The Adventures of Mr. Snowman

He was born on the day after Christmas 2010 around 11:30 in the morning. He quickly grew to about two feet, a toothy grin on his face as he jauntily tipped his hat to the ladies (or lady, as it were). I ran inside to get my camera and came back out to find him so bereft at my departure that he was threatening drastic action by sliding perilously close to the edge of my truck hood.

"Don't do it, you cad," I said, shoving him back closer to the windshield. "There's no need to be so dramatic."

I formulated a quick relocation plan to which he responded by spitting a tooth out at me and losing an eyeball. "Mr. Snowman..." I warned. I safely deposited him in the nearby flower bed and performed a hasty reattachment procedure to restore him to his former health. He thanked me by tipping his pie pan hat to me once more. I left him there to stand guard over the foot path in my absence. Poor guy... kind of a rough first day in the world.

My ensuing snow-capped adventures included a brisk walk through our Winter Wonderland during which I discovered that while my snowball making skills have greatly improved, my snowball throwing skills still leave something to be desired. After numerous failed attempts to hit trees, realty postings, and a stop sign, I realized that my chances of being able to hit the broad side of a barn were slim. One would think having survived DC's epic blizzard earlier in the year, I would have honed such skills, but alas, my aim remains disastrous. I guess we can't be good at everything, can we, Mr. Snowman?