Time's fun when you're having flies

Yesterday, we had a "winter event," or at least what passes for one in South Carolina. Five inches of snow fell at my house, more than last year at this time, which was more than, well, apparently any day in the eight years previous. As a result, the area bus line suspended service until 10:00 in the morning. No way am I taking my own car out in a mess like that, so I spent my morning at home.
The most jarring upset to my morning schedule was walking the dog. Ginny generally wants to get out the door as soon as she gets up, which is around 6:00 these days. Yesterday, however, she slept until almost 7:00. I got bundled up, got her downstairs, got the leash on, opened the door... and she took one look at the Great Outdoors and decided she didn't want to go for a walk after all.
I know that the walk takes up a good chunk of my morning schedule (30-40 minutes, if we get a full walk in), but I hadn't really appreciated that time until we didn't do it. I ate a leisurely breakfast (usually it takes about three bites), did the readings that I had planned to do at school, washed the dishes that I normally save for when I got home, started a load of laundry... and it still wasn't 7:30.
There was a point to this story, but it has slipped my mind.

Nothing To Fear If You've Got the Gear

Soap: check.
Towels: check.
Hose: check.
Old clothes: check.
Running shoes: check.
Leash: check.
Escape routes blocked: check.
Reward treats: check.

If bathing the dog is this much fun, I can't wait for kids.

Bad Dog No Biscuit

On yesterday's walk, we saw the dreaded UPS truck. Ginny saw it before I did, so I had to be reactive in getting her to calm down. Actual transcript of events:
Me: Okay, settle down. Sit.
Ginny: Howl!
M: Sit...
G: Howl!
M: Sit!
G: Howl!
(repeat 6x)
M: That's enough! Sit!
G: (stares blankly)
M: Sit. Down. Now.
G: (does not sit)
M: Do as you're told! Sit down!
(I push on the dog's hindquarters, forcing her to sit)
M: Good g-
G: (ceases sitting)
M: No! Sit!
G: (blank stare)
(I repeat the attempt to force her to sit. Ginny splays her back legs and pushes back, foiling me)
(I attempt an old trick Mom taught me, putting my arm behind her back legs and sweeping it forward. Ginny is apparently familiar with this trick)
M: Ginny, sit down.
G: (attempts to wander off)
M: We're not going anywhere until you sit.
G: (stares, having apparently not learned English. Willful ignorance, if you ask me)
M: Sit down...
(repeat for 5 minutes)
M: Sit.
G: (sits)
M: Thank you. Good dog.
(We sit for a few seconds, then resume our walk, my goal of calming the dog having been achieved in spite of me)

Argh.

Help Me, Cesar Milan, You're My Only Hope

Sharp-eyed surfers may have already noticed that the photo to the right contains a fuzzy blob with its head in a dish. That blob is Ginny, and she wants little more from life than to be fed, and walked, and to occasionally chase squirrels, and maybe sing a little Biz Markie. She tries very hard to be a good dog, and for the most part, she succeeds. However, we run into two problems on our twice-daily walks:

1. The Train. The road where we normally walk runs near train tracks, and we get a lot of railroad traffic. Ginny is not a fan of loud noises, so when we hear the train approaching, she begins to pull at the leash (an apparent attempt to move faster, though she's never concerned about whether or not we're actually moving away from the train). When the train goes by, she begins to howl, and really starts fighting the leash. Telling her "no" just leads to more howling. Usually, she settles down after the train is gone, but it's near-impossible to avoid the train traffic in this area.

2. The UPS Truck. Ginny's reaction to the train is a nuisance, but her reaction to Big Brown is... kind of scary. She'll bark at lots of large vehicles (the garbage truck, the school bus, the neighbor's F-350) from the safety of the yard, but on our walks, they don't even get a second glance. Not so the UPS truck, which transforms mild-mannered Ginny into the Fourth Head of Cerberus. She tries to tear the leash out of my hand, alternately lowering her body to get more levarage, and then leaping into the air. Meanwhile, she howls and snarls in a show of anger usually reserved for my mom's dog. Scolding is useless at this point - the ears have been turned off. I'm not worried that she'll hurt me, or even the UPS guy (she lets him scratch her behind the ears, as long as she can keep barking at his truck), but she has on several occasions pulled her collar so tight or gotten so tangled in the leash that she starts choking, and if she does manages to get away from me, she will chase the truck heedlessly into traffic (as she did once when the gate to the backyard was left open).

So, dog whisperers, any ideas? Let's assume that beating the dog is not an option.
Trivia questions later tonight...