It's Alive. It's Alive

Like Frankenstein’s monster. Like Lazarus rising from the dead. Like, oh forget about any more analogies, you get what I mean. It’s alive. The leaf mulcher has come back to life!

Moments after starting my snow blower for the first time this season in preparation for the inevitable, I decided to try my brother’s suggestion to try to revive the mulcher he had given me last week. He advised forcing the funnel tubing deeper into place on the blower housing by banging it on the garage concrete floor. I flipped the switch and was astounded to hear the powerful motor roar. Astounded that my brother could possibly have been right about something. Well, I guess that’s why he’s the older brother.

Of course, now that it’s working again I will have to resist using it on damp leaves which are all I have for the foreseeable future given Sunday’s drenching. So the wait begins. Which power tool will I use first in the coming week(s), the leaf mulcher or the snow blower? My preference is for the former, but given all the snow that has swirled around upstate and to the west, I’m not too confident my wishes will be met.


We’re hoping to see Finley this weekend, but it all depends on the weather. Dan and Allison would use Uncle Carl’s tickets to the Giants-Eagles game on Sunday, but they won’t bring Finley down from Boston on Saturday if the game day weather is expected to be foul. Right now there’s a 30% chance of precipitation. Arghh!


Saturday morning I saw Emily P. for the first time in several years. She’s a high school sophomore these days, but to me she will always be remembered as the not quite three year old who saved my house from a basement flood.

Emily and her family were over for dinner one stormy Friday night. Now, as I might have mentioned before, Gilda is a really good cook, so when Emily asked for ketchup to make her meal more palatable, we were somewhat caught off guard, all the more so when we discovered no ketchup bottle in the refrigerator. No problem, we keep extra supplies in the basement, said I.

I opened the door, flicked on the light and found two inches of water in the basement (along with the ketchup). After dinner, I vacuumed up the water and shortly thereafter we French-drained the basement which has remained dry except for two notable times when our sump pump lines froze (but that’s a story for another day). I will always have a soft, dare I say, mushy, place in my
heart for Emily.