Run #1372 - A traditional Bulgarian Christmas Eve

December 24, 2007

Hares: Snowplow and Big Country
Where: Snowplows Sugar Shack
Big Rock: a Merry Bugarian Christmas would not be complete without it!
Attendance: 8

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Dear Santa,

Vesela Koleda! Zhelaem vi mnogo zdrave, kusmet, i usmivki.

(If you need to find out what that means, please ask Snowplow. She currently serves as the guest scribe, sub photographer, and full-time Mrs. Big Country.)

The Christmas Eve hash featured a very youthful bunch with an average age of 38! If any old geezers suddenly regret missing this run, please be advised that some girls were well underage.

We circled on the back deck, said a fitting prayer to the lager and headed up the hill to the promised warm regroup spot. Andrea's suite included exotic artwork, V8 juice and beer, authentic knives, and some sort of tripod stools with a handy leather holder for the guests' privates. Andrea, a holistic care practitioner after hours, led several consenting hashers to her massage chambers, complete with a rack of fresh towels. Some came back sooner than others. Andrea invited all to drop by anytime. For a massage and a beer or something. This may just be the best thing that White Balls, the Duke of Hurl, and Tiny Bubbles have heard all year. Yes! They believe in Santa now.

On the way back down the hill to the Christmas Eve dinner, most hashers chose various routes, losing and rejoining the carefully set trail. Everyone enjoyed the suburban Christmas lights at their peak.

Pyro, as the most senior hasher present, gracefully assumed the role of RA. Another good word for Pyro: he presented the hosts' young kids with small hash T-shirts. However, Snowplow and Andrea tried them on and they fit well. No, they fit really well. Who says hash shirts should not be extra form fitting?

Big Country had spent some useful time at his computer that afternoon and dug up Christmas-related hash songs. White Balls and Big Country put their heart and soul in the tasteful renditions, as the minors in the household were banned from the main floor. The house is almost a hundred years old and not exactly soundproof, though. The adults did not particularly care at this point. Before any official down-downs, all downed a shot of potent Bulgarian grape brandy.

The semi-new hashers Michael and Andrea got named last night. The never-punctual Michael will be known from now on as "Cums Too Late." Michael's name is wife-approved too. Moraine, more of a basher rather than new boots, is not exactly a potential hasher, but more of a hash groupie. She has been spotted jumping out of her living room and offering sips of frozen Sangria to hot and steamy hash runners. Meanwhile, Andrea's business card promises "Release", among other massage treatments, so the hash was very kind in giving her this "clean" name of "Happy Ending." She tries to make a living as a schoolteacher after all.

In Bulgarian tradition, the Christmas Eve dinner concludes a 40-day long fast with an odd number of meatless dishes. Snowplow, being a vegetarian, truly embraced this tradition and even got some near converts. The Duke of Hurl, White Balls, Pyro, Tiny Bubbles, Cums Too Late, and of course Big Country (but maybe out of misguided duty) lined up at the buffet table. Gentlemen first, please. Guys, please have seconds, and thirds. And they did, and it was good. With baklava in their mouths...

Tiny Bubbles was well enough to come out and enjoy a refreshing walk and the company of Snowplow's charming babysitter and new boots Patricia, but she will not be joining the hash as she has a prior engagement every Monday night - babysitting. Tiny Bubbles got his down-down for slashing a hefty chunk off his behind. He waited till the end of the evening, though, to give us an unrated account of what happened two weeks ago. He was working at his computer very early in the morning, saw that his wine glass needed refilling, and got up to polish the bottle. He then tripped on a wire, and sat hard on the hash server. (You do see how we are all liable now.) His daughter was summoned and when she came, she found her dad in a house robe and nothing else, with blood pouring down his legs. It must have looked scary even to the hospital personnel, because our fellow hasher got immediate treatment even in the busy Calgary ER. Twenty-five stitches later, plus two weeks in bed laying face down, TB is cheerful as ever. The ladies almost had him drop his pants for some hard evidence and a photo opportunity. Strangely enough, the remaining male hashers found the story, and the chance of visual proof, their cue to leave.

And Dear Santa, we were all nice, not naughty at all, right? Not naughty, OK? Please just come.

Snow Plow


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