Winter, Blech, Poo…
When you’re a kid in the north, you love snow. You play in it, build forts, have snowball fights, and go sleigh riding. And when the siren would sound in the early morn, you knew that meant one glorious thing of things… NO SCHOOL!!!
When you’re an adult in the north, unless you’re a skier, you HATE the snow. You have to walk in it, drive in it, and worst of all, shovel it.
This winter has been a record amount of snowfall in the northeast, and this past week we had over two feet in my area. (That’s above the knees on a 5’8” inch Polack for those of you who need visual aids.) I have no snow blower so the entire family was relegated to shoveling, and shoveling, and shoveling, and shoveling. For two days it wouldn’t stop and for two days we’d shovel, take a break, wait for a few more inches to accumulate, then 
shovel some more. Parts of my body hurt that have never hurt, and muscles I didn’t even know I had are aching.
The one enjoyable thing was that after each shovel, my break consisted of a premium, handrolled cigar. And as you just might imagine, I smoked a serious amount of fine stoags. My wife, who remember, hates smoke, was mystified, “How the hell can you smoke like this after all that exercise and heavy lifting?” She doesn’t get it and she never will: Because it relaxes me. The flakes were huge and they came down hard as I sat in my lawn chair and puffed an El Rey Del Mundo Flor de Llaneza. As much as I have become accustomed to loathing the white stuff, when it comes down heavy like it was, with flakes as big as silver dollars, it’s hard to deny that it is a beautiful site, and thoroughly mesmerizing as you take a draw and then exhale into the flurry of madness.
There is little doubt that when the winter is about over that I will indeed purchase a snow blower that is placed on sale. It’s one of those things that I put off and put off… and yeah, Jack f@#king Frost bit me in the ass, for sure. I hate that little prick.
Winter was in full gear as I watched much of the Olympics – incredibly happy with the play of the US Hockey team, although pained by the loss to a stronger opponent that our boys gave one hell of a scare. In case you’re a commie bastid and didn’t happen to watch the game, Team USA scored with 24 ticks left on the clock to tie it, putting the entire country of Canada on suicide alert. But the group with the red leaf on their jerseys won in overtime, averting the greatest single loss of life in the great white north. Our four-man bobsledders won our first gold in 62 years, the two ski hotties, Mancuso and Vonn entertained us, there was a brutally flaming gay figure skater who wore nicer outfits than most chicks I know, and Shaun White whipped his flying tomato about for another gold medal and an increase to his ten million dollar a year pay check. Not too bad for a 23 year old “dude.” And then last night in the closing ceremonies there were giant inflatable moose, beavers, old-time table hockey guys… and of course, Canada’s greatest national treasure… Michael J. Fox.
But I say thanks to the Lord above that tomorrow I will be in Los Angeles California, 11:35am left coast time. Going on business but will be enjoying the hell out of all the palm trees.
So I’ll speak with you all in a week. And for those of you in the frozen tundra, I’ll be thinking of you.
Tommy Z.
JR Cigars Blog With the Zman
