No Heimlich for me, thank you.

I had to post this because I keep thinking about it and laughing. On Saturday night after Mazee was all snug in bed, Jake and I cuddled up on the couch with our treats (Sour Patch Kids, Chocolate Covered Peanuts, and Tootsie Rolls) to watch Don't Mess With The Zohan, which we ended up turning off halfway through. (Stupidest/Most Pervy movie EVER! Don't rent!) As throats & tongues are known to do, I swallowed. Not my candy or water, just plain old spit. That spit took the road less traveled and holy cow, I could not breathe. I was wheezing and wheezing, barely able to get a cough out. I know you know what I'm talking about, it happens to everybody. I sat up trying to get more air, and within seconds Jake had me on my feet, standing behind me, with fists clenched over my abdomen which = Heimlich maneuver. All the while, I'm vigorously shaking my head trying to get him to understand that I'm not choking on substance, and envisioning my ribs being crushed by Jake's life saving efforts. Finally, he takes notice of my shaking head and lets his hands down. I slowly got my air back and then we laughed our heads off at how quickly and how seriously he was about doing the Heimlich. I feel like I should come up with a song for Jake like, "You know who to call....Ghostbusters!" I might dare say that he could get to you fast enough, I witnessed his lightning quick reflexes. He's a good one to have around.