Please Ignore the Smell, It's just me, the Abominable Snow-Removal-Woman

It's official, I caved. I have officially used the man machine (a.k.a. the snow blower). Who knew a loud, smelly, rumbly machine could become a necessary tool of the snow removal trade.

I was whining about wet snow yesterday and hoping for light, fluffy snow today. Well, I got my wish in the form of about 6-8 inches. Man, I need to be more specific. Surprising fact is, the powder type is not so much fun to remove when you get a bunch of it, and you're already aching from the previous day's encounter.

Bits and I geared up and removed our normal duty area: steps, sidewalk, and parking square. The mounds where I throw my scoops of snow are gaining in such height that I now have to lift the snow shovel above shoulder height to discard. Not cool , not cool.

Mike has to finish grading exams and getting grades in today, leaving an undetermined time when he'll be home. Normally, I say, "Husband, the driveway and area in front of the garage is your responsibility," but my care for him won over. Seeing all that needed to still be done, and knowing how tired he probably already is, I grabbed the funny red key, read the directions carefully, and took "Spitter" for a walk.

The snow blower was very handy, sped up the removal time, and saved some wear and tear on this old lady's muscles. Although I could do without the smell of exhaust in my hair and clothes, I think I may just make another date with "Spitter" and can see this turning into a beautiful friendship.