The Snow Blower

Sorry, been away for a bit, so didn't post to collated shopping list.
I hope you all got some ideas from the thread.
One thing that I found for my bride was a wedge template, drunkards
path template and a martelli circle cutter. Think she'll like them.
For the daughter, some wool, a gift certificate to her favorite shop
(okay, she works there part time too), and a Sid Crosby Fathead (he's
the 21-year-old captain of the Pittsburgh Penquins, her favorite
hockey team).
Thought I would share with you all what I did this week.

The Snow Blower
Okay, for a fly fisherman, it’s getting close to when I have to pull
out a chainsaw just to fish. You just cut a 3 foot circle in the ice
and then a 25 foot long, one foot wide slot leading to the circle.
Bob's your uncle, you can fly fish in the Winter in Nebraska.
But first, you have to get by the blizzards. Yes, I said the ugly
word, blizzard.
For those of you that have never experienced a blizzard, go to your
favorite ski slope at night. When they turn on the snow making
machine, place a 50' wide fan behind it and crank it up to hurricane.
Now stand there in the -10 degree weather with this in your face for 3
days. This is a blizzard. Wind chills down so low, atoms slow down.
The upside, your mother-in-law will stay in West Palm Beach for
Christmas instead of camping out in your spare bedroom.
Tuesday, we were scheduled to open Nebraska's Donner Party Season with
a bit of wind and snow. Everyone makes a mad dash to the grocery store
for toilet paper and milk. The only reason I can figure for this
important combination is that folks sit around in their snow forts and
make cocoa from chocolate-flavored ExLax. Just don't ask about the
marshmallows. Really.. Don't.
Tuesday morning dawns and I call the snow line for work. SNOW DAY!
Bonus. Let’s get the snow blower up to speed. I then remember the fun
of using a snow blower in the wind. The snow comes back in your face,
covering you from head to foot, you end up looking like the looser in
a chainsaw ice block carving contest (I love chainsaws).
Hmm, okay, up in the man cave over the garage is a box with a cab for
my snow blower. I bought it on Summer clearance sale a couple of years
before. I get the thing down and install it.
It is a three-sided cab made of clear plastic with a steel tube frame
that mounts on the handle bars. You put it on, step into the open back
and plow away. Great. I take it out for the first test run that
afternoon. Snow has covered my 120' driveway and I clear it away. Wind
is at about 5 to 10 mph, snow blows back at me. Nothing, nada. Face is
clear. Thing works like a charm.
Wednesday... another snow day. The difference being is that the wind
has circled around from the North, the isobars tightened up and its
howling. Snow's not coming down, its coming sideways. Three to five
foot drifts cover my yard with two feet of blown snow over the
driveway.
This is what my serious snow blowing machine was made for. Nine horse
Brigs and Stratton behind a 29" throat, dual stage, six gears forward,
two in reverse, power-drive, electric-start monster. Now outfitted
with the ever important cab. Bwahahahaha!
I start up the driveway, wind swirls, blowing the snow 50 feet into
the air. A few crystals make it past the cab, but nothing like it
would be without it. I have about 3/4 of the drive done and am making
passes up and down. On about the sixth pass, I turn the beast around
in the street... and then... just as I pull the lever down to engage
the power drive, a 50 mph gust catches the cab from behind.
The snow blower is now rocket propelled. It shoots forward, pulling me
off my feet. I'm holding onto the handlebars as the monster goes mach
snot down the driveway dragging me behind it. I'm now stretched out
with my knees and toes making dual tracks in the snow. The Dickies
insulated coveralls burst into flame, finally warming my frozen feet.
I'm a snow blowing comet!
The snow chute on the machine spins like a top. Snow shooting out in
all directions, flames out the back, the snow cone maker from Hell has
a life of its own. I blast a chunk of snow through the neighbor's
window, instantly flocking his Christmas tree. I think I’m flocked
too.
More comes out the chute, not just snow, but the newspaper. It’s a
frozen missile that takes out 17 tobogganers two blocks over. It’s
like bowling with a shot put.
The crazed ice yacht takes the path of least resistance and whips
around the house where the wind has cleared the snow. I crash through
the fence, streaming wire like a Rorschach Christmas garland.
I then zip through the back yard where the dog does his business. Now
the thing has become an instrument of mass destruction. Its shooting
out tiny icy B.M.s.
The dog is running for its life. I'm afraid he's not going to make it.
He then decides it’s a game, circles back and jumps for the snow
coming out the top. Snow shoots down his throat, out the back end and
writes Froehliche Weihnachten in Chinese characters on the side of the
house (he's half dachshund, half Maltese).
And finally, as I'm about to crash through the garage, the cab flips
over on top of the snow blower. The snow blower glides ever so calmly
to a stop, I get to my feet, turn the machine into the wind, flip the
cab back up before it can burst into flames from the heat of the
motor, dump snow on my smoldering knees (hey, these coveralls look
better in charcoal black), examine the pedicure on my toes, wonder
where my boots are, and turn off the machine. The dog comes over and
looks at me with that look of disappointment only a dog can muster. He
pees on my leg.
I wheel the snow blower into the garage, wander into the house, and
buy a ticket for the Bahamas, one-way. Never again.

Frank Reid

On Dec 12, 8:25*pm, Frank Reid wrote:
Sorry, been away for a bit, so didn't post to collated shopping list.
I hope you all got some ideas from the thread.
One thing that I found for my bride was a wedge template, drunkards
path template and a martelli circle cutter. *Think she'll like them.
For the daughter, some wool, a gift certificate to her favorite shop
(okay, she works there part time too), and a Sid Crosby Fathead (he's
the 21-year-old captain of the Pittsburgh Penquins, her favorite
hockey team).
Thought I would share with you all what I did this week.

The Snow Blower
Okay, for a fly fisherman, it’s getting close to when I have to pull
out a chainsaw just to fish. You just cut a 3 foot circle in the ice
and then a 25 foot long, one foot wide slot leading to the circle.
Bob's your uncle, you can fly fish in the Winter in Nebraska.
But first, you have to get by the blizzards. Yes, I said the ugly
word, blizzard.
For those of you that have never experienced a blizzard, go to your
favorite ski slope at night. When they turn on the snow making
machine, place a 50' wide fan behind it and crank it up to hurricane.
Now stand there in the -10 degree weather with this in your face for 3
days. This is a blizzard. Wind chills down so low, atoms slow down.
The upside, your mother-in-law will stay in West Palm Beach for
Christmas instead of camping out in your spare bedroom.
Tuesday, we were scheduled to open Nebraska's Donner Party Season with
a bit of wind and snow. Everyone makes a mad dash to the grocery store
for toilet paper and milk. The only reason I can figure for this
important combination is that folks sit around in their snow forts and
make cocoa from chocolate-flavored ExLax. Just don't ask about the
marshmallows. Really.. Don't.
Tuesday morning dawns and I call the snow line for work. SNOW DAY!
Bonus. Let’s get the snow blower up to speed. I then remember the fun
of using a snow blower in the wind. The snow comes back in your face,
covering you from head to foot, you end up looking like the looser in
a chainsaw ice block carving contest (I love chainsaws).
Hmm, okay, up in the man cave over the garage is a box with a cab for
my snow blower. I bought it on Summer clearance sale a couple of years
before. I get the thing down and install it.
It is a three-sided cab made of clear plastic with a steel tube frame
that mounts on the handle bars. You put it on, step into the open back
and plow away. Great. I take it out for the first test run that
afternoon. Snow has covered my 120' driveway and I clear it away. Wind
is at about 5 to 10 mph, snow blows back at me. Nothing, nada. Face is
clear. Thing works like a charm.
Wednesday... another snow day. The difference being is that the wind
has circled around from the North, the isobars tightened up and its
howling. Snow's not coming down, its coming sideways. Three to five
foot drifts cover my yard with two feet of blown snow over the
driveway.
This is what my serious snow blowing machine was made for. Nine horse
Brigs and Stratton behind a 29" throat, dual stage, six gears forward,
two in reverse, power-drive, electric-start monster. Now outfitted
with the ever important cab. Bwahahahaha!
I start up the driveway, wind swirls, blowing the snow 50 feet into
the air. A few crystals make it past the cab, but nothing like it
would be without it. I have about 3/4 of the drive done and am making
passes up and down. On about the sixth pass, I turn the beast around
in the street... and then... just as I pull the lever down to engage
the power drive, a 50 mph gust catches the cab from behind.
The snow blower is now rocket propelled. It shoots forward, pulling me
off my feet. I'm holding onto the handlebars as the monster goes mach
snot down the driveway dragging me behind it. I'm now stretched out
with my knees and toes making dual tracks in the snow. The Dickies
insulated coveralls burst into flame, finally warming my frozen feet.
I'm a snow blowing comet!
The snow chute on the machine spins like a top. Snow shooting out in
all directions, flames out the back, the snow cone maker from Hell has
a life of its own. I blast a chunk of snow through the neighbor's
window, instantly flocking his Christmas tree. I think I’m flocked
too.
More comes out the chute, not just snow, but the newspaper. It’s a
frozen missile that takes out 17 tobogganers two blocks over. It’s
like bowling with a shot put.
The crazed ice yacht takes the path of least resistance and whips
around the house where the wind has cleared the snow. I crash through
the fence, streaming wire like a Rorschach Christmas garland.
I then zip through the back yard where the dog does his business. Now
the thing has become an instrument of mass destruction. Its shooting
out tiny icy B.M.s.
The dog is running for its life. I'm afraid he's not going to make it.
He then decides it’s a game, circles back and jumps for the snow
coming out the top. Snow shoots down his throat, out the back end and
writes Froehliche Weihnachten in Chinese characters on the side of the
house (he's half dachshund, half Maltese).
And finally, as I'm about to crash through the garage, the cab flips
over on top of the snow blower. The snow blower glides ever so calmly
to a stop, I get to my feet, turn the machine into the wind, flip the
cab back up before it can burst into flames from the heat of the
motor, dump snow on my smoldering knees (hey, these coveralls look
better in charcoal black), examine the pedicure on my toes, wonder
where my boots are, and turn off the machine. The dog comes over and
looks at me with that look of disappointment only a dog can muster. He
pees on my leg.
I wheel the snow blower into the garage, wander into the house, and
buy a ticket for the Bahamas, one-way. Never again.

Frank Reid

OMG! Where was the warning on that????!!! I just spewed my hot
chocolate all over the keyboard! Great story Frank!!! We'll have to
archive it and roll it out every year with Polly's joke. Thanks for
the chuckle. I hope your knees heal quickly.
KJ

Well Frank!! I hope you are pleased with yourself............Not only did I
loose me coffee, I peed meself ta boot!! I have ta go & change & then clean
off me monitor!! G Great visual!!

Thanks for the huge belly laugh..
Nana

"Frank Reid" wrote in message
...
Sorry, been away for a bit, so didn't post to collated shopping list.
I hope you all got some ideas from the thread.
One thing that I found for my bride was a wedge template, drunkards
path template and a martelli circle cutter. Think she'll like them.
For the daughter, some wool, a gift certificate to her favorite shop
(okay, she works there part time too), and a Sid Crosby Fathead (he's
the 21-year-old captain of the Pittsburgh Penquins, her favorite
hockey team).
Thought I would share with you all what I did this week.

The Snow Blower
Okay, for a fly fisherman, it’s getting close to when I have to pull
out a chainsaw just to fish. You just cut a 3 foot circle in the ice
and then a 25 foot long, one foot wide slot leading to the circle.
Bob's your uncle, you can fly fish in the Winter in Nebraska.
But first, you have to get by the blizzards. Yes, I said the ugly
word, blizzard.
For those of you that have never experienced a blizzard, go to your
favorite ski slope at night. When they turn on the snow making
machine, place a 50' wide fan behind it and crank it up to hurricane.
Now stand there in the -10 degree weather with this in your face for 3
days. This is a blizzard. Wind chills down so low, atoms slow down.
The upside, your mother-in-law will stay in West Palm Beach for
Christmas instead of camping out in your spare bedroom.
Tuesday, we were scheduled to open Nebraska's Donner Party Season with
a bit of wind and snow. Everyone makes a mad dash to the grocery store
for toilet paper and milk. The only reason I can figure for this
important combination is that folks sit around in their snow forts and
make cocoa from chocolate-flavored ExLax. Just don't ask about the
marshmallows. Really.. Don't.
Tuesday morning dawns and I call the snow line for work. SNOW DAY!
Bonus. Let’s get the snow blower up to speed. I then remember the fun
of using a snow blower in the wind. The snow comes back in your face,
covering you from head to foot, you end up looking like the looser in
a chainsaw ice block carving contest (I love chainsaws).
Hmm, okay, up in the man cave over the garage is a box with a cab for
my snow blower. I bought it on Summer clearance sale a couple of years
before. I get the thing down and install it.
It is a three-sided cab made of clear plastic with a steel tube frame
that mounts on the handle bars. You put it on, step into the open back
and plow away. Great. I take it out for the first test run that
afternoon. Snow has covered my 120' driveway and I clear it away. Wind
is at about 5 to 10 mph, snow blows back at me. Nothing, nada. Face is
clear. Thing works like a charm.
Wednesday... another snow day. The difference being is that the wind
has circled around from the North, the isobars tightened up and its
howling. Snow's not coming down, its coming sideways. Three to five
foot drifts cover my yard with two feet of blown snow over the
driveway.
This is what my serious snow blowing machine was made for. Nine horse
Brigs and Stratton behind a 29" throat, dual stage, six gears forward,
two in reverse, power-drive, electric-start monster. Now outfitted
with the ever important cab. Bwahahahaha!
I start up the driveway, wind swirls, blowing the snow 50 feet into
the air. A few crystals make it past the cab, but nothing like it
would be without it. I have about 3/4 of the drive done and am making
passes up and down. On about the sixth pass, I turn the beast around
in the street... and then... just as I pull the lever down to engage
the power drive, a 50 mph gust catches the cab from behind.
The snow blower is now rocket propelled. It shoots forward, pulling me
off my feet. I'm holding onto the handlebars as the monster goes mach
snot down the driveway dragging me behind it. I'm now stretched out
with my knees and toes making dual tracks in the snow. The Dickies
insulated coveralls burst into flame, finally warming my frozen feet.
I'm a snow blowing comet!
The snow chute on the machine spins like a top. Snow shooting out in
all directions, flames out the back, the snow cone maker from Hell has
a life of its own. I blast a chunk of snow through the neighbor's
window, instantly flocking his Christmas tree. I think I’m flocked
too.
More comes out the chute, not just snow, but the newspaper. It’s a
frozen missile that takes out 17 tobogganers two blocks over. It’s
like bowling with a shot put.
The crazed ice yacht takes the path of least resistance and whips
around the house where the wind has cleared the snow. I crash through
the fence, streaming wire like a Rorschach Christmas garland.
I then zip through the back yard where the dog does his business. Now
the thing has become an instrument of mass destruction. Its shooting
out tiny icy B.M.s.
The dog is running for its life. I'm afraid he's not going to make it.
He then decides it’s a game, circles back and jumps for the snow
coming out the top. Snow shoots down his throat, out the back end and
writes Froehliche Weihnachten in Chinese characters on the side of the
house (he's half dachshund, half Maltese).
And finally, as I'm about to crash through the garage, the cab flips
over on top of the snow blower. The snow blower glides ever so calmly
to a stop, I get to my feet, turn the machine into the wind, flip the
cab back up before it can burst into flames from the heat of the
motor, dump snow on my smoldering knees (hey, these coveralls look
better in charcoal black), examine the pedicure on my toes, wonder
where my boots are, and turn off the machine. The dog comes over and
looks at me with that look of disappointment only a dog can muster. He
pees on my leg.
I wheel the snow blower into the garage, wander into the house, and
buy a ticket for the Bahamas, one-way. Never again.

Frank Reid

I almost wet my pants. Yeah, I'd say you were "flocked" all right.

Cindy


"Frank Reid" wrote in message
...
Sorry, been away for a bit, so didn't post to collated shopping list.
I hope you all got some ideas from the thread.
One thing that I found for my bride was a wedge template, drunkards
path template and a martelli circle cutter. Think she'll like them.
For the daughter, some wool, a gift certificate to her favorite shop
(okay, she works there part time too), and a Sid Crosby Fathead (he's
the 21-year-old captain of the Pittsburgh Penquins, her favorite
hockey team).
Thought I would share with you all what I did this week.

The Snow Blower
Okay, for a fly fisherman, it’s getting close to when I have to pull
out a chainsaw just to fish. You just cut a 3 foot circle in the ice
and then a 25 foot long, one foot wide slot leading to the circle.
Bob's your uncle, you can fly fish in the Winter in Nebraska.
But first, you have to get by the blizzards. Yes, I said the ugly
word, blizzard.
For those of you that have never experienced a blizzard, go to your
favorite ski slope at night. When they turn on the snow making
machine, place a 50' wide fan behind it and crank it up to hurricane.
Now stand there in the -10 degree weather with this in your face for 3
days. This is a blizzard. Wind chills down so low, atoms slow down.
The upside, your mother-in-law will stay in West Palm Beach for
Christmas instead of camping out in your spare bedroom.
Tuesday, we were scheduled to open Nebraska's Donner Party Season with
a bit of wind and snow. Everyone makes a mad dash to the grocery store
for toilet paper and milk. The only reason I can figure for this
important combination is that folks sit around in their snow forts and
make cocoa from chocolate-flavored ExLax. Just don't ask about the
marshmallows. Really.. Don't.
Tuesday morning dawns and I call the snow line for work. SNOW DAY!
Bonus. Let’s get the snow blower up to speed. I then remember the fun
of using a snow blower in the wind. The snow comes back in your face,
covering you from head to foot, you end up looking like the looser in
a chainsaw ice block carving contest (I love chainsaws).
Hmm, okay, up in the man cave over the garage is a box with a cab for
my snow blower. I bought it on Summer clearance sale a couple of years
before. I get the thing down and install it.
It is a three-sided cab made of clear plastic with a steel tube frame
that mounts on the handle bars. You put it on, step into the open back
and plow away. Great. I take it out for the first test run that
afternoon. Snow has covered my 120' driveway and I clear it away. Wind
is at about 5 to 10 mph, snow blows back at me. Nothing, nada. Face is
clear. Thing works like a charm.
Wednesday... another snow day. The difference being is that the wind
has circled around from the North, the isobars tightened up and its
howling. Snow's not coming down, its coming sideways. Three to five
foot drifts cover my yard with two feet of blown snow over the
driveway.
This is what my serious snow blowing machine was made for. Nine horse
Brigs and Stratton behind a 29" throat, dual stage, six gears forward,
two in reverse, power-drive, electric-start monster. Now outfitted
with the ever important cab. Bwahahahaha!
I start up the driveway, wind swirls, blowing the snow 50 feet into
the air. A few crystals make it past the cab, but nothing like it
would be without it. I have about 3/4 of the drive done and am making
passes up and down. On about the sixth pass, I turn the beast around
in the street... and then... just as I pull the lever down to engage
the power drive, a 50 mph gust catches the cab from behind.
The snow blower is now rocket propelled. It shoots forward, pulling me
off my feet. I'm holding onto the handlebars as the monster goes mach
snot down the driveway dragging me behind it. I'm now stretched out
with my knees and toes making dual tracks in the snow. The Dickies
insulated coveralls burst into flame, finally warming my frozen feet.
I'm a snow blowing comet!
The snow chute on the machine spins like a top. Snow shooting out in
all directions, flames out the back, the snow cone maker from Hell has
a life of its own. I blast a chunk of snow through the neighbor's
window, instantly flocking his Christmas tree. I think I’m flocked
too.
More comes out the chute, not just snow, but the newspaper. It’s a
frozen missile that takes out 17 tobogganers two blocks over. It’s
like bowling with a shot put.
The crazed ice yacht takes the path of least resistance and whips
around the house where the wind has cleared the snow. I crash through
the fence, streaming wire like a Rorschach Christmas garland.
I then zip through the back yard where the dog does his business. Now
the thing has become an instrument of mass destruction. Its shooting
out tiny icy B.M.s.
The dog is running for its life. I'm afraid he's not going to make it.
He then decides it’s a game, circles back and jumps for the snow
coming out the top. Snow shoots down his throat, out the back end and
writes Froehliche Weihnachten in Chinese characters on the side of the
house (he's half dachshund, half Maltese).
And finally, as I'm about to crash through the garage, the cab flips
over on top of the snow blower. The snow blower glides ever so calmly
to a stop, I get to my feet, turn the machine into the wind, flip the
cab back up before it can burst into flames from the heat of the
motor, dump snow on my smoldering knees (hey, these coveralls look
better in charcoal black), examine the pedicure on my toes, wonder
where my boots are, and turn off the machine. The dog comes over and
looks at me with that look of disappointment only a dog can muster. He
pees on my leg.
I wheel the snow blower into the garage, wander into the house, and
buy a ticket for the Bahamas, one-way. Never again.

Frank Reid

Can I pass that on to people? I would give you full credit without divulging
email or true identity. My husband would get a kick out of it. That's the
kind of stuff he claims happens to him when things go horribly awry.

Cindy


"Frank Reid" wrote in message
...
Sorry, been away for a bit, so didn't post to collated shopping list.
I hope you all got some ideas from the thread.
One thing that I found for my bride was a wedge template, drunkards
path template and a martelli circle cutter. Think she'll like them.
For the daughter, some wool, a gift certificate to her favorite shop
(okay, she works there part time too), and a Sid Crosby Fathead (he's
the 21-year-old captain of the Pittsburgh Penquins, her favorite
hockey team).
Thought I would share with you all what I did this week.

The Snow Blower
Okay, for a fly fisherman, it’s getting close to when I have to pull
out a chainsaw just to fish. You just cut a 3 foot circle in the ice
and then a 25 foot long, one foot wide slot leading to the circle.
Bob's your uncle, you can fly fish in the Winter in Nebraska.
But first, you have to get by the blizzards. Yes, I said the ugly
word, blizzard.
For those of you that have never experienced a blizzard, go to your
favorite ski slope at night. When they turn on the snow making
machine, place a 50' wide fan behind it and crank it up to hurricane.
Now stand there in the -10 degree weather with this in your face for 3
days. This is a blizzard. Wind chills down so low, atoms slow down.
The upside, your mother-in-law will stay in West Palm Beach for
Christmas instead of camping out in your spare bedroom.
Tuesday, we were scheduled to open Nebraska's Donner Party Season with
a bit of wind and snow. Everyone makes a mad dash to the grocery store
for toilet paper and milk. The only reason I can figure for this
important combination is that folks sit around in their snow forts and
make cocoa from chocolate-flavored ExLax. Just don't ask about the
marshmallows. Really.. Don't.
Tuesday morning dawns and I call the snow line for work. SNOW DAY!
Bonus. Let’s get the snow blower up to speed. I then remember the fun
of using a snow blower in the wind. The snow comes back in your face,
covering you from head to foot, you end up looking like the looser in
a chainsaw ice block carving contest (I love chainsaws).
Hmm, okay, up in the man cave over the garage is a box with a cab for
my snow blower. I bought it on Summer clearance sale a couple of years
before. I get the thing down and install it.
It is a three-sided cab made of clear plastic with a steel tube frame
that mounts on the handle bars. You put it on, step into the open back
and plow away. Great. I take it out for the first test run that
afternoon. Snow has covered my 120' driveway and I clear it away. Wind
is at about 5 to 10 mph, snow blows back at me. Nothing, nada. Face is
clear. Thing works like a charm.
Wednesday... another snow day. The difference being is that the wind
has circled around from the North, the isobars tightened up and its
howling. Snow's not coming down, its coming sideways. Three to five
foot drifts cover my yard with two feet of blown snow over the
driveway.
This is what my serious snow blowing machine was made for. Nine horse
Brigs and Stratton behind a 29" throat, dual stage, six gears forward,
two in reverse, power-drive, electric-start monster. Now outfitted
with the ever important cab. Bwahahahaha!
I start up the driveway, wind swirls, blowing the snow 50 feet into
the air. A few crystals make it past the cab, but nothing like it
would be without it. I have about 3/4 of the drive done and am making
passes up and down. On about the sixth pass, I turn the beast around
in the street... and then... just as I pull the lever down to engage
the power drive, a 50 mph gust catches the cab from behind.
The snow blower is now rocket propelled. It shoots forward, pulling me
off my feet. I'm holding onto the handlebars as the monster goes mach
snot down the driveway dragging me behind it. I'm now stretched out
with my knees and toes making dual tracks in the snow. The Dickies
insulated coveralls burst into flame, finally warming my frozen feet.
I'm a snow blowing comet!
The snow chute on the machine spins like a top. Snow shooting out in
all directions, flames out the back, the snow cone maker from Hell has
a life of its own. I blast a chunk of snow through the neighbor's
window, instantly flocking his Christmas tree. I think I’m flocked
too.
More comes out the chute, not just snow, but the newspaper. It’s a
frozen missile that takes out 17 tobogganers two blocks over. It’s
like bowling with a shot put.
The crazed ice yacht takes the path of least resistance and whips
around the house where the wind has cleared the snow. I crash through
the fence, streaming wire like a Rorschach Christmas garland.
I then zip through the back yard where the dog does his business. Now
the thing has become an instrument of mass destruction. Its shooting
out tiny icy B.M.s.
The dog is running for its life. I'm afraid he's not going to make it.
He then decides it’s a game, circles back and jumps for the snow
coming out the top. Snow shoots down his throat, out the back end and
writes Froehliche Weihnachten in Chinese characters on the side of the
house (he's half dachshund, half Maltese).
And finally, as I'm about to crash through the garage, the cab flips
over on top of the snow blower. The snow blower glides ever so calmly
to a stop, I get to my feet, turn the machine into the wind, flip the
cab back up before it can burst into flames from the heat of the
motor, dump snow on my smoldering knees (hey, these coveralls look
better in charcoal black), examine the pedicure on my toes, wonder
where my boots are, and turn off the machine. The dog comes over and
looks at me with that look of disappointment only a dog can muster. He
pees on my leg.
I wheel the snow blower into the garage, wander into the house, and
buy a ticket for the Bahamas, one-way. Never again.

Frank Reid

In article
,
Frank Reid wrote:

Sorry, been away for a bit, so didn't post to collated shopping list.
I hope you all got some ideas from the thread.
One thing that I found for my bride was a wedge template, drunkards
path template and a martelli circle cutter. Think she'll like them.
For the daughter, some wool, a gift certificate to her favorite shop
(okay, she works there part time too), and a Sid Crosby Fathead (he's
the 21-year-old captain of the Pittsburgh Penquins, her favorite
hockey team).
Thought I would share with you all what I did this week.

The Snow Blower
Okay, for a fly fisherman, it¹s getting close to when I have to pull
out a chainsaw just to fish. You just cut a 3 foot circle in the ice
and then a 25 foot long, one foot wide slot leading to the circle.
Bob's your uncle, you can fly fish in the Winter in Nebraska.
But first, you have to get by the blizzards. Yes, I said the ugly
word, blizzard.
For those of you that have never experienced a blizzard, go to your
favorite ski slope at night. When they turn on the snow making
machine, place a 50' wide fan behind it and crank it up to hurricane.
Now stand there in the -10 degree weather with this in your face for 3
days. This is a blizzard. Wind chills down so low, atoms slow down.
The upside, your mother-in-law will stay in West Palm Beach for
Christmas instead of camping out in your spare bedroom.
Tuesday, we were scheduled to open Nebraska's Donner Party Season with
a bit of wind and snow. Everyone makes a mad dash to the grocery store
for toilet paper and milk. The only reason I can figure for this
important combination is that folks sit around in their snow forts and
make cocoa from chocolate-flavored ExLax. Just don't ask about the
marshmallows. Really.. Don't.
Tuesday morning dawns and I call the snow line for work. SNOW DAY!
Bonus. Let¹s get the snow blower up to speed. I then remember the fun
of using a snow blower in the wind. The snow comes back in your face,
covering you from head to foot, you end up looking like the looser in
a chainsaw ice block carving contest (I love chainsaws).
Hmm, okay, up in the man cave over the garage is a box with a cab for
my snow blower. I bought it on Summer clearance sale a couple of years
before. I get the thing down and install it.
It is a three-sided cab made of clear plastic with a steel tube frame
that mounts on the handle bars. You put it on, step into the open back
and plow away. Great. I take it out for the first test run that
afternoon. Snow has covered my 120' driveway and I clear it away. Wind
is at about 5 to 10 mph, snow blows back at me. Nothing, nada. Face is
clear. Thing works like a charm.
Wednesday... another snow day. The difference being is that the wind
has circled around from the North, the isobars tightened up and its
howling. Snow's not coming down, its coming sideways. Three to five
foot drifts cover my yard with two feet of blown snow over the
driveway.
This is what my serious snow blowing machine was made for. Nine horse
Brigs and Stratton behind a 29" throat, dual stage, six gears forward,
two in reverse, power-drive, electric-start monster. Now outfitted
with the ever important cab. Bwahahahaha!
I start up the driveway, wind swirls, blowing the snow 50 feet into
the air. A few crystals make it past the cab, but nothing like it
would be without it. I have about 3/4 of the drive done and am making
passes up and down. On about the sixth pass, I turn the beast around
in the street... and then... just as I pull the lever down to engage
the power drive, a 50 mph gust catches the cab from behind.
The snow blower is now rocket propelled. It shoots forward, pulling me
off my feet. I'm holding onto the handlebars as the monster goes mach
snot down the driveway dragging me behind it. I'm now stretched out
with my knees and toes making dual tracks in the snow. The Dickies
insulated coveralls burst into flame, finally warming my frozen feet.
I'm a snow blowing comet!
The snow chute on the machine spins like a top. Snow shooting out in
all directions, flames out the back, the snow cone maker from Hell has
a life of its own. I blast a chunk of snow through the neighbor's
window, instantly flocking his Christmas tree. I think I¹m flocked
too.
More comes out the chute, not just snow, but the newspaper. It¹s a
frozen missile that takes out 17 tobogganers two blocks over. It¹s
like bowling with a shot put.
The crazed ice yacht takes the path of least resistance and whips
around the house where the wind has cleared the snow. I crash through
the fence, streaming wire like a Rorschach Christmas garland.
I then zip through the back yard where the dog does his business. Now
the thing has become an instrument of mass destruction. Its shooting
out tiny icy B.M.s.
The dog is running for its life. I'm afraid he's not going to make it.
He then decides it¹s a game, circles back and jumps for the snow
coming out the top. Snow shoots down his throat, out the back end and
writes Froehliche Weihnachten in Chinese characters on the side of the
house (he's half dachshund, half Maltese).
And finally, as I'm about to crash through the garage, the cab flips
over on top of the snow blower. The snow blower glides ever so calmly
to a stop, I get to my feet, turn the machine into the wind, flip the
cab back up before it can burst into flames from the heat of the
motor, dump snow on my smoldering knees (hey, these coveralls look
better in charcoal black), examine the pedicure on my toes, wonder
where my boots are, and turn off the machine. The dog comes over and
looks at me with that look of disappointment only a dog can muster. He
pees on my leg.
I wheel the snow blower into the garage, wander into the house, and
buy a ticket for the Bahamas, one-way. Never again.

Frank Reid


ROFLOL!!!!! Frank, it's a good thing I didn't fix tea today, or it would
be all over my monitor! How's the pedicure?

--
Sandy in Henderson, near Las Vegas
sw.foster1 (at) gmail (dot) com (remove/change the obvious)
http://www.sandymike.net

Oh, my. No blizzards for me, thank you!

Ginger in CA
closest I came to that was racing horses in the winter in Chicago

On Dec 12, 6:25*pm, Frank Reid wrote:
Sorry, been away for a bit, so didn't post to collated shopping list.
I hope you all got some ideas from the thread.
One thing that I found for my bride was a wedge template, drunkards
path template and a martelli circle cutter. *Think she'll like them.
For the daughter, some wool, a gift certificate to her favorite shop
(okay, she works there part time too), and a Sid Crosby Fathead (he's
the 21-year-old captain of the Pittsburgh Penquins, her favorite
hockey team).
Thought I would share with you all what I did this week.

The Snow Blower
Okay, for a fly fisherman, it’s getting close to when I have to pull
out a chainsaw just to fish. You just cut a 3 foot circle in the ice
and then a 25 foot long, one foot wide slot leading to the circle.
Bob's your uncle, you can fly fish in the Winter in Nebraska.
But first, you have to get by the blizzards. Yes, I said the ugly
word, blizzard.
For those of you that have never experienced a blizzard, go to your
favorite ski slope at night. When they turn on the snow making
machine, place a 50' wide fan behind it and crank it up to hurricane.
Now stand there in the -10 degree weather with this in your face for 3
days. This is a blizzard. Wind chills down so low, atoms slow down.
The upside, your mother-in-law will stay in West Palm Beach for
Christmas instead of camping out in your spare bedroom.
Tuesday, we were scheduled to open Nebraska's Donner Party Season with
a bit of wind and snow. Everyone makes a mad dash to the grocery store
for toilet paper and milk. The only reason I can figure for this
important combination is that folks sit around in their snow forts and
make cocoa from chocolate-flavored ExLax. Just don't ask about the
marshmallows. Really.. Don't.
Tuesday morning dawns and I call the snow line for work. SNOW DAY!
Bonus. Let’s get the snow blower up to speed. I then remember the fun
of using a snow blower in the wind. The snow comes back in your face,
covering you from head to foot, you end up looking like the looser in
a chainsaw ice block carving contest (I love chainsaws).
Hmm, okay, up in the man cave over the garage is a box with a cab for
my snow blower. I bought it on Summer clearance sale a couple of years
before. I get the thing down and install it.
It is a three-sided cab made of clear plastic with a steel tube frame
that mounts on the handle bars. You put it on, step into the open back
and plow away. Great. I take it out for the first test run that
afternoon. Snow has covered my 120' driveway and I clear it away. Wind
is at about 5 to 10 mph, snow blows back at me. Nothing, nada. Face is
clear. Thing works like a charm.
Wednesday... another snow day. The difference being is that the wind
has circled around from the North, the isobars tightened up and its
howling. Snow's not coming down, its coming sideways. Three to five
foot drifts cover my yard with two feet of blown snow over the
driveway.
This is what my serious snow blowing machine was made for. Nine horse
Brigs and Stratton behind a 29" throat, dual stage, six gears forward,
two in reverse, power-drive, electric-start monster. Now outfitted
with the ever important cab. Bwahahahaha!
I start up the driveway, wind swirls, blowing the snow 50 feet into
the air. A few crystals make it past the cab, but nothing like it
would be without it. I have about 3/4 of the drive done and am making
passes up and down. On about the sixth pass, I turn the beast around
in the street... and then... just as I pull the lever down to engage
the power drive, a 50 mph gust catches the cab from behind.
The snow blower is now rocket propelled. It shoots forward, pulling me
off my feet. I'm holding onto the handlebars as the monster goes mach
snot down the driveway dragging me behind it. I'm now stretched out
with my knees and toes making dual tracks in the snow. The Dickies
insulated coveralls burst into flame, finally warming my frozen feet.
I'm a snow blowing comet!
The snow chute on the machine spins like a top. Snow shooting out in
all directions, flames out the back, the snow cone maker from Hell has
a life of its own. I blast a chunk of snow through the neighbor's
window, instantly flocking his Christmas tree. I think I’m flocked
too.
More comes out the chute, not just snow, but the newspaper. It’s a
frozen missile that takes out 17 tobogganers two blocks over. It’s
like bowling with a shot put.
The crazed ice yacht takes the path of least resistance and whips
around the house where the wind has cleared the snow. I crash through
the fence, streaming wire like a Rorschach Christmas garland.
I then zip through the back yard where the dog does his business. Now
the thing has become an instrument of mass destruction. Its shooting
out tiny icy B.M.s.
The dog is running for its life. I'm afraid he's not going to make it.
He then decides it’s a game, circles back and jumps for the snow
coming out the top. Snow shoots down his throat, out the back end and
writes Froehliche Weihnachten in Chinese characters on the side of the
house (he's half dachshund, half Maltese).
And finally, as I'm about to crash through the garage, the cab flips
over on top of the snow blower. The snow blower glides ever so calmly
to a stop, I get to my feet, turn the machine into the wind, flip the
cab back up before it can burst into flames from the heat of the
motor, dump snow on my smoldering knees (hey, these coveralls look
better in charcoal black), examine the pedicure on my toes, wonder
where my boots are, and turn off the machine. The dog comes over and
looks at me with that look of disappointment only a dog can muster. He
pees on my leg.
I wheel the snow blower into the garage, wander into the house, and
buy a ticket for the Bahamas, one-way. Never again.

Frank Reid

ROTFLMAO! Thanks Frank!

Michelle in Nevada--and thankful to live where we don't have blizzards.

Frank Reid wrote:
Sorry, been away for a bit, so didn't post to collated shopping list.
I hope you all got some ideas from the thread.
One thing that I found for my bride was a wedge template, drunkards
path template and a martelli circle cutter. Think she'll like them.
For the daughter, some wool, a gift certificate to her favorite shop
(okay, she works there part time too), and a Sid Crosby Fathead (he's
the 21-year-old captain of the Pittsburgh Penquins, her favorite
hockey team).
Thought I would share with you all what I did this week.

The Snow Blower
Okay, for a fly fisherman, it’s getting close to when I have to pull
out a chainsaw just to fish. You just cut a 3 foot circle in the ice
and then a 25 foot long, one foot wide slot leading to the circle.
Bob's your uncle, you can fly fish in the Winter in Nebraska.
But first, you have to get by the blizzards. Yes, I said the ugly
word, blizzard.
For those of you that have never experienced a blizzard, go to your
favorite ski slope at night. When they turn on the snow making
machine, place a 50' wide fan behind it and crank it up to hurricane.
Now stand there in the -10 degree weather with this in your face for 3
days. This is a blizzard. Wind chills down so low, atoms slow down.
The upside, your mother-in-law will stay in West Palm Beach for
Christmas instead of camping out in your spare bedroom.
Tuesday, we were scheduled to open Nebraska's Donner Party Season with
a bit of wind and snow. Everyone makes a mad dash to the grocery store
for toilet paper and milk. The only reason I can figure for this
important combination is that folks sit around in their snow forts and
make cocoa from chocolate-flavored ExLax. Just don't ask about the
marshmallows. Really.. Don't.
Tuesday morning dawns and I call the snow line for work. SNOW DAY!
Bonus. Let’s get the snow blower up to speed. I then remember the fun
of using a snow blower in the wind. The snow comes back in your face,
covering you from head to foot, you end up looking like the looser in
a chainsaw ice block carving contest (I love chainsaws).
Hmm, okay, up in the man cave over the garage is a box with a cab for
my snow blower. I bought it on Summer clearance sale a couple of years
before. I get the thing down and install it.
It is a three-sided cab made of clear plastic with a steel tube frame
that mounts on the handle bars. You put it on, step into the open back
and plow away. Great. I take it out for the first test run that
afternoon. Snow has covered my 120' driveway and I clear it away. Wind
is at about 5 to 10 mph, snow blows back at me. Nothing, nada. Face is
clear. Thing works like a charm.
Wednesday... another snow day. The difference being is that the wind
has circled around from the North, the isobars tightened up and its
howling. Snow's not coming down, its coming sideways. Three to five
foot drifts cover my yard with two feet of blown snow over the
driveway.
This is what my serious snow blowing machine was made for. Nine horse
Brigs and Stratton behind a 29" throat, dual stage, six gears forward,
two in reverse, power-drive, electric-start monster. Now outfitted
with the ever important cab. Bwahahahaha!
I start up the driveway, wind swirls, blowing the snow 50 feet into
the air. A few crystals make it past the cab, but nothing like it
would be without it. I have about 3/4 of the drive done and am making
passes up and down. On about the sixth pass, I turn the beast around
in the street... and then... just as I pull the lever down to engage
the power drive, a 50 mph gust catches the cab from behind.
The snow blower is now rocket propelled. It shoots forward, pulling me
off my feet. I'm holding onto the handlebars as the monster goes mach
snot down the driveway dragging me behind it. I'm now stretched out
with my knees and toes making dual tracks in the snow. The Dickies
insulated coveralls burst into flame, finally warming my frozen feet.
I'm a snow blowing comet!
The snow chute on the machine spins like a top. Snow shooting out in
all directions, flames out the back, the snow cone maker from Hell has
a life of its own. I blast a chunk of snow through the neighbor's
window, instantly flocking his Christmas tree. I think I’m flocked
too.
More comes out the chute, not just snow, but the newspaper. It’s a
frozen missile that takes out 17 tobogganers two blocks over. It’s
like bowling with a shot put.
The crazed ice yacht takes the path of least resistance and whips
around the house where the wind has cleared the snow. I crash through
the fence, streaming wire like a Rorschach Christmas garland.
I then zip through the back yard where the dog does his business. Now
the thing has become an instrument of mass destruction. Its shooting
out tiny icy B.M.s.
The dog is running for its life. I'm afraid he's not going to make it.
He then decides it’s a game, circles back and jumps for the snow
coming out the top. Snow shoots down his throat, out the back end and
writes Froehliche Weihnachten in Chinese characters on the side of the
house (he's half dachshund, half Maltese).
And finally, as I'm about to crash through the garage, the cab flips
over on top of the snow blower. The snow blower glides ever so calmly
to a stop, I get to my feet, turn the machine into the wind, flip the
cab back up before it can burst into flames from the heat of the
motor, dump snow on my smoldering knees (hey, these coveralls look
better in charcoal black), examine the pedicure on my toes, wonder
where my boots are, and turn off the machine. The dog comes over and
looks at me with that look of disappointment only a dog can muster. He
pees on my leg.
I wheel the snow blower into the garage, wander into the house, and
buy a ticket for the Bahamas, one-way. Never again.

Frank Reid

On Dec 12, 10:32*pm, "teleflora" wrote:
Can I pass that on to people? I would give you full credit without divulging
email or true identity. *My husband would get a kick out of it. That's the
kind of stuff he claims happens to him when things go horribly awry.

Yes you can. No problem. I just write these things for fun and to
make people laugh. Then again, as a guy that makes his money from
computers, I don't know if you should. Evidently, this story causes
keyboard, monitor and computer chair abuse.
Frank Reid

Thanks, Frank, that was cute, I sent to my family in MN.


Denise, in the middle of a NH blizzard, as we speak. Sent DH out for
Chinese, just around the corner, and we're planning to hunker in for the
remainder.