-steps were a big part of the story.  The group gathered, carefully, under cold and cloudy skies, and were rewarded with a lot of road-running (and what a lot of people were driving, briskly, up and down Walker today!) and a few woodsy bits, including a really brambly, new stretch Easy Strider discovered behind a church.  No blood was spilled there or on the walkers’ trail; any strains or sprains inflicted when feet zigged whilst hips zagged could be appropriately treated with cold packs right there in the field.

The other big part of the story was Drill Me Fill Me’s generous hospitality before a roaring fire at the On In.  He went Greek on us today, with grilled chicken, spanikopita, hummous and more, and all of it quite tasty.  Speaking of grilled, someone grilled DMFM on what the spice was flavoring the spinach dish; “Is it cinnamon?”  (Pretty sure DMFM was not the one raiding the spice cupboard for this meal.)  Plus there was culturally-inappropriate but deeply delicious and warming hot apple cider, and cold hard cider for those who prefer it.  Incidentally, it seems to me that this hash does not go in for hard cider in a big way – a lot more Yuengling Black and Tan and various shades and varietals of wine vanished than did cans of Woodchuck.  There were also Valentine’s cookies, two of which Rocket enjoyed greatly.

Teaching the dog to bark for cookies is not what anything is about.
The Mufti having abandoned us for the dubious pleasures of California (southern California?  In the winter?!), the Associate Mufti demanded attention and requested volunteers for a spot of car-pushing, recommended The New Yorker’s current issue’s profile of Barack Obama, then called the roll.  Rick hit 95.  Flowerkraut achieved 701, and demanded to know why her 700th had passed with little fanfare.  Perhaps she will plan an over-the-top absolutely fabulous hash to celebrate it.  Perhaps not.  Christy showed up, years after her first hash, for her second.  Double Breasted Booby presumably did not get credit for showing up via laptop and Skype, but who knows?  There are no rules.

Phoning in from 3,000 miles away is not what hashing's about.

Quote of the hash:  “My boot’s off, but I’m swelling.”  For some reasons, many of the photos from today seem to show people eating.  That doesn’t always happen; I certainly don’t aim for it.

Sunday, January 19, 2014

GFH3 Run #1,735; 18 January 2014

Worth celebrating, yes?
Brisk, bright, breezy, to the point of being downright freezing, and nonetheless a near-record crowd of almost 50 hashers, plus a whole bunch of friends and family members, showed up in Oakton for Irene/Mimi/Boom Boom’s 102nd birthday, and the Hash’s 1,735th run.  This is the third or fourth year of this annual happy birthday tradition, and may it continue for decades to come.

Big Balls on Deck and Paddle My Candee Ass set a 4.7 mile true trail for Grandma’s big day, much of it on the inter-county connector trail that runs right along Jill and Norm’s back yard.  Handy!  BBoD warned the walkers that the dirt paths by the streams were pretty slick (clay/mud/something-not-quite-ice) and recommended the gravel paths in preference.  An officer and a gentleman, he’d marked the quarter-miles on one path so walkers could choose a distance for an out-and-back walk.  Handy!  Hardly anyone complained much about the cold, and the farthest I heard anyone mention running was a bit over six miles.  That said, the pack did get awfully strung out, with Mini Schlonga and Jeffy Lube finishing way, way before Chip Off the Old Dick, Phoenix Rising and Don.

Study the form, future FRB-ers.

There was relatively little trail-talk at the On In, where folks were busy stuffing themselves with the traditional Mimi family German buffet of wursts, sauerkraut, potatoes in many styles and more, all washed down with glugwein, other weins, Double D Double IPA (Air Horn’s pick), bourbon and more.  Then there were all the little Germanic bon-bons (gut guts?) for people unable to wait for cake.

Cake, however, had to wait for Mufti, and he had the long roll to get through.  Flowerkraut celebrated her own anniversary of 700 runs (“Get a life,” the Mufti advised, from the vantage point of 1,492 runs) and did a bit of caroling in her native German, waving a sausage jauntily.  Rick returned to us from the west coast in time to hit 94 runs or thereabouts.  In his eagerness to reach 100, he has recently taken a job in the DC area, accepting a 3,000-mile commuter marriage as the price one pays to make a GFH3 nickname possible.

This 'man' has a nickname, and who wouldn't want to be like him?
And then... and THEN... BBoD slid the big ol’ cake in front of Mimi, with the ‘102’ candles blazing, and the Hash chorale rendered a passable version of ‘Happy Birthday.’  (“Sing it nicely,” the Oral Advocate roared as the cake settled into position.)  Mimi blew out her candles, and everyone cheered and cheered.  The Mufti presented her with a Hash nickname, Boom Boom (that’s her nickname already!  And she’ll tell you you’re naughty if you call her that.  Must get backstory.), and a Mufti Appreciation Day GFH3 t-shirt (“Don’t wear it in public,” the Oral Advocate muttered).  More cheering.  Hip hip on ons.  Etc.  And CAKE!
What to get for the woman who has everything, including
great grandchildren and 102 birthdays?
A portrait of yourself, on technical fiber, of course!

Questions remain, of course.  Who said, “Get your hands off me,” to her beloved, and why?  When will Suck Squeeze Bang run again?  How slow will she be by then?  Why was Flowerkraut groping at Jeffy Lube’s chest?  Who were all those Bavarians, jaunty red feathers in their jaunty green caps?  And the lovely young ladies with blonde braids?  Why was this cake not soaked in hooch, like the amaretto one BBoD brought for PMCA’s birthday in December?  Who puts out a bottle of bourbon at a Hash?  What are we going to name Rick, and then Lori, and SSB, who is rapidly approaching 300 though never rapidly enough for her?

Feel free to look over the photos whilst pondering these mysteries.  Thanks to Mini S. and SSB for camera work.

We all love you, Mimi.  Thanks for putting up with us.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

GFH3 Run #1,734; 11 January 2014

Once again, full credit to Multiple Lustings for her hash heroics in creating that Facebook page.  Here’s the back story:  one week ago, at hash hero Blow in the Hole’s, the Mufti called for a hero for this week.  Cocked & Loaded phoned home, where Queen Cobra said, “Sure.  Why not?” so he volunteered.  And then fate, as it sometimes does, answered QC’s rhetorical question with a massive dose of influenza, which laid both hosts out with fevers, severe congestion, hacking coughs and body aches that lasted days and days.  So they took to Facebook and the phones to solicit help with laying trail, and got Chip Off the Old Dick to scout and set, with Jeffy Lube and Blow in the Hole assisting.  So all QC and C&L needed to do, after autoclaving themselves thoroughly, was to shop, cook and set up for an uncertain number of guests in the low double digits (IQs, heh heh) and clean up after them.

The weather added to the excitement by warming up and starting to drizzle, then pour, then sprinkle, then drive steadily.  So most of the ice melted, and the rich Virginia clay turned super-slick, and the dead leaves carpeting Scott’s Run turned to ten million miniature slip-n-slides.  Nonetheless, all the hares arrived on time, and two returned early, after BitH slipped on one of the more treacherous ice floes and conked her noggin.  She got platinum treatment from our hosts, including a sneak-preview brownie, whilst JL, bearing brownies, returned to the woods and COtOD to complete the set.

Eventually a crowd of about 23 assembled in the cool drizzle to learn from COtOD that, “The trail may lack something in distance, but it makes up for that with really, really, really awful footing.”  To the many shouts and imprecations that hashers watch their footing, Oral Advocate responded, “One time I was watching my footing and I slammed into a tree.”  Moderation in all things, my friends – but do watch that footing.

And handing, since the hares, re-christened billy goats for today’s run, chose some nicely steep slopes that required traversing on all fours.  Runners got all kinds of creative with their methods for making it down hills, including essentially and un-deliberately just sliding on their hindquarters or flanks.  Lori pointed out that she’d fallen twice, once on her left hip, and then on her right hip to keep things symmetrical.  Mini Schlonga showed off long and deep mud stains from waist to ankle when he finally returned to the On In.

Shelter from the storm
The return was seriously staggered.  The walkers split into three groups (partially paved, all woods, and where did BC3 go?), and got back at intervals; the runners split into more.  The first three heard, “This is where BitH fell,” and turned around and headed straight back, meeting walkers on the way.  The rest returned in ones and twos and threes, ending with Paula and COtOD, arriving at 5:30, having enjoyed a lovely sunset low on the horizon, under the rain clouds.

And what an On In we enjoyed!  Beefy chili and meatless chili with macaroni and toppings, plus garlic toast and salad and brownies, and wine and beers and soders and everything, and luxurious seating in the downstairs hashing suite, where our hosts had laid out piles of clean towels and a stack of plastic bags in case you wanted something in which to take home your wet things.  The generosity was ludicrous, but ever so welcome for our damp, chilly, muddy hashers.

Chili:  perfect for a chilly day.
Mufti’s roll included commemoration of the Oral Advocate’s 21st anniversary – that’s right, it was the 11th of January in 1991 when OA first yielded to Big Wheel’s invitation to join the GFH3 on one of its little woodsy jogs.  He’s averaged 40x/year ever since.  Flowerkraut hit 699, and will turn 700 next week, as we celebrate Boom Boom’s 102nd real birthday.  See you then; or in the pictures.  Thanks to Greg for his snaps of the Potomac in the rain.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

GFH3 Run #1,733; 4 January 2014

Big kudos to hash hero Multiple Lustings for today's hash.  That's right, she set up the Facebook page that enabled Jeffy Lube to volunteer to set if someone would provide a venue.  And then Blow in the Hole offered her Herndon home as a venue, "if people won't complain about eating pizza."  Furrow your brow, please, and try to remember the last time anyone complained about eating pizza at a hash hero's home.  And then Bite Me made a few mildly sarcastic comments, and Tasty Cakes volunteered to help set, Alex said he'd come and Brent said he might, and David offered to help set, and JL loves someone, and Lori offered leftover cups and utensils, and JL requested e (ecstasy?) and shots, and BitH asked the hares to park on the street.

Gosh, that Facebook is sure useful.

So that's how we got our hash heroes for this week.  Note that they knew about the weather, and heroed it up anyway.  Generous souls, since the icy, slushy, melting, snowy mess underfoot was not an entertaining blend for either runners or walkers, human or canine.  Still, it wasn't freezing cold, and the sun was shining as 31 of us gathered to hash heroically.  The walkers slid along partially-shoveled sidewalks; the runners risked everything over mostly pavement but a few water crossings with snow-capped stepping stones.  Several opted for a podiatric dunking instead, and dealt with the chilly sock issue in various ways, none of which warrant discussion here.
It is absolutely not necessary to be crazy to be a hash hero
but a degree of comfort with inclement
weather indubitably helps.

Back at the On In (did anyone do the jumping jacks or push-ups advocated by the trail marks?), Papa John had done his stuff to admirable effect, and there were also lots of snacks and a big salad, two Black Boxes and a whole lot of beer, chilled to perfection by sitting in the garage with the door open.  That thin-crust Papa J., by the way, is excellent.  Also there were cookies, so Spurt survived another day.

Mufti roll called, with nothing more dramatic than loud huzzahs and hip-hip ON ONs for the four heroes.  And then his butter-smooth recruiting efforts yielded results, as Cocked and Loaded stepped up with an offer to host next week.  Huzzah!

By the way, BitH still has her Christmas decorations up, and they are gorgeous, so that's a little extra festivity to see in the pictures posted here.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

GFH3 Run #1,732; 1 January 2014

As per, the GFH3’s bright, shiny new year started with a bang, and then got all muddy.  Paint in the Ass and Greg were reportedly hungover; the other 38 gathering for the hangover hash seemed not to be – though jury’s out on Tastycakes, who arrived wearing ‘last night’s make-up.’

Happy New Year!!
After a brief brief from the Shiny Sisters, Air Horn pulled the... fuse? trigger? string? on Rough Cut’s cannon to create a loud explosion, everyone leaped and yelped (well, I did, anyway), and then a few people started jogging slowly up the street.  Very, very gradually most of the rest joined them, running, jogging, walking – even broken-toed Norm, who made it about two houses down on his crutches and then turned back to the On In.  Speaking of busted body parts, when did the Mufti get that hip replaced?  Sometime in the late spring, wasn’t it?  And there he was, climbing over the fence into Frying Pan Park like he didn’t know there’s such a thing as a recalcitrant joint.  Blazing Straddle, aided by her cane, played Frisbee© with a chance-met sheltie named Duncan, and Suck Squeeze Bang rested up back at the On In, readying for the day she resumes kicking ass and taking names. 

Shiny and bright - don't know about new.

Getting at least a little bit muddy.

The walkers wandered the park, meeting few or no baby cows despite the sign out front, abundant sunshine and a brisk breeze.  The runners got a longish trail with wet bits and stepping stones and gentle undulations, and finally encouraging marks that read, “BN,” “Quiche Near,” “Mimosas Near,” and “Bloody Mary Near.”  And they were all true!  Back at the house, not only were the quiches, mimosas and bloody Marys (Maries?  bloodies Mary?) abundant, but also:  breakfast bread (Eat it Raw braided dough around sausage, cheese and other stuff, to loud popular acclaim), bagels, chips and dips, orange slices, coffee, cinnamon rolls and cookies.  Way to start the new year off right.


Drinks!  And more food!

Mufti roll-called; Gale hit double 5s, Moaner got to 965 or 966 or 967, Raphael made #1.  We hope to see him again, but he lives in Lorton...  Mufti himself is at 1,489, and advised Moaner to ‘get a life.’  Hmmm.  Mufti paid gracious tribute to our swell hosts and their helpers, leading the crowd in a vigorous and well-deserved round of ‘hip hip, ON ONs.’  Nobody sang “Auld Lang Syne.”

We need a host for Saturday!  And the following Saturday!  Perhaps one of the folks pictured in the photos here will volunteer.  (The baby cow munching grass at FP Park as the hash adjourned will not.)  Mufti reports that BC3 has been scouting trail a bit, but should they really have to host once a month?