Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It's to the Gym I Go

Breathe in. Lift! Breathe out. Down.

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Breathe in. Lift! Breathe out. Down.

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Strains of "The Countess Cathleen" from Riverdance hum through my iPod while I concentrate on not killing myself. The breathing is important, or so I've been told. But no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to get the rhythm down.

Sheesh, even when I was delivering Caleb, I couldn't breathe right. Maybe it's a genetic defect. Ooo, then I could blame my parents!

Somehow, my leg curls and extensions get done. They are accordingly marked down in my notebook. Then I move on.

Now Pirates of the Caribbean is blasting in my ears, and I jog in time to the beat on the treadmill. Breathing isn't so important here. I can forget everything else and just run (or walk. . . um, yeah. I like walking). And I remember why I like the gym so much.

I didn't think I would. Like the gym, that is. I joined it in a desperate attempt to be a bit more healthy and to keep the ominous suggestion of Diabetes far far away. But to my surprise and delight, I actually enjoy the gym.

You know why? Want in on the secret? Because for me, the world goes bye-bye when I walk through L.A. Fitness's doors. I get to block everything out. The simplicity of breathing and weight-lifting does wonders for the world-weary soul. Like diving under water, when everything around you becomes muted.

No phones. No instant messenger. No demands. No emergencies. Heck, no one even knows me!

And for an hour and a half, that peace and tranquility is all mine.

Ahhhhh, I love it.

I'm an Auntie!!!

Elizabeth Grace Jackson

born

June 24th, at 11:12 p.m.

7 lbs. 9 oz.

Congratulations, Shawn and Natalie!!! We can't wait to meet her!

"Sons are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from him." Ps. 127:3

Hello Summer

Ahem.

I hate heat.

That is all.

Thank you.

It's 102 degrees here right now, friends. Which explains why I'm at the kitchen table on the lap top instead on in the office on my own computer. . . it's HOT HOT HOT in there right now. Not sure how Jason and I will survive raid night, but somehow we'll manage. :)

Stretching the buck a little bit farther . . .

A little over a month ago, on the advice of several friends, I made my first trip to Henry's Farmers Market. My Friday morning shopping trips haven't been the same since.

I *heart* Henrys.

Jason has had to listen to me rave about it for the last few weeks and now, dear friends, it's your turn. :) Let me tell you just why I *heart* Henrys:

• 2 Sirloin Tip steaks (for a crockpot recipe) $6.30
• 0.70 lb. chocolate covered pretzels $0.60
• 1 onion $0.35
• 1 bag red grapes $3.11
• 1 green bell pepper $0.49
• 1 carton of blackberries $1.50
• 1 lb. of peaches $0.50
• 2 cucumbers $1.18
• 4 pluots (or plums) $1.67

And what did the steak and all that produce come to? A grand total of $15.70. That, my friends, is nothing short of a miracle. I could never have spent so little at Albertsons. I even have my doubts about Trader Joes. Ask anyone. Fresh produce is pricey.

But at Henrys, something magical ocurrs at checkout. You get more bang, or berry, or pepper, for your buck. That's why I *heart* Henrys.

There is a place, however, that I very much do NOT *heart*. A place that I ex-heart.

A place called Arco.

Where I filled up my little 13-gallon, four door Chevy today for $4.49 a gallon. I spent over $60 on gas today, folks. Sixty. 60.

Eeep!

That's a record.

So, in light of the evil gas pump, whose snickering I could almost hear as it sucked up my husband's hard-earned income, can you blame me for jumping for joy when I find delicious places like Henrys and Traders to shop at?

Well, I suppose you could blame me. But I ain't gonna stop. No siree. I'm a-jumping for joy with my steak and fresh produce in both hands.

At least a buck is still worth something somewhere.

Four Years . . .

. . . and counting. Four years ago yesterday, I married my best friend and became Mrs. Jason Neuhauser.

Has it really been four years? Where has the time gone?

Or, as I said to Jay the other day, "We could have gone through high school together by now!"

To which he gave me one of those looks that says, "My, what a silly wife I have!" :)

Happy Anniversary, my love!

And for those of you who are wondering, we're celebrating our four years on Saturday. Mom and Harry are going to watch Caleb, and we're going to spend the day together. Just the two of us. All alone. Well, almost. :) We will be sharing our day with The Natural History Museum as we peruse the Pompeii exhibit, and then with other diners at the Dakota Grill for dinner. But hey, I'm not complaining. A day with my man sounds just about perfect, no matter what we do.

In Which She Brews Some Coffee

A momentous occasion is underway at the Neuhausers this morning.

After nearly four years of marriage, I am brewing my first pot of coffee. Won't you join me? Appropriate attire is required, of course. Pajamas preferred.

Why, you ask, has it taken me four years to brew coffee? Well, one needs a coffee maker before one can make coffee. And I was not in possession of such a machine until a few weeks ago (thank you, Natalie, for saving me from the coffee void!). Oh! the little gurglie sounds are dying down; it's almost done! One moment, please.

*grabs her coffee mug in eager expectation*

-a few coffee scented moments go by-

Ahhhhhhhhh. De-caf with French Vanilla creamer. Hot and blonde. Does life get any better? I'll admit, the coffee's a little strong, but then, I'm new to this whole aspect of SAHM-ism. Less grounds next time. Mmmmmm, next time. I'm already excited!

Too bad Jason doesn't like coffee. Not the taste, not the smell. In fact, he's probably one of the reasons we've been coffee-maker-less these four years. And I'm probably the other one:

I don't do regular coffee much anymore. My body doesn't react too well to caffeine, be it soda, coffee, or otherwise. In my PLNU days, it was Cherry Pepsi and venti Carmel Frappaccinos. Now it's Sprite, Sierra Mist, or 7-Up, thank you very much. But unlike Jason, I still love the taste of coffee. So in an effort to compromise (I like to keep my body happy since, you know, we're attached and all), I drink de-caf.

(I know all you coffee-fanatics are "Pffft!" ing me right now, but that's ok. You Pffft! away and I'll just sit here and drink).

Well now. My mug may be a little emptier, but my day's looking a little brighter. I feel like I can face anything. Just me and my coffee mug.

Saturday Good-Byes and Monday Molars

We went very dutifully to Greg and Amy's Saturday morning on the unpleasant business of helping them move. The morning dawned bright and beautiful, a perfect May-almost-June day; too perfect, really, for us to be saying good-bye to our good friends. The ridiculous price of living in southern California (among other things, like, you know, a prompting from the Lord) is chasing them out-of-state. They are moving to Nevada.

I remember over a year ago, helping them move into this apartment. They were so excited for a two bedroom place; previously, they'd been sharing their tiny bedroom with baby Josiah, who was quite possibly the lightest sleeper in the world. Now they are expecting little Ezekiel in August, and are hoping to find a three bedroom near Vegas (where Amy's family lives).

My contribution to the efforts, other than watching small children and keeping them off stairs and away from moving furnature, was to hold the elevator door open while the menfolk moved boxes from the 2nd story to the truck.

Caleb soon tired of being cooped up in the apartment, so he decided to join the men as they marched back and forth. Doors being left open for the ease of moving heavy objects, there wasn't much I could do to prevent him. But, as Jason assured me, having Caleb part of the action was a good thing. He cheerleaded the guys as they moved stuff out, and hitched rides on the dolly on the way back in. All around a cheerful morning for the Bud, until. . .

Mommy and Miss Amy remembered that Caleb still needed a haircut. His first haircut, to be precise. Amy's been cutting Josiah's hair for months now, and I asked, in the bustle of the move, if she thought she'd have a minute to cut Caleb's.

Well, she did, so we did, and Caleb DID NOT like it. Not one bit. Not sure which was worse, the snip-snip sound of some unseen instrument, or the fact that Mommy was holding him still. But the hair is cut, and the boy is cute! Cuter even, if you can believe that, and so grown-up! So "little boyish." *sniff sniff*

Yes, yes, I can hear you clamoring for pictures now. And I will post some. Soon. Promise. Just as soon as my Mommy brings me back my camera. ;) Ah, that's always my excuse, isn't it? But this time, as indeed with all the others, it's true.

In the meantime, Caleb's four molars are still making their way into his mouth. Teeth sure do take their time, don't they? Sheesh! He's been trying to bust these out for nearly a month. In fact, I have decided to blame them for Caleb's fever and clinginess this morning, and for the fact that he's taking a "spotted" nap this afternoon. Spotted nap meaning he wakes up and goes back to sleep several times, instead of just sleeping straight through. Poor little guy!

More later, friends. Happy Monday!

Just a little bit o' luvin'

Ever tried to vaccuum with an arm full of pillows? No? Then you've never had a toddler.

Ever found Lightning McQueen in your underwear drawer and knew immediately how he came to be there? No? Then you've never had a toddler.

Ever memorized a library-full of storybooks simply because you've read them so. many. times.?

No?

Then you've never been a Mom.

This is for my son, the eater of sponges, the driver of all things wheeled, the explorer of every drawer and shelf, the collector of rocks, the connessiuer of Veggie Tales, the joy and laughter of my days.

I love you. :) I'm so glad I get to be your Mommy.