12.25.2006

Santa's on the roof...

I’ve always been a sucker for Santa. I believed in Santa Claus until I was at least 12 years old. I mean, how couldn’t I? All the signs were there.

For one, dad said there was a Santa. And let me tell you something, when I was a kid, I believed EVERYTHING dad told me. (Sometimes I still do.) Once, or twice, he even told me that when the cows are near the fence it means it was going to rain. How could I not believe him? After all, everytime he mentioned it, it did happen to be pretty cloudy at the time.

Secondly, Santa always called my brother and I every year – sometimes even twice a year. Unfortunately, he would call only when no one was home, so I never got to talk to him personally. But that didn’t make him any less real. Ironically, he would only call when my brother I started getting in trouble a lot but it all made sense. Santa can see everything.

Okay, so maybe my little brother was right – Santa did sound a lot like dad. But there just couldn’t be no Santa. I mean after all, every Christmas Eve, the local newscasters talked about how Santa was coming. If Santa wasn’t real, there is NO way they would put it on the news. The news people have to print the truth right? Besides if there was no Santa where do all the Santa letter go? (Note: I got the answer to that question three years go at the local newspaper.)

Lastly, there just had to be Santa because we always left cookies for him every Christmas Eve and when we woke up the next morning there would be nothing but crumbs. And that proved Santa was not dad because Dad can’t eat cookies. He’s a diabetic and obviously, Santa isn’t.

Nevertheless I believed in Santa until Dad and Mom had to break the news to me during my pre-teen years. They went ahead and told me because my younger brother figured things out.

But I tell you I just can’t fathom to this day that maybe there really is a real Santa. Every night before Christmas when I go to sleep I think about how I might be able to hear Santa on top of the roof. Now wouldn’t that be cool?

12.22.2006

I love my job, but...

I love my job but I have to say I am so happy to be off for the next week. I have been working non-stop for the past two months. Hence why this thing hasn’t been updated frequently.

For those of you who don’t know what I do, I write and help design a catalog for a major department store. I also write the copy for the internet. It might sound boring which I thought it would be when I applied for the job about a year ago. But actually I find it just as satisfying as my old job as a reporter.

When I was a kid I was always into clothes and fashion. I picked up the interest again after I found this job. Now I am able to use my skills as a writer and a designer to do something I like.

So I work with a team of other copywriters, layout artists and art directors to put together these catalogs. There are about 18 of us on my team. It’s a lot more work than you would ever believe. It takes us about 2-3 months to get out an average catalog of 100 pages. There are a lot of things that have to be right like the prices, fabric content, etc., so there are a lot of checkpoints involved.

When I step back and think about it, it’s almost amazing how we can put together a catalog in such a short amount of time. There’s the planning of what will be on each page. Then we have to obtain the sample of the items so the model can wear it. Speaking of models we have to obtain the models and set up a shoot somewhere to take the pictures. Accessorize the product. Get the pictures taken. Touch up the photos. Reshoot if something didn’t come out well. Get the specs from the supplier. Write the copy. And that’s about half of what we do. We even have people who stay in the dark room all day to make sure the items are true to its color in the catalog. It’s a lot of work, but I’m glad I’m part of the team. I believe at one point this month our team was working on 700 pages at once. Not to mention Internet items we had to get up.

People ask me all the time if I miss newspaper. Yeah, I miss the fun of doing the hot news story. And sometimes I wish I could just go out there to a scene of crime and start asking questions. But at the same time I have fun putting these catalogs together. I can’t wait until we finish a book to see the end product. I love writing copy for the dresses online, especially writing for the prom dresses.

I’m not sure how long I’ll want to do this, but I am sure happy about it now.

12.06.2006

It's time to take a stand

Ok, so I’m going to say it. It’s time to take a stand against these people who seem to be attached to their pets. I think it’s time for the legislators to intervene. This is getting a bit ridiculous.

Since when are dogs allowed in Blockbuster? Here I am in line renting my DVD when I look to my right and instead of seeing a woman holding baby, she was holding her little dog. I can just hear some of you now “Aww, how cute.”

NO, it is not cute. Since when do you need to bring your dog to help you pick out a movie. Is he going help you pick out your clothes now?

Oh wait, I’m sorry, he probably goes to pick out his own clothes, since he was wearing a blue sweater. You know there’s a line in between being cute just plain crazy.

I don’t have a problem with people having pets and walking them outside, or having them at places where pets are readily accepted like the park.

But a line needs to be drawn. Dogs should not be allowed in Blockbuster. For goodness sake, roll your window down and leave the pet in the car! You shouldn’t be in the store for more than 15 minutes anyway.

I’ve seen (at my old job) and heard (at mother’s job) of people bringing their dogs to work with them. You can’t bring your children to work so why the hell would think it would be ok to bring your dog to work? Big or small, a dog shouldn’t roaming around the work place sniffing people.

Also while I’m on the subject, pets shouldn’t be allowed to eat at a restaurant. (I’m referring to a recent Dallas Morning News article, about restaurateurs near Lower Greenville allowing pets to eat with their owners.)

I’m sorry but if I want to go out to eat, I don’t want to look to my left and see some damn dog sitting a couple of feet from me slobbering at the table, eating his food and probably looking at my food too. No, that is so unsanitary and just plain gross.

If only some people would take care of their kids as well as they take care of their pets.

It’s time for legislators to take some actions and make some laws against where pets should and should not be allowed.

12.01.2006

Kids make me sick - no really

Ok, so I’ve been sick for almost a week and I’m thoroughly convinced it was due to the kids. Yes the kids. I'm talking about the kids that kept bouncing around me, hugging up on me and screaming all throughout Thanksgiving.

“I love you Shacee,” the two-year-old said in her through her baby teeth as she hugged me so tight around the neck, I thought I was going to croak. “I love you too,” I said thinking in my head “so much that I will never have children.”

Now I lie in the bed, unable to breath, sore throat and my ears are so closed up I can barely hear. Just another reinforcement – I NEVER WANT KIDS.

11.22.2006

The Grinch

November 22. For me, it means the start of what seems like longest holidays ever that I wish we could just skip to January 2, but still get those days off from work.

I know I should be getting into my little jolly ol’ spirit like St. Nick, but I just don’t truly get excited about the holidays like other people do. Believe me not, I fake it especially when I’m at work because I don’t want to give these people the inkling that I just might the Grinch that stole Christmas (after all I’ve barely been there for a year now, let me move up a couple of positions first before I start showing my true identity).

I’m just not excited about carving the turkey. Well I don’t like turkey. I’m not excited about eating really anything this holiday. Hell truth be told, I don’t really like eating that much. (I just enjoy the experience at the restaurants.)

Then there is aspect of spending time with the family. You know they are OK and all but I’m just not that much of sociable gal, especially to 4 year olds that scream at the top of their lungs when food is taken out their hands or 6 year olds that pledge to become a doctor to stab you with a needle someday. Aunts and mothers who gossip the whole time, eat and talk about nonsense don’t entice me either. They are nice people and all but I really don’t want to spend a whole day with them. Well, except for Granny. We have meaningful conversations. You know the ones about the store sales, clothes and jewelry.

The older I get the more I dislike the holidays. Truth be told for the past three years I haven’t even wanted to put up a Christmas tree. And believe me if it wasn’t for my nagging mom we wouldn’t have had one. (Dad doesn’t see the point either of putting it up. You have to take it back down a couple of weeks later.)

First I thought maybe it was just a phase. But three years later, I’m starting to think just maybe it’s in my blood. You know kind of like when your Mom has brown hair you might have brown hair too?

Well Dad doesn’t like the holidays either. He epitomizes the Grinch whole Stole Christmas. In fact he probably is the Grinch. He’s grumpy all the way until Dec. 26. That is the day the Nordstroms Men’s Half-Yearly Sale starts. He’s up bright and early at 9 a.m. when the doors open.

Perhaps he is passing the torch to me. The new Grinch who stole Christmas *evil laugh* That doesn’t sound bad

11.20.2006

Ralph, the squirrel

The funniest thing happened today at work. We had a little visitor. A squirrel got into the home office. The first time I heard about it he was sitting in the corner between two floor to ceiling windows, a couple of feet from my cubicle.

Apparently someone saw the squirrel come out of my boss’ office, who happened to have her lunch sitting at her desk unattended (well at least not by her).

Nevertheless I headed to my coworkers cubicle that was even further away to watch the festivities. Because I just knew this would be a show and boy a show it was.

So we call security to come and get the squirrel. Two big burley men corner the squirrel. One takes one side, the other takes the other side. Two vs. one. Squirrel gets away. No one can find the squirrel.

Someone finally remembered the donuts left in the conference room. And there he was enjoying desert. So the two men heads into the conference rooms, closes door to battle it out. We all waited facing the closed door for 10 minutes. For 600 seconds we heard thumps against the wall and stomps against the floor. After a while we started to wonder if the men were winning or the squirrels.

Thankfully the two men came out with squirrel in tow inside a trash can – alive. They covered him up with a lid so he wouldn’t get out. Then we watched as they let free the squirrel. He ran back toward the front doors of our home office, probably the same door he came in to the place initially.

11.19.2006

my crutches...

I love shopping for clothes because it makes me feel better. It's like my own personal haven.

Call it crutch or whatever but it did help me get through this weekend. Between the sleepless night, nightmares and stress from work, I survived. All through the help of those materialistic things we like to call clothes, and purses, makeup, electronics, etc…Anything we can buy, it can put a smile on my face.

I spent the entire day today shopping. Then I came home and shopped on the Internet. It was like being at the spa, getting a massage – which by the way I haven’t had one in over a month.

Perhaps shopping is my weakness. You know I might be doing most of the buying lately, but I can guarantee you I wouldn’t mind being bought. Oh to find a man who will let me buy as much as I want Nordstroms and go with me (ok, he doesn’t have to give advice) but at least to pack the bags and not gripe about it or how long we’ve been in the store. What a dream!

11.16.2006

sleepless in dallas...

So you know the only reason I’ve been updating this thing lately is not because I actually have more time on my hands but because I can’t sleep. Well I can sleep I just would prefer not to. Because if I do there is about a 50 percent chance I’ll have a bad dream. Hell most of the time, I don’t even remember my dreams but lately I have been. And when I’m not necessarily sleeping I have bad day dreams.

Ah, to remember the days when daydreams were good to have. I used daydream all the time while I was at work what I would do if I won the lottery. I would use my money to make other people happy. Kind of like that guy who plays Santa and goes around giving people money. He has given $1.4 million for years and no one knew who he was until now. That would be coolest thing. I wouldn’t even want people to know it was me doing the good deed either.

Then there was always that daydream about the hottest guy you know like the celebrity that you knew in real life would never happen. But IF is such a real word, which always meant there was just that slight chance it could happen. (Hey Katie Holmes daydream came true, so why can’t mine?)

Then there are those daydreams that are more realistic but still didn’t happen. You know when you think about things that have happened the past and replay them in your mind going different way. You know like that time you told the guy you had a crush on him and he rejected you. But you daydream it about you not telling the guy and playing it cool. You’re wearing sexy outfits and are two times skinner that what you really were at time and he sees things just the way you do – him and you together 4-ever. Oh, the days of blissful dreaming; will they ever come back?

10.04.2006

skinny models, skinny feet, right?

For the first time in my 24 years of living someone told me I have a lot of of shoes. Well, not really. I once read that a woman owns an average of 12 pairs of shoes. Twelve! That’s so many.

Okay, so I admit I have more than 12 pairs of shoes. I probably have 13, but that’s not the point. I only really wear four of them. The other nine I pull out maybe once a year or not even that.

Truth me known I have always hated shoe shopping. Don’t get me wrong, I want to love shoes, it’s just shoes (or the suppliers) just don’t love my feet. When I walk into Nordstroms I feel like I am in high school. All of them are so popular so I have a crush on them immediately. But it’s just like high school; they don’t have a crush on me.

My narrow size just can’t fill the typical shoe, which makes it hard to buy the trendy peep-toe shoes or suede stilettos. And if I do find an alluring pair in narrow (key word alluring; I’m starting to realize narrow=ugly grandma pair of shoes) I can expect to shell out almost $100 or more. $100 or more = almost two clothing outfits and maybe even a small lunch.

But you know what gets me is the gimmicks – “We now offer extended sizes.” – Dillards. “We have the widest selection.” – Payless. I guess when they said widest they mean various wide size shoes (W, WW).

Nevertheless, I think its time for designers to start designing for narrow feet people like myself. I mean I just don’t get it, they design clothes for the skinny people, so why can’t they design shoes for skinny feet. It’s only fair.