Flaming Snowblower Update

 So, we found out why our snowblower caught fire, and I think you'll find it ironic.

First of all, I was the only one who ever operated the snowblower. It's important to know that Emily shares none of the blame. It's also important to know that I did not attempt to fix it, so the self-repair restraining order was not violated. Emily, on the other hand, downloaded the user manual (thus bypassing my confused filing system), brought out the variable speed drill I bought for her birthday (I still have a scar), and dug right in.

 As with our vacuum cleaner, the snowblower's belt can be reached through a panel. (My belt can be reached beneath the result of way too many cans of Mountain Dew.) I was actually able to put a new belt on the vacuum cleaner once, and it only took me three days. I figured in this case it had to be either the belt or the motor. When I realized the belt was on the opposite side of where most of the smoke came out, I got a bad feeling.

But we immediately saw the problem. Snow had gotten into the belt/pulley area, then melted a little, then froze solid, and the entire space was now packed with ice. We had to dig it out, then let the thing finish melting and dry off for a day.

 It got a lot of snow on it when I used it, but in it?

In case any of you are as slow as I was: Our snowblower was killed BY SNOW.

But the belt was just fine. So after double checking it, we closed the panel back up, I plugged it in (outside), and pushed the button. It ran for three seconds and died, then smoke started coming out.

Two days later I hurt my back while using a snow shovel.

So I wrote this--again, perhaps ironically--with ice on my back, but my neighbor promised he'd take care of the snow removal. He has a normal sized, gas engine powered snowblower, but it still doesn't sit right by me. I want to do stuff myself! But sometimes, I suppose, I have to admit I can't anymore.

Which doesn't mean I'm not in the market for a new snowblower. Also, as of November the lawn mower is working just fine.

At least, it was. 

 

 

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Remember: Every book you buy relieves my back pain.

 

So, I Set Fire to My Snowblower

 If you've followed me long enough, you've probably heard of the Infamous Exploding Lawn Mower Incident.

But probably not--it happened a very long time ago, when my main social media was LiveJournal. Maybe I'll track it down and reprint it one day. It was quite the tale: mushroom clouds, HazMat response, involvement with both the ATF and the Federal Aviation Administration, a Time Magazine article entitled "Will Flying Lawn Mower Blades Cause Global Cooling?" To this day, it's believed an engine bolt is orbiting Earth.

Really, the only way I could top that would be to set fire to a snowblower.

 

If you can actually see this video, I'll be very surprised and impressed at my technical ability.

It couldn't be as bad as the mower. First of all, the snowblower was electric, and didn't have much power to begin with. That might be what killed it: overwork. this is the first time I ever tried to run it through three foot snow drifts, and I suspect it was designed more for Texans who use them once every five years for a two inch catastrophe.

Besides, it was four degrees, and still snowing. A shovel full from a foot away, and any small appliance fire is out. I've responded to grass fires where I just stepped out of the fire engine and stomped the flames out with my boot--it was like that. Embarrassing. A wafting wisp of smoke, to be poetic.

 

Which doesn't mean the incident won't get bigger and bigger, every time I describe it. By the turn of the decade it will involve a blizzard, the National Guard, and the Space Force zapping parts out of orbit.

What happened? Well, the snowblower acted a lot like my back: It complained mildly, then it screamed in agony, then it stopped working. I put ice on both of them.

I suspect it burned out a belt thingy, as happened last year with our vacuum cleaner. (The snowblower, not my back.) There was smoke then, too. In that case I replaced the broken belt, and it still wouldn't work right. Now we have a new vacuum cleaner that I'm afraid to use.

Will I try to fix the snowblower? Probably not. We got it on clearance, it's four years old, and every light in the house dimmed whenever I plugged it in. I probably should consider myself lucky for not being electrocuted the first time, let alone trying to replace a belt thingy. Besides, I'm only assuming there is a belt thingy.

Now I can only hope there's not another snowstorm this winter, and we all know how my hopes go. Since I'm retiring from dispatch, I figured out how many books we needed to sell to replace the blower, and it comes out to 347, depending on the book. I can do that in a year, but by then we'll probably have to replace the stove.

The good news is that the neighbors on either side of me have real snowblowers, the gas powered kind. They've always been nice to me, at least since the restraining order prevented me from singing outside. 

 I should consider myself fortunate the DHS didn't set up a tent in our yard again--it killed all the grass, last time.

Maybe that was for the best.

 

There's always the traditional method.

 

None of our books have ever been reported as catching fire:

 

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Remember: Most authors are so mechanically incompetent they need book sales to pay for home repairs.

How the Scrinch Loved Christmas ... Songs

 

Years ago I DJ’d part time at a local radio station (which figures into my novel Radio Red). I happened to be working when the boss decided it was time to start the Christmas season with the Gift of Music.

He produced a card file and a stack of CD’s. On each card in the file (no computers -- it was that long ago) was the name of a Christmas song, which we shuffled into randomness. As soon as I saw what happened to fall as the first one, I had my intro.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to get the holiday season under way with WLNB’s selection of Christmas music, and I’ve been chosen for the honor or starting it out. I’m perfectly okay with that, as long as I don’t have to play ‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer’. Now, let’s see what’s on top of our play list ... no. It can’t be. Not that -- anything but that!”

Ah, but it was. And so I started out the Gift of Music with a redneck song about a reckless driving Santa Claus murdering elderly pedestrians.

I never said I was a good part time DJ. Note that I’m no longer employed there.

 

Santas got run over by a fire truck?

I like to be the best combination of Scrooge and Grinch that I can possibly be. For the uninitiated, Scrooge is the old time British fellow who gets scared by ghosts into loving Christmas. The Grinch is the green guy who goes down to Whoville to steal Christmas, but ends up returning everything when the Whoville people start singing happy carols. This begs the question: if the people in Whoville were happy anyway, why didn’t the Grinch just keep the stuff, and sell it on Ebay?

Yep -- two great stories, two bad endings. Just call me the Scrinch. Or Grooge, that would be okay.

 

There are other books, you know.

 

 

 

 I base most of my attitude on either out of control commercialism or people who, themselves, act like Grinches. Yes, I get upset when I see giant plastic Santas on display at Wal-Mart -- in September. But don’t we all get mad when some scumbag burglar steals the Christmas presents right from under someone’s tree?

Christmas all year round might seem like a good idea, but in reality it would make the holiday cheap and ordinary. Put a friggin tarp on the decorations until mid-November, okay? I once went shopping for Halloween, and turned the corner to discover a plastic Frosty giving me a ... well, a frosty look.

As for stealing gifts, vandalizing decorations and such ... not that I haven’t wanted to vandalize decorations, but only when they're lit in October. For everyone else, a public whipping on New Year’s Day should beat the holiday spirit into them.

My point is this: Although I get as angry as everyone else when “Let it Snow” starts playing in the store while people in shorts and tank tops stumble in, wiping sweat from their brows ...

 

I don’t know if I should say it. It might ruin my reputation, and where am I without that? Next thing you know, people will discover I really like animals. But ... okay, complete honesty, here:

I love Christmas music.

People may never look at me the same way again.

 

Christmas is the only thing I look forward to through the months of bitter cold, with nothing but driving snow and black, dead foliage. I hate cold, I hate snow, I hate heating bills, I hate bulky clothes that never warm me up ... but I love Christmas. Colored lights shine through the dull twilight of winter. People actually cheer up a little. Well, some people. And of all the things about Christmas, I love the songs the best.

It doesn’t matter if they’re old or new. Sure, the barking dog Jingle Bells thing grates on me, and I’ve heard versions of “Santa Baby” that make me want to hurl down a chimney. But from Frank Sinatra to Christina Aguilera, nothing perks me up more. What they’ve done elsewhere in their lives, or what other people think of them, doesn’t matter -- I’ll listen to it if it’s Britney Spears, or Barry Manilow.

Old or new? I love “Carol of the Bells” and “The Hallelujah Chorus”, which my choir sang in high school. They didn’t have new Christmas Songs back then. But I’ve got songs in my Christmas library by Faith Hill, the Trans Siberian Orchestra, the Eagles, and, yes, Hannah Montana.

 

Type of music? It’s all Christmas to me. Doesn’t matter whether it's the Bryan Seltzer Orchestra, Jessica Simpson, or Andrea Bocelli. Or that other fella, Tchaikovsky, and his Nutcracker thing. Still, nothing will ever beat the classics, and Bing Crosby is the king of the classics. I may not like white winters, but “White Christmas” will always be close to my half-frozen heart.

So that’s it --  my big confession. I love Christmas music ... almost all Christmas music. As long as the lyrics aren’t being “sung” by pets.

I don’t even mind that great tribute to holiday violence, “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer”.

Much.

 

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Remember to have a Merry Christmas!