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.

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