Saturday, March 28, 2009

Why I took a three hour nap on Saturday

Sometimes, I have temporary lapses in sanity, and in those moments, I decide that it would be a good idea to volunteer myself for additional responsibilities at work, church, or around the neighborhood. During my bouts of insanity, I forget that I am the world's biggest perfectionist, especially when it comes to my job, and I convince myself that I will be able to handle it all with ease.

A few months ago, when my school asked me to teach the English portion of an evening SAT Prep class for five weeks in the spring, it honestly seemed like a good idea. Well, I could use the money! Well, it'll be winding down to the end of the year, so I'm sure I won't have as much going on...

So, I agreed.

Stupid Rachel.

Tuesday, I spent 15 hours at the school: 7 a.m. to 10 p.m.
Thursday, I spent 14 hours at the school: 7 a.m. to 9 p.m.
I was working the entire time. I didn't even stop for lunch--or dinner.

I don't think this was a good idea.
Oh well!! Only four more weeks!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

I'm an aunt!!

My older sister had her baby this weekend; it is so exciting, especially since she is the first of both Ryan's and my siblings to give us a little rug rat to spoil!! The first photo I saw of him, it was instant obsession. He has my sister's nose; how could I not immediately love him??

Here he is:

His name is Callum Michael McKenna. Apparently, Callum is a common name in Ireland and Scotland (as is McKenna), and Michael is my dad's name.

My dad hadn't planned on going to see the baby for a couple of weeks, but it seems that the first photos of Cal had the same effect on my father as they did on me: My dad hopped on a plane and surprised my sister for a two-day visit. He'll go back in a few weeks and stay for about a week.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Gotta love blunt people...

Deborah has been really sick the past couple of weeks, so this evening, I called her and asked if I could bring by some dinner. (I made chicken enchiladas last night and had several left over.)

She excitedly agreed.

Fifteen minutes later, she called back and left me this message: "Hi, Rachel. I invited my daughter, her boyfriend, my brother, and my mom. So make sure you bring enough. If you can. Bye."

Blunt--but endearing. :)

All I had was an 8x8 pan, so I figured they'd have to make due.

When I actually brought the meal, Deborah's brother answered the door and greeted me with, "Dang, Rachel, you've really put on some weight!"

Not exactly the welcome I was hoping for, but I chuckled a little and said, "You're probably right, Chuckie."

His response? "Probably right? No, I am definitely right. Girl, you look a lot heavier."

At this point, I probably should've taken my enchiladas and stalked back to my car in a huff--but I had to remind myself that, to Deborah and her family, that comment might not be considered an insult.

Gotta love blunt people.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Okay, so I exaggerated...

Thanks to all of you who read my recent massive rant about bad experiences at the gym.

I have to admit, I have never actually stopped at Dunkin' Doughnuts after the gym--that was added for dramatic effect--but I have wanted to pleeenty of times! And, surprisingly, I do usually make it more than 10 minutes running on the treadmill--but it is never a pretty sight.

The rest of it was 100% true--even the Food Channel. I really do hate that place.

The good news? It was actually warm enough today (okay, well, it wasn't at all warm--but at least it wasn't freezing!) for me to run outside. That makes me so much happier than the gym.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Why I hate the gym

I arrive excited to work out--proud of myself that I've made it here--sure that I am going to burn some serious calories and trim down my rather manish legs.

Jogging up the stairs to the Cardio Room, I consider which machine I will do first: the treadmill or the elliptical. The treadmill, I decide, since it always wears me out. I'll follow that up with a slow workout on the elliptical, and I'll be good to go.

But as I enter the Cardio Room, I stop dead in my tracks.

Every single machine in the place is in motion. Not only do I not have an option between a treadmill and an elliptical--I have no options at all. Even the lame stair stepper in the corner is in use.

The man at the front desk once told me that the gym gets the busiest at the beginning of March.

"Why?" I'd asked.

"Spring Break," he'd responded. "I guess people think that a few weeks of working out will help them squeeze back into their bikinis."

Stupid bikinis, I think, standing against the wall and waiting for a machine to open up. I hate waiting.

As the minutes pass, I start to become impatient, and as I become impatient, I also become mean and overly critical. Why would someone come to the gym to walk on a treadmill? She's not even breaking a sweat because she's too glued to her dumb Twilight book, I scoff smugly, just sure that my workout will put hers to shame.

Still waiting...

Reaching back to adjust my pony tail, I feel something unexpected at the nape of my neck. Dang it. My shirt is on inside out, and I have a conspicuous tag sticking out. Oh that's just great, but there's no way I am losing my spot in line to go to the bathroom to turn it right side out.

Fiiiinnallly, a treadmill opens up, and I make a beeline for it, before someone else grabs it. It's not the ideal machine--the television seems to be broken and stuck on only one channel, and the skinny girl beside me is wearing spandex capris and a sports bra (who wants to work out next to that?)--but it's better than nothing.

After hanging my sweatshirt by the hood on the back of the television, I get going at a slow jog and put in my head phones. To my dismay, the channel that the T.V. is stuck on is...The Food Channel. Yes, the Food Channel. Somehow, jogging to scenes of homemade pizza, chocolate chiffon pie, and fettucine alfredo seems somewhat counterproductive, and I soon find myself salivating and plotting a pit stop at Dunkin' Doughnuts on the way home.

As I huff and puff at my 6 mph pace, coughing and dying and embarassing myself, I sneak a quick glance at the timer of Miss Spandex next to me. Dang it, I think, noticing that she's been running 8 mph for 50 minutes and has burned 800 calories. Go home, Skinny, you're going to look just perfect in your bikini!

She pretends not to notice me looking at her stats but nonchalantly increases her speed a little.

I turn back to my t.v. and try to ignore her.

A commercial for Ghirardellis new peanut butter squares flashes across my screen, and I remove my earphones and pull the hood of my sweatshirt down to cover the t.v. so I can no longer be tormented.

This really is torture.

After a mere 10 minutes, I find myself walking at a pace slower than the Twilight girl, wondering what happened to the ambition I came to the gym with.

Oh well...time for Dunkin' Doughnuts.