GFH3 Run #1,791; 17 January 2015

Several people commented that this year's Boom Boom Birthday Hash was not nearly as unpleasantly cold as it has been since the tradition began back in 2011, when she was just 99 years young.  Temps being well above freezing, Big Balls on Deck had to include the warning, in his brief, that some of the mud was thawed, and therefore treacherous in different ways than in the still-frozen sections.  He also had to warn about watching out for arrows, in order to ensure avoidance of un-permissioned private property, and offered a special graffiti treat!

While 14 walkers hung back for special instructions, 30 runners got themselves down the hill to the first check, and a whole bunch of them checked to the right while the rest hung around waiting.  Eventually, everyone charged off to the left and found their first arrow, pointing them downhill.  Was it Cock in the Crease who complained that starting with a downhill just meant he'd have to climb back up later in the run?  Reassurances that this was an all-downhill trail did not seem to help.

Away we go.

Then there was some confusion in the middle of the trail.  Remember the graffiti treat?  Phoenix Rising, working backwards and early, found it before the others, and found a law enforcement officer on the site.  The L.E.O. informed him he was trespassing, and after a bit of reasoned discourse, with PhR making some salient points, the L.E.O. offered to write PhR a citation.  They both agreed that would not be nearly as much fun as finding a different trail -- which PhR did, eventually bumping up against the main pack and recommending a judicious detour.  So Sean and Not-Jennifer (sorry!) were the only two to run the true trail, as they'd gotten far enough behind not to witness the hash careering off onto false trail, and the L.E.O. was gone by the time they arrived at graffiti central.  Nipple Knocker has promised a photo of the graffiti (he helped BBoD and Paddle My Candee Ass to set).  When he sends it, I'll post it.

No known explanation for any of this.

So eventually everyone made it back to the On In, where Norm was grilling bratwurst, PMCA had finished making gravy, and Jill had filled every horizontal surface in the house with food.  We're talkin' pork, we're talkin' chicken, we are talking about several potato salads and a crock pot full of mulled wine and cheesy casserole and scalloped potatoes and something like chili.  We are talking, ladies and gentlemen, about enough food to feed 90, and sufficient beverages for 150.  (In addition to the 48 hashers, there were about 10-15 friends and family, so while doggy bags were available, there were significant inroads made.)  At last report, no one had attempted the bottle of Wisconsin cranberry wine.

The Associate Mufti, or Mufti Pro-Tem, played his M.C. role to the hilt, lauding Jill and her myriad helpers for the feast, and demanding an on-key rendition of the happy birthday song.  He may actually have blown a kiss to the birthday girl, who looked spry and happy despite all the shouting strangers banging about around her.  "I hope they're not drunk," she acknowledged at one point, but expressed delight at seeing, and hearing, the young folk enjoying themselves.

Here's to 103 more!

And enjoy themselves they did, as shown here.  Thanks to PMCA for additional photos.

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 102^nd birthday, and the Hash’s 1,735^th 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.

GFH3 Run #1,680; 19 Jan 2013

Happy Birthday, Irene/Mimi/Boom-Boom!

Blue skies and sunshine smiled on Oakton in celebration of Irene's 101st birthday.  You read that right:  101 years old.  Cockpit Ejeculator and Paddle My Candee Ass somehow felt that a hash was the best way to celebrate Grandmother's big day, but didn't want to haul everyone out to Warrenton, so Jill and Norm kindly threw open their doors for about 40 of us.  The runners spent 70 or 80 minutes traversing five miles of Oakton's woodsy trails, and our clever hares threw in a few checks toward the end that brought a strung-out pack back together again, with the FRBs cheerfully pounding back down a nice bit of hill on Miller Heights.  Back into the woods, runners!  And along the streambed of Difficult Run...  I sincerely believe that Spurt tried to check a map on some sort of E.D. (electronic device, for heaven's sake).  There are no rules, but there is such a thing as using your own wit, surely.

The walkers meandered the trails for a bit less than an hour, enjoying gorgeous weather and charming conversation.  So not a lot new there, bar Drill Me Fill Me's handsome white cap.

Everyone made it safely across the run, thankful for the vigilance of fellow hashers.

Back at the house, there was a Festgelage of bratwurst, roasted meats of many kinds, sauerkraut, potato salads, varied mustards and more, more, more.  There are some distinct advantages to having your hash crash a birthday party.  Plenty of beer (St. Pauli Girl, etc.), the ever-popular Black Box wine, a great pot of glugwein of some type, and bottle on bottle of German wine helped wash it all down.  There were also platters of cookies, which was just silly given two gigantic birthday cakes.  However.

Our Mufti having fled to tropical climes with BC3 to celebrate their anniversary (hey!  they celebrated that two weeks ago.  There were flowers, cheers and a kiss.  What is this vacation nonsense?), the Associate Mufti presided with vigor and flair over the roll.  He noted a special occasion with Chugger's birthday, which Chugger claims is his 69th.  One takes leave to doubt.  The hash graciously put forth their usual lousy effort in the traditional birthday chorale, and cheered the subsequent speech with vim.  Oral Advocate also took note of Hasher Flasher's 299th run and threatened the usual exec. comm. session.

Then we got to the good stuff.  With rare grace and elan, the Oral Advocate wished Irene a happy, happy 101st birthday and fourth hash run.  He further advocated for a reasonably in-tune and on-tempo rendition of Happy Birthday, and more or less got it.  The cakes came out, the candles blazed, the birthday girl accepted her cheers with a great string of carnations around her neck.  What a wonderful, charming and patient person.  Here's to 101 more.

The executive committee meeting was about par.  Oral Advocate made many comparisons to constitution-drafting and congressional-dealmaking; various elements debated raunchy vs. nice; the 'inspirations' and votes flew, and in the end I believe some kind of decision happened.  I don't know for sure, as I wandered off to chat with Irene instead.  Much more rewarding.  [UPDATE:  Hasher Flasher was renamed Pink Parts, but upon learning what those are, chose to become Bionic Babe instead.]

Executive Committee members must be hand-fed as they focus on their critical task.

Incidentally, Spurt carefully clipped a recent Washington Post Health & Science article headlined:  "Ancients toasted the dawn of civilization with beer bashes."  Having missed the word 'civilization,' he apparently believes this may be relevant in some wise to hashing.  You can decide for yourself by reading the piece here.

And if you'd like to see some photos of today's hash, try here.