Not a monster truck... technically

This is our snow blower. Or as I like to refer to it, Ghengis Khan the snow eating machine. This thing has to be seen to be believed. It has gigantic monster truck tires that would make a redneck blush. So you don't get stuck it has 4 wheel drive and it is a stick shift. Like they put in sports cars. I have added it to the list of stick shift things I am not good at driving including Chris's last car. Until Ghengis came along, I didn't even know that they made stick shift snow blowers. But, evidently they do.

The handles heat up so that your fingers don't get cold, because, lets face it, if you need a snow blower this huge you live in the friggin' arctic circle. An since here in the arctic circle it is dark all the time, no snow blower could be with out a head light which we also have. This thing can eat through 18 inches of heavy wet snow with out so much as a shudder thanks to the churning auger of certain death. You just drive straight at the giant pile of snow and it just grinds it right up and shoots it out the top.

This brings me to the most notable feature of the snow blower which I believe was an after-market addition by my father-in-law the last owner. The automatic, wife-locating snow thrower with 20 foot range. If I got outside while Chris is clearing the driveway, it doesn't matter where I stand. I will be pelted with snow by a force equal to the launch of ten thousand snow balls. The black chute that throws the snow will swivel in circles searching until it locates me. It's like one of those heat seeking missiles. A wife seeking *snow* missile. Once it has locked onto it target, namely, me, it doesn't not matter if I bob or weave or even run in the opposite direction. I will be completely covered from head to toe in an icy white blast. Interestingly, the technology is so sensitive, it even works if I just stand at the window. Perhaps it has face recognition too.

Piece of my heart

This is the title of my all time favorite song, as performed by Janis Joplin, my all time favorite singer. Evidently, this song has also inspired my dog to become a kleptomaniac. Perhaps I should start at the beginning.

Sunday night Chris baked a heart-shaped loaf of English muffin bread as a Valentines day treat. It was cute. It was thoughtful. It was delicious. Well, the first half was delicious. The second half I can't vouch for because my dog somehow got it down off the counter while I was at work on Wednesday. He ate the remaining half loaf of bread. And part of the bag. I suspect he may have had an accomplice. We yelled at him, he acted all guilty and sulked around the house for an hour or two and that was pretty much the end of it. Until yesterday.

Valentines Day. Chris brought home a gigantic heart-shaped cookie and places it on the counter. We each ate a small piece and left to go grocery shopping. Two hours later we returned home to find one overturned paper plate, several small piles of crumbs and one small black dog having what appeared to be a mild psychotic episode in the middle of the living room. Crap. He ate the whole dam cookie! And he knew he was in trouble so he was hiding. Except, he was so ramped up on sugar that he couldn't hold still. So there he stood cowering under the table while simultaneously hopping up and down and wiggling. Chris and I looked at the dog and then, at each other. What is it with this dog and heart-shaped baked goods?

Featured neighbor

People say to me all the time your neighborhood sounds insane interesting! Are all your neighbors as weird as the ones next door? The answer is definitively, yes. And then it hit me. This whole town is a freakin' blog goldmine. Seriously! So effective immediately you can look forward to my "featured neighbor blogs" Each entry will describe one of my other many, many, weird neighbors who, until now, have been unknown to you. This will continue until 1) I run out of neighbors or 2) I'm run out of town. Both outcomes are equally likely. One thing is for sure. If he were still alive, Mr. Rogers would be heading for the hills!

An update is in order

I thought I would take some time off from blogging at Christmas and then a week turned into a month and a half. So here is an update on the latest & greatest:

The gondolas were a smashing success. No little children drowned while racing their tricked out Venetian gondolas down what used to be the gutters over my garage. Phew! It took until late January for me to forcibly coerce Chris to remove the rug he stapled to the ceiling. It is now back in front of the washing machine and true to his word, the holes from the nails are really tiny.

The laundry death shanty has been detached from the side of the neighbor's house. Please note I did not say taken down. I said *detached*. It has now been relocated in it's entirety along with it's contents (one dilapidated washer and dryer) onto a more mobile platform. The walls roof and wood braces are now wedged firmly inside the confines of a tiny trailer. You know, the kind with the sides that fold down? It's now a *MOBILE* death shanty. I can only imagine this thing tethered to the back of a rusted out van skipping down the highway at 70 MPH.


In other news, it is snowing here. And by snowing I mean, we are being buried alive. The snow is up to the mail box. This is our window:
We have to stand on the ledge to see out the top. You know, until the cruel mistress that is winter seals us in for good. I am reminded of that movie march of the penguins. Except where we live makes Antarctica look like something Jimmy Buffet would sing about. Over here on the left you can see our dog. The snow is taller than him so we have to shovel paths though the backyard so he can, um, go. His exact thought at the moment I snapped this photo was "Screw you. I am moving to Hawaii." And who could blame him?