Heyas,
Am currently collapsed on my armchair, sucking down water like it's going out of style and debating on whether it's worth the pain of getting out of said armchair to crawl to the shower for some blessed relief of hot water pounding down on my muscles.
Jillian Michaels is the spawn of Satan. I'm sure of it.
But I can't complain, because she's actually working for me.
But damn, I HURT (the good kind of hurt, though...not the 'oh, I'm injuring myself here' kind of hurt, so yay!).
Had a fun time of it this weekend...and by fun, I mean a spate of adreneline-fueled panic wherein I spent at least twenty minutes literally just breathing out "OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGod,gonnadiegonnadiegonnadiegonnadie,ohshit,ohshit,ohshit,ohshit" and clenching my teeth together so tightly that my jaw ached for an hour after it was all done.
I tend to throw Marley in the car and go down to my mother's house for the weekends...it's fun, and it's been several years since I could DO that, so I'm taking advantage these days. Unfortunately, when I did that this Friday, it was during what was apparently Old Man Winter's death rattle. Everything started out fine...it was spitting some snow as we pulled out of my apartment complex, but nothing major.
And then we get about half an hour down the highway, and DAY-UM! Snow is pouring out of the sky, covering the roads, and piling up quicker than the snowplows can deal with. The lines on the road vanish, traffic slows down to a crawl and I almost slid off the road four times in a ten minute period. At one point, I was driving down an incline and I felt the tires literally leave the road, and realized that my car was SLIDING down the incline on top of the ice and snow that had collected on the road.
That, incidentally, was the start of the "Oh God, gonna die, oh shit!" mantra that filled my car for a good long while afterwards. Marley, bless him, seemed to realize that Mama needed to concentrate and obligingly laid down in the back rather than popping up in my rearview mirror every thirty seconds like he usually does. So yeah, not fun.
Fortunately, my father and stepmother live in the city about halfway between me and my mother. I was gonna try to make it all the way to Mom's, but the snow very quickly put paid to that plan...ended up calling Dad and asking if I could crash at his place. I mean, I SAY I "asked" but only 'cause it's polite to do so...no way they were gonna send me on my way, or anything. Turned out to be a rather fun time, 'cause they had my nephew (stepsister's kid) for the evening.
I haven't had much of a chance to bond with him, as I lived in another state for the first two years of his life, and I'm not especially close to my stepsisters anyway (no animosity...just I don't have a lot in common with them, and our paths only cross at family functions). Frankly, the kid's always been a little wary of me. Getting to play with him one on one (my dad and stepmother had had him all day and were all to happy to turn over entertainment duties) was nice, and by the end of the night he was laughing and carrying on and calling me "Aunt Neek" (which is closer to my name than either of my sisters managed when they were his age).
And I got some reassurance about Marley's ability to deal with children. I think I MAY have mentioned this once or twice, but Marley's pretty big. And still in that puppy stage where he's got mad energy, and none of his limbs seem to quite work together, so he's a bit of a clumsy oaf (but he's my clumsy oaf, and I love him). I worry about how he's gonna handle the Imp (if all goes well, he'll be about two and a half when the Imp gets here)...and he didn't acquit himself well upon the start of the evening. As soon as he got through the door and saw nephew, he lunged at the kid and scared the crap out of him.
Marley just wanted to sniff, I'd like to clarify. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body, I don't worry about him biting anyone...but, yeah, he's a Labra-Horse and he has no idea how big and strong he really is.
Nephew was understandably leery of Marley (who outweighs nephew by about forty pounds and is several inches taller, besides) the rest of the night, but Marley entertained himself by wrestling and playing with my stepmother's dog (some little terrier mix). Eventually, nephew seemed more fascinated than scared (especially when he saw me doing Marley's hand signals for sit, lie down, etc. There's something frickin' hilarious about a tiny little two year old making a hand signal and going "Sit! 'Tay!"). Aaaany road, nephew finally gets his courage up the next morning, and while Marley was again playing with stepmother's dog, nephew runs over and pats Marley (a bit enthusiastically...I heard the thump from across the room) on the backside before either myself or my stepmother could intervene. Marley, startled out of his game, WHIRLS around, and makes like he's gonna pounce on nephew.
And again, NOT in a vicious way. He never growled, or raised his hackles, or showed his teeth, or laid his ears back...trust me, I know what an "angry" dog who's about to attack looks like. Marley wanted to play and thought nephew had asked to join in the fun.
But yeah, there's that whole "outweighs nephew by forty pounds and is several inches taller, besides" to consider.
So, with visions of Marley happily, casually, CONCUSSING my nephew dancing through my head, I holler out, "Marley GENTLE!" (his command I use when he gets a little too enthusiastic taking stuff I offer him out of my hand). And Marley glances over at me, cocks his head, and his whole demeanor suddenly changes. He drops his head a little, a stands perfectly still while my nephew 'pats' him on the shoulder and face. Then he very gently butted his head up against nephew's chest (which nephew thought was HILARIOUS), and went back to his wrestling game with the other dog.
And nephew decided right then and there that Marley was the best thing ever, and didn't leave him alone for the rest of the time we were there. He started calling him "Mar-lio" and at one point, grabbed the end of Marley's leash (I'd left it on in case I had to suddenly grab Marley and haul him back from something) and started running around the living room, yelling out: "I walk Mar-lio! I walk Mar-lio!" And proceeded to drag Marley all over the house (with me following and discreetly holding the leash down by Marley's collar...my dog was being a gem, but we're still working on leash etiquette). It was pretty frickin' adorable.
And very nice for me to see Marley play so gently and patiently with a kid he's not really had a lot of exposure to. Marley's gonna be a fabulous dog for the Imp when he/she is old enough to run and romp and play...but I really worry about how Marley will react to a small, screaming bundle that suddenly takes up all my attention and time.
I'm encouraged by his interactions with newphew, though.
Tertiary note to everything: Am I the only one who gets creeped the hell out by the new salsa commercial with the little fairy girl with the freakin' blades in her fan who runs around slicing up innocent vegetables?
Seriously, that little smirk at the end, and the way she just whips out the SHINY FAN OF DEATH???
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