GFH3 Run #1,797; 28 February 2015

"Nipple Knocker had 7 1/2 miles.  [Bionic Babe and Nipples] laid a great trail and the pack stayed together pretty much the entire trail unto the turkey/eagle split near the end. Just Jeffy Lube, Chip Off the Old Dick, Air Horn, Blow for Dough & Nipple Knocker did the Eagle split.

"Oral Advocate  had a special announcement to acknowledge the awesome trail [COtOD] set last week.  [Maybe] five wankers showed up for the trail. Not only did he set trail but he also ran it again. OA went on to say that it was in his 23 yrs of hashing the best trail he had run. Further Mufti has given [COtOD] a new name by way of presenting him with a new head gear (first responder)  - forgot to take a pic of him sporting the new first responder safety helmet :)"

Thanks for the photos, Nipple Knocker!

GFH3 Run #1,796; 21 February 2015

"We had a great time Saturday!!!"

REMEMBER:  Ménage à Trois, after 20 years' service as GFH3 Webmaster, is very gradually moving out of state and looking for someone to take over gfh3.org for him.  He can teach you anything you need to know in about an hour, even if you have no web experience, and estimates that upkeep requires less than 30 minutes per week.  Please contact him if you can do it.  If you don't know how to contact him, contact me, the Oral Advocate or just ask around.  Someone will help you get in touch with him.

GFH3 Run #1,790; 10 January 2015

A favorite Hash hostess, Blow in the Hole hero'ed it up once again, with help from a cast of... several.  Consultation with Blazing Straddle and Jeffy Lube resulted in a useful trail map.  A quartet (BitH, JL, Zipperhead and Dances with Bulls; three on foot, one on wheels), well-bundled, colored the flour blue for better visibility on the leftover snow, and then scattered it about Herndon for 12 runners to follow.  Seven walkers made their own path, determined to visit the historic downtown, for bread or trains or maybe both.  That's four hares and 19 hounds; so how were there 30 people at the hash?

Pre layer-donning, the hares make sure they know where they're going -- more or less.

One speculates that perhaps not everyone felt like getting a bit of exercise in the great outdoors today.  How could that be?  Why would that be?  After all, the wind chill wasn't all that bad, and the sun was shining like billy-o, so temps in the high 20s actually felt more or less like high 20s, not something frighteningly lower.  Some people were outside in just three layers!

Blazing Straddle was inside, heating up the vegan and paleo chilis BitH had cooked up the day before; perfect lunch for a somewhat chilly day, after a five-mile run over occasionally icy ground.  The hash showed its appreciation by sucking up every gram of beef and most of the black-bean-and-sweet-potato.  Bubbles contributed cookies (and cleaned the downstairs bathroom, while BitH was cleaning every other inch of her home -- before the hash arrived!  Now that's some heroism.).

Note shining sun

Valiant handled the roll call as last week, and did it with a distinctive flair and a decent amount of group participation as he squinted at the tiny roll call print.  Trisha hit #2, and Jen Rough Cut got dug up from the C list, one hopes.  As one hopes they both come back soon.  You can see them in the photos, and introduce yourself next time.

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 700^th 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.

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 #1,728; 7 December 2013

Djamiss me?  I missed you, up until the moment I stepped out of the car in Leesburg this afternoon and thought, '[Expletive delete] it, it is [expletive deleting] cold.'  As the Mufti more eloquently phrased it, "This is the coldest forty degrees can get."  Something about the humidity, the light breeze and the overcast skies combined to make the day feel unseasonably chilly.

But that's not the important part!  What really matters is that 29 hashers took advantage of light traffic to tootle out to the historic village for another Rough Cut party.  RC set trail by himself, having forgotten to get back to any of the several volunteers for co-hare.  Arguably a pity, as somewhere around the fourth mile the pack got terminally confused and short cut their way back to the On In, except for Mini Schlonga, Paddle My Candee Ass and the soon-to-be-renamed (could never be soon enough for him) Cockpit Ejeculator.

Valiant took a few walkers, and one stroller (heh heh) to check out big trees, whilst Moaner and others chose to meander the quaint downtown streets, festively be-decked for the season.  No one stayed out too long, though -- you could sense the pizza from a mile away.  Rough Cut also provided his standard buffet of chips and trail mix, plus holiday-type cookies for dessert, augmenting Lezley's birthday cake.

Mufti's cheery roll call failed to count Mango, Piper and Nathan, but caught the Naughty Nurse and Gene Pool Zombie, demoted months ago to the B list.  Suck Squeeze Bang, desperate to reach 300 and a new name, showed up in a wheelchair; the Executive Committee celebrated Cockpit E's 199th with a meeting; and we finally got to meet Jen Rough Cut, who stopped coming years ago due to the 'wild' nature of our group.  That would be many years ago.  Many, many years ago.

Being otherwise occupied at the time, I failed to get a good photo of Jeffy Lube hitting me, but there are lots of other pictures here.

GFH3 Run #1,686; 2 March 2013

The hash met under appropriately somber skies in a cold breeze on the day of Alan Marlette's funeral.  We had a good turnout of 34 despite the weather, with two members already in their dress shoes in preparation for the service.  With BC3 and the Mufti, our putative hosts, indisposed, Oral Advocate, I'm Not Dead Yet and Mini-Schlonga set what Oral A. called "a perfect trail," and they kept it brief.  Starting at Reston's Lake Anne Plaza, the trail headed in a westerly direction, rather than around the lake, and brought the runners back to the plaza after about three miles and 40 minutes of mixed road, trail and grass with a bit of light shiggy in the mix.  The walkers, on Oral A's advice, had a quick walk sticking close to the plaza.

Hash Brief for a brief hash

I may be wrong, but I believe that Blow in the Hole and Lezley were the FRBs (I know they were at one point), since Manic Mechanic and Easy Strider were too busy trying to knock each other down hills to focus on running fast.  I shan't tell my Cockpit Ejeculator story because I'm nice, and it's not a great story.  Dave G. showed up really late and got lost but made it to the On-In just fine.  I saw my first snowdrops of pre-spring and took several photos in excitement.  I also saw a majestic hawk, which Ole Fud identified as a red-shoulder hawk, who was very suspicious of my clicking pix as he was guarding his catch, which seemed to be an unlucky squirrel.  The hawk kept trying to fly off, but maybe he had trouble lifting the squirrel, as he only went short distances.

Two newcomers joined us -- Kimberly and Peter have hashed, mostly overseas, enough that he's called Blue Tit in other lands.  However, we lost them somehow.  Oh, woe.  They seemed lovely.  Maybe they'll try again next week, when THE HASH IS AT 11:00 AM.  That's AM, not pm.  Morning.  Sorry for the people who hate early hashes, and you're welcome to people who prefer them.

The On-In that our first-timers missed (99.5 to the cup!) took place at Kalypso's, where beer was plentiful and the wine list extensive.   I was the only one to order flaming cheese, which seems astonishing.  How does one look at a menu that includes the appetizer saganaki, "seared Kasseri cheese flamed with brandy," and think, "I guess I'll have a burger."  Everyone gasped and a few applauded when the waiter set fire to supper.  Plus it's yummy.

A drinking club with problems running, heh heh.

I took the roll with the help of a piece of paper and pencil kindly sent over, via BC3, by an injured and ill Mufti.  So apparently I'm demoted from clipboard-ing, and back to scrap paper, pens scrounged from glove compartments and pencil stubs.

Several left early to visit with Alan's family; others rushed away to change for the service; those who hadn't known him well lingered.  The Kalypso's staff did a great job with our erratic group.  We forgot to vote on whether the Mufti should get credit for the run, because at least he offered to host, albeit at a restaurant, but I think he should.  After all, he tried.

The people, as well as the lovely snowdrops, majestic raptor and unfortunate small mammal, are all shown in the photos via this link.

GFH3 Run #1,682; 2 Feb 2013

Again with the Great Falls! -- thanks to Hash Heroes Phoenix Rising and Chip Off the Old Dick.  We convened, as per, in the garage, which this week featured the innards of an entire race car, raised up on a sturdy table.  "Where does the food go?" I very reasonably asked PhR, and he pointed to some rickety card tables set up for the occasion.  A select group gathered slowly, perhaps reluctant to get going given around-freezing temps and rather cloudy skies.  They would, no doubt, have been more eager and appreciative of the weather had they all been woken at 1:00am, badgered from their warm beds by a de-ranged boyfriend, and shoved into a small Honda for a four-hour drive to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, to stand around for two hours in a drunken, pot-smoking crowd in single-digit degrees Farenheit weather for the chance to listen, via an inadequate sound system, to a top-hatted someone on a distant stage say something about a woodchuck, and then drive four hours home again.  Love you, sweetie!  But I digress.

Big Wheel and Easy Strider dream of checkered-flag glory.

PhR helpfully explained a few techniques for discerning the differences between snow and flour as part of his hash brief.  Then the runners set out, at 3:15, into the landscaped woods path behind the house, while the walkers headed down the driveway to find their own bliss through the hilly local side streets.  I think there were about 12-15 runners, including sweeper COtOD, and about 8-10 walkers, including Gale and Melisande, who set their own out-and-back via the early part of the runners' trail.  I hopped into a truck with PhR, several bottles of water and a Gatorade, and a sack of pink flour to put the final flourishes on the trail markings.

PhR and COtOD benefit from a bridle path and a couple of helpful neighbors:  a yoga-teacher friend of Susan's who permitted use of her driveway, and the local who sold most of his land for development but retained several acres of perimeter for use by his ATVs and our hash group.  Gosh, do we love sensible and neighborly neighbors.

The pack kept itself together pretty well, with the help of a few strategically-placed backchecks, until near the end, when FRB and first-timer Al (and I, now descended from my truckly perch) got well and truly screwed up despite those 30 pounds of flour, and Easy Strider and Zipperhead caught up to us, and then The (not-very) Manic Mechanic came skipping down a hill, and then they all ran around in several directions whilst I continued my stroll until I encountered a backcheck five at the top of a hill.  After that, I don't know what the trail did as I rather 'zenned' myself to the On In very inefficiently, weeping silently.

T(n-v)MM missed a big pink 'X' (so did PhR and I, when we drove along to be sure it was still there -- caught it on the way back, though) and so ran up a small paved hill, then realized his error, leapt a fence, crossed a rough field, leapt another fence, and caught up with the FRBs within about half a mile, in time for a nice backcheck.

And what did I find back at the garage?  You know what - delicious, hot fried rice and sesame green beans and kung-pao-ish chicken and other yummy things.  Plus -- another half-dozen or so "hashers" who came for the social exercise and skipped all that pedestrian (ha ha) running and such, bringing the total group to about 30.  BC3 reported on an idyllic Caribbean vacation with books and warm ocean and not much else, as one needs nothing else.  A few of the kindlier folks speculated as to where Air Horn, Spurt and Chugger might be, they having gotten themselves well and truly separated from the group and even the sweeper.  They made it back in the middle of the roll call, to loud acclaim and threats of dire reprisals (i.e., no credit for the run) from the Mufti, sparkling with the vigor of a deservedly well-vacationed leader.  The Mufti requested a vote as to who would win the Super Bowl.  I just (typing this part Sunday evening) heard a commentator say that his heart was for the Ravens, but his head believed the 49ers would win, and the GF Hash counted eleven heads to nine hearts.  Those of you putting hands up for the 49ers will all go back to 99 runs the next time I get ahold of that official roll, and Oral Advocate can no doubt think up something worse.

And now it's Monday morning, and I have only this to say:  Neener, neener, neener, boo-boo!

Kiley snoozed amidst the chaos, Abby ate everything dropped on the ground, including a fortune-cookie wrapper (an alert Blazing Straddle actually prevented that last), two first-timers, Al and Judith, won their cheers, and Hasher Flasher celebrated her 300th by choosing (?!) 'Pink Parts' as her new name.  Still the First Lady having left by that time, Pink Parts had no one willing to explain the full implications of the phrase.  [UPDATE:  On learning what pink parts are in StFL's lexicon, PP changed her name to Bionic Babe.]  The party was only enhanced by PhR driving a couple of convertibles into the party space to get them out of the newly-falling snow.

Speaking of StFL, we were graced with the company of six of our 1,000-run runners, as the pictures prove.  Trivia question:  which 1,000-run hasher was missing?  Bonus points if you know which 30-plus-year hasher who hasn't hit 1,000 was missing.

INDY and I are vacationing next weekend.  Radar, if you take photos (or anyone else does), please e-mail them to me and I'll post them early next week.  Anyone who wants can e-mail me meeting commentary and I'll put that up here.  Enjoy the Valentine's Day hash, and do please wear red!

GFH3 Run #1,681; 26 Jan 2013

Thirty-four of us (including a host and three hares) got the time right and showed up at 11am in... drum roll, please... flourish of trumpets... make it a kettle drum... GREAT FALLS!  And while we didn't have the sense to start a pool on the number of people who will bang on the Ole Fud's door at 3pm, I'm going to guess three.  And what a hash they missed!  The eagles spent two hours in the not-very snowy woods trying to find pink flour that was melting away with the snow on which it had been dropped, and trying not to crack an ankle as they skidded over wet rocks, wet leaves, and well-packed slush.  But they had a nice bit of sunshine in which to do so, and above-freezing temps, albeit not by much.

The turkeys (and this group is mostly turkeys -- no further comment, please)  were out for over 90 minutes, and the walkers for an hour or more.  The walkers, incidentally, seemed to split up into about a half-dozen splinter groups, and when there are only about eight of you in the first place, that's quite an achievement.

The trail was set by Air Horn, Phoenix Rising and Zipperhead -- each working separately.  So you can understand a) why the trail was relatively lengthy, and b) why the hares weren't sure whether the turkey trail saved runners about a quarter mile or closer to two miles, or something more, less or in between.  Also why there was, perhaps, some sort of an incidente officiele whose details we'd sooner not know...  There was also a great deal of shortcutting, including by our FRB, Valiant.  The eagles you can probably guess, but if you want hints:  Suck, Squeeze, Something... the Not-calm Mechanic... Longa, Schlonga... Difficult Strider...

Valiant explains how, by skillfully not following the trail much at all, he was able to finish the run about 30 minutes before anyone else.

Back in the garage, we had hot soup and bread and cheese and chips and stuff.  You know the expression, "Hunger is the best seasoning"?  Well, it's not true.  Whatever Felicity used in the black-bean soup is the best seasoning.  And the promise of a tour of the trains-and-tracks wing of the Fud estate sharpens the appetite nicely, too.

I read the roll, given the absence of both the Mufti (romantically vacationing on a warm island) and the associate Mufti (undergoing an intensive cheering and smack-talking regimen in preparation for the Big Game).  I have crowned (be-fezzed?) myself the assistant associate Mufti on the spine-chillingly meaningful occasion of my being entrusted with the official roll for the first time ever.  Hip, hip.

Don't I look authoritative?

INDY helped out with the photos; here they are.

GFH3 Run #1,676; 29 Dec 2012

On the Day That Couldn't Make Up Its Mind, we got a little snow, a little slush, a bit of rain, some wind... and right about 3:00pm we got a clearing in the clouds that revealed beautiful blue skies luminous with golden sunshine.  Ah, lovely -- albeit freezing cold.

Despite the uncertainty in the skies, 25 of us made it to the Algonkian Parkway and Spurt's home, where he and Lezley had spent the early afternoon setting trail with flour, blue flour, chalk and an occasional squirt of spray paint in case everything else melted or washed away.  The Mufti reminded us that there will be a big ole party (plus some irritating exercise-y stuff) at Byte Me! and Eat It Raw's home at 11:00am on New Year's Day.  See you there!

Our heroic hares answer the eternal question, "Where's the second check?"

But first... Spurt pointed to a big floury circle on his driveway, and we're off... in three different directions... which eventually resolved themselves to the correct one.  The walkers wandered pathwards, well-bundled, while the runners slipped and skidded down the slick pavement.  Spurt and Lezley sent them on a compact circle that didn't take much time but required the resolution to slop through woods full of both obvious and carefully-camouflaged puddles and rivulets and minor ponds flooded with ice water.  So everyone made it back in less than an hour, but with sneakers full of slush and semi-frozen toes.

You can see how avoiding the water hazard might be a skosh tricky.

Good thing there was a big pot of turkey chili on the stovetop, waiting for hungry hashers to dish up and decorate with cheese and sour cream and corn bread and salad and vegetable lasagna.  Yum!  There was also good beer in cans -- if someone gets up the nerve to add a comment (just click the "[No] Comments" link below, type away in the box that appears, then choose "Anonymous" from the 'Post As' drop-down menu, and hit "Publish"), you can confirm this and specify the type.  Given my respiratory distress, I'm sticking with water for now.

The magnificent Mufti called the roll, with three hearty cheers for head chef Susan.  No newcomers today; no significant injuries; plenty of witty repartee.  Photos are available for those who like that sort of thing.