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.
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