This particular snow is the sticks to everything, makes the world look beautiful and weighs more than me variety. The solution? Call hubby and ask him how to start our ancient but incredibly reliable snow blower of course. He chuckled a little at my ambition but humored me anyway and walked me through the process step by step. After two yanks of the pull cord it fired right up. SUCCESS!!
I've got this ... cruising right down the driveway watching the snow be effortlessly thrown out of my path.
I get down to the very end of the driveway and into the street and it happens. The snow blower won't move an inch. When I say an inch I mean an inch. I am pushing and grunting and nothing is happening. Time to call hubby again.
"Hey babe ... shouldn't this thing be doing the work for me? I shouldn't have to be putting all my weight into it just to have it not budge an inch should I?"
"No ... the wheels should be turning"
"Wheels aren't turning and now it stopped running, I'll call you back"
Picture me in the street with a 400 pound snow blower that is dead. My first thought ... check the gas I'm sure it just ran out of gas. Tank has gas in it but it wouldn't hurt to top it off. Ten tugs later and it still wouldn't start. This is not how I planned for this evening to go. And at that very moment my sister pulls up ... yahoo!!
Now picture two blondes stuck in the street with a broken snow blower. Sounds like the start of a really bad joke right? Somehow we got it started again and together we muscled the antique all the way back up the driveway into the garage and ...
Yep ... that explains it. Asking yourself how I didn't notice this before I started or while I was in the street? Yea you and me both. See above about being blonde. You may have won this time Winter but this war is not over. Thankfully I have awesome neighbors who jumped in to finish the job.

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