Pickles & Dimes

Very early this morning:

Jason: mumblemumble [SWEAR WORD].

Shauna: Shhhhhhh.

Jason: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Shauna: Be quiet!

Jason: And then mumblemumblemumble [SWEAR WORD].

Shauna: Jason, shut UP.

Jason: Hee hee hee hee!

Shauna: Argh, wake UP!

Jason: Why are you talking?

Shauna: YOU were talking.

Jason: Well, what were you doing?

Shauna: SLEEPING.

Jason: Well…so was I.

Shauna: Argh.

Jason: zzzzzzzzzz.

Shauna: [wide awake]

Last night was our first night of dog training. We were a little nervous about being in the regular Level 1 class since Shorty usually barks and/or growls at new people until he determines they’re not a threat to him or us, but once again, he amazed us with his great behavior.

We arrived early and waited in the hallway, where Shorty alternated between trembling in my lap or hiding behind Jason’s legs, while a cute beagle named Stanley attempted to get his attention by issuing solo barks every once in awhile, and a hyperactive black lab named Edmund knocked his treats out of his owner’s hand and all over the floor. We watched a little terrier arrive, followed by a huge white Ridgeback, a sweet Weimaraner and a Cavalier Spaniel.

Once inside, Shorty immediately peed on the floor, even though he had peed maybe 12 minutes earlier outside. As first-timers, we were given our clickers and some one-on-one instruction. The other new person, a woman with an Australian something-or-other named Casey, had to restrain her dog from coming over to investigate Shorty’s delicious-smelling treats: fresh-baked hot dog pieces.

Shorty was great. He just got it. He wasn’t overly distracted by the other dogs or people, and he pretty much reliably performed all of the tasks after a few tries. The only thing we couldn’t get him to do was follow our hand to sit at our side; instead he preferred to just sit in front of us, which the trainer said was all right because the whole point was to have the dog sit so it wouldn’t jump to greet people. When she approached us to see if Shorty would jump up, he sat quietly. “What a good dog you have,” she gushed.

And he was. He sat attentively, learned to respond to his name, held our gaze for 5 seconds, sat quietly when greeted, ignored a treat in our hand, and even eventually ignored a treat covered by our palm on the floor (after initially gouging us with his claws, thinking, “If I can’t get it by looking cute, I’ll take it by force!”). With some practice, next week he might be ready to graduate to Level 2.

It’s a good thing one of the tests isn’t “Keep Dog From Peeing on the Floor.”

Will work for hot dogs.

It snowed yesterday, a fact Jason and I communicated to each other via high-pitched shrieking and mild cursing. It wasn’t enough to stick or anything, but the fact that it was snowing while the wind was gusting at 35 mph made my soul die a little. To compensate, I bought two sweaters, which was surprisingly difficult since the stores only have stupid vests and short-sleeved sweaters or sweaters made of see-through material without buttons or zippers, and what’s with the loose definition of “sweater” this season anyway, fashion world? Mother Nature is slingshotting icy pellets at great velocity, I need SLEEVES.

P.S. I actually bought one of the short-sleeved sweaters. It is pink. I am a hypocrite.

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Jason & I also got new phones. As Luddites, we were unaware that our nearly 5-year-old phones were candidates for the Smithsonian, so when we went to get a new battery, the phone rep said, “Um…why don’t you two just get new phones? Also, they don’t make batteries for those phones anymore.” So Jason got one of the nicer phones and I took the free one. And then Jason tried to remedy a long-standing problem he’s had with his ability to send text messages, and was on the phone for over an hour with technical support, who finally said they’d have to consult with the engineers. And this is why we only use our phones for phone calls.

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We switched sides of the bed last night so I could be closer to the heating vent and Jason could prolong the time until I demand we put on flannel sheets, and we were both pretty excited about it. All day one of us would exclaim, “We’re switching sides of the bed!” and then we’d mentally high five. (We are quite possibly doofuses.) (Also, I was excited because Abby usually requires a few days to get used to the new sleeping arrangements, which means I get a few nights of sleep without having my neck kneaded by a needy feline, except last night not even five minutes had elapsed before she jumped up on my side of the bed and came right up to me purring, all, “You can run but you cannot hide. Now let’s have that neck.”)

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I am down about 10 lbs. from when I started haphazardly exercising, and while I’d like to say it’s because I’m diligent about doing the 30-Day Shred or the fact that I no longer have Mountain Dew, butter and bacon has my daily staples, it’s all a lie. I exercise very little, eat like crap and yet my pants are all dragging on the ground because they no longer have that convenient roll of fat to cling to around my midsection. The only explanation is Shorty. We take him on a nice long walk every evening, and whenever he’s outside in the yard, I play tag with him, which involves him running at me with a tennis ball or rock hanging out of his mouth and me pretending to just miss tagging him.

So there’s my tip for the day: adopt a dog, lose weight!

Fall has been like Cinderella this year, enjoying itself at the ball, taking its sweet time, rewarding us with crisp fall evenings and warm days, while I vacillate between the choice of pants vs. shorts or long sleeves vs. short (always choosing wrong). But midnight is nearing, for fall is now in a gigantic hurry to leave. And the only reason it can’t is because I’ve got a death grip on its leg. Plus, I’m begging.

It’s raining right now and the sound of it hitting the skylights at work is soothing and reassuring, and reminding me that IT’S NOT SNOWING YET, THANK JEEBUS. This weekend, we’ll put away our summer flowerpots, move our unused patio furniture, store our garden hoses, shut off the outside water, place the ice scrapers and jumper cables back into our trunks, and pull the snow blower from the dark back corner of the shed.

And soon we’ll put plastic on our windows, and I’ll start wearing gloves and layers of clothing, and I’ll chug hot chocolate by the quart, and the cold will seep into my bones that not even the hottest bathwater can penetrate.

And then it will be November.

Cheer me up: What’s your favorite winter activity?