Kitty Deschanel | Food, Wine, and Travel Adventures in an Airstream Basecamp

I'm not the sort of person who believes in things like this, but my Grandpa died today and when I got in my car after work, the radio was playing an oldies station. Old oldies, like music from the 30s. The radio display said I was still on the same R&B station as this morning, yet it was actually on a different number altogether. Before thinking anything of it, I pressed the button to change the station. The station did not change.

Thank you to everyone for your kind comments about my poor Britney. She was the best dog ever. Looking back on my memories of her, she wasn't the most ideal puppy for me though. At the time, we probably both would have been better off without the other. Right before I graduated from high school, my 26-year-old boyfriend and I rented a cheap, dilapidated duplex together in a terrible part of town. Here in Albuquerque, it's affectionately known as "the war zone". It was really bad - no heat, which is illegal, cockroaches spilling out of the sidewalk whenever we'd walk through the neighborhood, and a landlord who would show up late at night, drunk, when I was home alone and threaten to beat up my boyfriend for not paying the rent (which made me defensive at the time because I'd given him the rent money, but looking back, I'm sure my loser boyfriend had squandered my cash on something else and lied about it.) The house two doors down made it onto the news...

After seeing that the window place doesn't open until almost noon on the weekend, I told our rep we'd meet whenever was convenient for him. He wasn't supposed to choose 8am! 5pm: We need to meet our Pella rep. to discuss windows and doors. 4pm:   We need to meet our Pella rep. to discuss windows and doors. 3pm: We need to meet our Pella rep. to discuss windows and doors. 2pm: We need to meet our Pella rep. to discuss windows and doors. 1pm: We need to meet our Pella rep. to discuss windows and doors. 12pm: We need to meet our Pella rep. to discuss windows and doors. 11am: We need to meet our Pella rep. to discuss windows and doors. 10am: We need to meet our Pella rep. to discuss windows and doors. 9am: We need to meet our Pella rep. to discuss windows and doors. 8am: What century is this? ANYTHING THAT COULD POSSIBLY NEED TO BE DISCUSSED CAN BE RESOLVED EXCLUSIVELY THROUGH EMAIL. THEY'RE JUST WINDOWS AND DOORS, FOR FRICK'S SAKE.

I've worked in a pediatric dental office for the past 11+ years and yesterday I received a call that stumped me. The man on the line asked me about doing technical writing and my work experience. He said he'd read my LinkedIn profile. Caught completely off guard ( You read my what??) , I said something like "I just work here. There's an opening next Wednesday when we can see both of your children." and then freaked out a little the moment I had him off the phone. Okay, I may have freaked out a bit while he was still on the line too. Where did technical writing come from? There's no mention of technical writing on my site. How did he even find that? Kitty Deschanel is my pen name, not the name parents know me by at our office. And even if there was a profile created years ago that I've forgotten about, it wouldn't be linked to the dental office. Plus, the parents I meet through work only know my first name. I'm stumped. To top everything off,...

Today is our 12th Valentine's Day. I made Sexy Nerd a fancy dinner, complete with roasted butternut squash, salad, and a filet mignon that I began marinating two days ago. It was good, but perhaps next Valentine's Day we can enjoy our meal together? I ate downstairs with roses from my boss, who knew they would surely be the only flowers I received, and a candle. (Not so) Sexy Nerd ate his upstairs, watching a rerun of Gold Rush in his recliner. I'd suggested he join me, but he declined in a "no hard feelings" sort of way. No hard feelings, indeed. He was recently drawn downstairs by the aroma of the from-scratch Devil's food cake baking. However, he was dismayed to learn I'm frustrated with him, so now he's back in the recliner, quite possibly waiting for me to bring him a slice of cake and an apology. Harumph. ***Update*** I can't stay mad at that crazy guy. All is forgiven.

Due to an absurd error on my part, where I typo'd DESPRESSION (ack!) as the URL and was unable to change it,  my depression (no S!) blog post has moved here . Sorry about that.