Atmosphere electric as battle waged against snow

SNOMAGEDDON – A Columnist’s Diary of Survival.

The biggest snowstorm of the new century begins on Wednesday with a soft flurry and the blaring ringtone from my cell phone.

“Will you be home later so I can pick up that snowblower?”

Oh, crud. It’s Jeff Peterson, my pal and bass-playing bandmate.

Last summer, when the air was filled with butterflies and bumble bees, I sold Jeff my big gas-powered, chains-over-the-tires snowblower.

“But it is cold and snowing now,” I say, beginning to whine. “I’m not sure it was such a great idea to sell you my blower.”

“Be by later,” Jeff replies.

•The snow continues to fall at an alarming rate. I haven’t seen this many flakes since the ’80s, when I had to cover the Idaho state Republican convention.

I need another snowblower and I need it fast.

I call my buddy Scott Cooper. He sold me the aforementioned snowblower from the stockpile of items he keeps and recycles from his South Hill Hauling business.

Cooper calls his warehouse of salvaged merchandise Scottco.

Good news. “I have one snowblower left,” he tells me, “and it has you written all over it.”

•Cooper arrives an hour later. Oh, boy. I should have known. Last year, he sold me a ridiculous snow shovel on a giant wheel called a Wovel. That quickly proved to be more useless than Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich.

This time Cooper brings me a snowblower roughly the size of a dust mop. Furthermore, it has a cord dangling from the handle.

“An electric snowblower? Aw, I’m gonna look like a prize sissy with that thing.”

Cooper grins like a jackal. “I told you it had you written all over it.”

•Evening falls. Local TV is trying to beat the blizzard into submission with an assault of nonstop accu-storm tracker/team coverage.

The weathercasters look happier than Oprah at a pie tasting. In one segment, Tom Sherry, KREM’s wildly popular and always entertaining weather guy, gets so excited that he claims New Year’s Eve is Jan. 31.

No biggie. Actually, that would be considered a direct hit by weather forecast accuracy standards.

•I awake Thursday to the radio regurgitating storm-caused closures. Even the government has shut down, proving that every cloud really does have a silver lining.

And the snow keeps on dropping.

Time to put my electric snowblower to the test.

The good news is that Cooper only charged me 20 bucks. The bad news is what this appliance might do to my Avista bill.

That reminds me …

Q. What’s the difference between a vulture and an Avista executive?

A. A vulture won’t strip your flesh until after you’re dead.

I hook three extension cords together and hit the switch.

“Zeeeee …”

My Norelco razor sounds more intimidating.

An hour of blowing. I’ve barely made a dent. Some neighbors shuffle by on snowshoes. Good to see somebody’s having fun.

Using an electric snowblower is like digging to China with a coke spoon.

•Friday arrives. The storm looks spent but it’s time to face the hard facts. I’m running dangerously low on Diet Coke.

I’m going to have to set out for provisions. Unfortunately, the area where my car is parked looks like a toboggan slope.

I don’t need a psychic to forecast my future. Spokane’s Lord of the Cord will be blowing more snow the electric way.

Back in the house I hear a radio report. Subzero temperatures are coming, followed by more snow.

I knew we should have bought a new dog to replace our beloved and departed old cockapoo, Elvis. Dogs are loyal and cuddly. Dogs will share their body heat with you.

Plus when you run out of food you can always eat them.

•Today is the first day of winter. We’re doomed.