What Weekends Do

I like weekends. A lot. I usually need one after five days of working, which generally works out great.
Last Friday, I was in great need of a weekend. After dog-sitting at my parents' for a week, I needed to get out. Remember? And remember how I wasn't supposed to go shopping? I did. On Saturday I did utilize that Michael's gift card, and it was grand, and not too hard on the wallet. Remember how I wasn't supposed to eat out? I did. A friend of mine was having a difficult night, and I gave her a ride home. On the way, she wanted to stop at either McDonald's or Jack-in-the-Box. I thought we could go a little classier than that, and I ended up picking up some dinner for her at Chick-fil-a. Did you know they have diet lemonade there? Technically, that's not diet soda. Of course, technically I had plenty of diet coke the night before at the movie theatre, another place I wasn't going to go.
Now, lest you think I have no willpower and regularly engage in decadent behavior, let me stop you there in your judgmental tracks.
You are correct in thinking, "But Rachel, what happened to all your resolve? Where would we be if our goals and principles didn't matter on the weekends?" And my typically-rigid, Type-A personality would generally agree with you. But the Type B+, living, breathing human doesn't feel a smidgen of guilt, and is just celebrating the progress. Because the movie I went to was a matinee at a theatre where tickets are generally $1 less per show than at other local theatres. The small Diet Coke was enough to sate me for probably a week, and I don't think it's irrational to suggest one soda a week isn't excessive. Materials purchased with my Michael's gift card will facilitate not only my creativity and provide hours of relaxation, enjoyment and artistic stimulation, but also likely provide a later return-on-investment at this year's Boho Babes Boutique when I sell my wares. Or on etsy. We'll see. In short, this was not a shopping-spree-gorge-fest with double-features and 64 oz. soda-- this was a nice, modest weekend with a few fun things recharging my fledgling batteries.
And if you still are feeling high-and-mighty, get over yourself! I gave blood, people! By the way, I love you, United Blood Services! If you're reading this and thinking about giving blood, do it! It's such an easy way to help and does so much good. You feel like a million bucks afterwards, and they give you juice.
You know, I'm really glad that it's easy for me to give blood. When I was younger, the thought terrified me. But after my first donation, I realized I was a blood-donating champ! I've got good veins, and I can fill up the pint-bag in no time. And typically I'm uncomfortable with people acknowledging my service, but talk about gratitude! Whether dealing with UBS or the Red Cross, I've consistently found respective staff members so gracious! No, I don't want one of the t-shirts. It's just nice to be around such friendly people.
If you are a little afraid of the needle stick and need a little extra motivation to give away some bodily fluids, UBS recently launched a program called "Hero in Me" and you can earn rewards like ice cream and movie tickets. Who wouldn't like to go to a free movie (although, I think when I redeem that reward and take someone to a show, I'll see if they'll be willing to spring for popcorn, as I'd already paid for the film with 8 pints of blood... just kidding, though it sounds pretty impressive when you consider the average adult has 10 pints of blood in his or her body).
And speaking of movies, allow me to endorse "Leap Year."


This is what I saw last Friday. It wasn't the most innovative story (by a long shot), but it was charming, and it was PG-- that's refreshing. Another bonus-- I'd forgotten how much I like the name Declan. Maybe if I never get a Jemima I'll give my son a nice Irish-y moniker, different from the ubiquitous Sean, Patrick, Seamus or Liam.
I will admit this-- a problem with weekends, and particularly those where I view most films, is that I'm always left resigned to the difficult truth that I likely won't be happy married to a lad without a nice accent. And so long as I'm still looking, I might as well add that to my list, right? Or at least give him a nice, patchy beard.