Thirteen Things about Kate Rothwell
So my Thursday Thirteen author didn't show up, silly woman! I was going to skip it, but then figured what the heck. I got someone in house. Unfortunately she's not prepared for promo and she's kinda dull at the moment.
1. I was supposed to spend the morning at the high school orientation but the kid got sick. Not me! Yay!
2. Oh wait, I'm sorry you feel bad, kid. But still, it's good that it was some yucky germs forcing us out and not me running away. Yo, Boy2, here's some water and get better by Tuesday, okay? No, you can't watch tv. Read a book. Poor lil chicken.
2a update: He's already better, he tells me, but I dunno. It's been one of those up then down then up things for the last couple of days.
No fever, or maybe very low grade, just nausea, headache and dizziness. One more day and we'll call the doctor. He did have an earache earlier this week. Could it be some sort of inner ear thing? Maybe?
3. The layer of dog hair on my cheap bedroom carpet (from ebay) mellows the too-bright red, which is the main color. I think I like it better with hair, as long as the layer is evenly distributed.
4. I just finished a rewrite of a story and it's one I don't think would ever sell, but sometimes it's just good to get those things done. Only 30k and not a single moment of sex. zzzzzz
5. Two things I remember saying the day I got married: "where's the champagne" and "you have a date for New Year's Eve, Mike." No more rejection in our futures.
6. I was wrong about rejection because then I went into writing. And given a choice? I pick clear rejection over. . .
7. . . .
8. Seven indicates dead, horrible silence. The kind you get from editors and agents who can't be bothered to even scribble a note saying "no thanks" or even "never again" Not that I'm bitter or anything. But give me a three word note ("Please go away" or "No thank you" or "I'll answer eventually") over number seven any day of the week. Even if the three words are "Wait six months." Silence means a sort of indifference beyond disliking a person's writing to not even acknowledging her basic existence. Yuck. Egos, beware.
9. I'm in kind of a bad mood at the moment. Let me get more coffee.
10. Okay, better. Coffee for me is like tea in all those British novels by writers like Barbara Pym. Anytime there's a problem, someone bustles off to make tea. I like novels like that.
11. The tomatoes are still not ripe. What's with that, anyway? But, as usual. the basil is very happy. If any of you live near me and want some, send an email.
12. Here's what I do with my excess basil: Grind it in the food-processor with some olive oil and freeze the green near-spooge flat in ziplock bags.
12a I used to do the basil in ice cube trays, but I like my slabs better. With the sheets, I can break off a tiny amount or use the whole thing, plus frozen in thinner sheets, the basil thaws faster. The sheets are wicked easy to store in the freezer, unless I forget to make sure they're absolutely flat when I freeze them. But even then, a Bam, BAM with a fist, and we get almost flatness.
12b. I used to make the pesto and freeze that but something didn't taste entirely fresh, so now I add the nuts, cheese and more olive oil to the frozen sheaves. It's the basil that's hard to find in February.
13. I have several sheets of frozen basil left over from last year. Maybe I should stop planting so much of it or start giving more to Mary and L and other people who make the mistake of visiting me in the spring. Also featured this year: Way too many tomatillo plants. They love my garden. In fact, they are most of this year's garden.
13a. I think most of my Thursday posts that aren't about writers end up being about food. No wonder I read Doug's blog so much. Foodies!
1. I was supposed to spend the morning at the high school orientation but the kid got sick. Not me! Yay!
2. Oh wait, I'm sorry you feel bad, kid. But still, it's good that it was some yucky germs forcing us out and not me running away. Yo, Boy2, here's some water and get better by Tuesday, okay? No, you can't watch tv. Read a book. Poor lil chicken.
2a update: He's already better, he tells me, but I dunno. It's been one of those up then down then up things for the last couple of days.
No fever, or maybe very low grade, just nausea, headache and dizziness. One more day and we'll call the doctor. He did have an earache earlier this week. Could it be some sort of inner ear thing? Maybe?
3. The layer of dog hair on my cheap bedroom carpet (from ebay) mellows the too-bright red, which is the main color. I think I like it better with hair, as long as the layer is evenly distributed.
4. I just finished a rewrite of a story and it's one I don't think would ever sell, but sometimes it's just good to get those things done. Only 30k and not a single moment of sex. zzzzzz
5. Two things I remember saying the day I got married: "where's the champagne" and "you have a date for New Year's Eve, Mike." No more rejection in our futures.
6. I was wrong about rejection because then I went into writing. And given a choice? I pick clear rejection over. . .
7. . . .
8. Seven indicates dead, horrible silence. The kind you get from editors and agents who can't be bothered to even scribble a note saying "no thanks" or even "never again" Not that I'm bitter or anything. But give me a three word note ("Please go away" or "No thank you" or "I'll answer eventually") over number seven any day of the week. Even if the three words are "Wait six months." Silence means a sort of indifference beyond disliking a person's writing to not even acknowledging her basic existence. Yuck. Egos, beware.
9. I'm in kind of a bad mood at the moment. Let me get more coffee.
10. Okay, better. Coffee for me is like tea in all those British novels by writers like Barbara Pym. Anytime there's a problem, someone bustles off to make tea. I like novels like that.
11. The tomatoes are still not ripe. What's with that, anyway? But, as usual. the basil is very happy. If any of you live near me and want some, send an email.
12. Here's what I do with my excess basil: Grind it in the food-processor with some olive oil and freeze the green near-spooge flat in ziplock bags.
12a I used to do the basil in ice cube trays, but I like my slabs better. With the sheets, I can break off a tiny amount or use the whole thing, plus frozen in thinner sheets, the basil thaws faster. The sheets are wicked easy to store in the freezer, unless I forget to make sure they're absolutely flat when I freeze them. But even then, a Bam, BAM with a fist, and we get almost flatness.
12b. I used to make the pesto and freeze that but something didn't taste entirely fresh, so now I add the nuts, cheese and more olive oil to the frozen sheaves. It's the basil that's hard to find in February.
13. I have several sheets of frozen basil left over from last year. Maybe I should stop planting so much of it or start giving more to Mary and L and other people who make the mistake of visiting me in the spring. Also featured this year: Way too many tomatillo plants. They love my garden. In fact, they are most of this year's garden.
13a. I think most of my Thursday posts that aren't about writers end up being about food. No wonder I read Doug's blog so much. Foodies!
My sympathies on the tomato/basil situation. I'm experiencing similar difficulties--A six foot tomato plant with perpetually green fruit and a basil plant that's threatening to eat our house.
ReplyDeleteBasil will winter over here, if you don't let it go to seed. So I find myself constantly trimming the thing and throwing away the leaves (the horror! fresh organic basil is selling for $1.99 at the supermarket). I have to do the same thing with the rosemary. Come trash day, we have the best-smelling green bin on the block.
I have sick first-day-of-school kids too. They were supposed to go to an orientation today. Nope. Trying again tomorrow. Hope yours is well soon too.
ReplyDeleteMy 13 is on cities I've lived in...
You are the only person I have ever known that has admired the dog hair on the rug. I love it too. I have an antique Saruk (okay, I know they call them all Saruks) in the den. The big dog drops white hair like it's going out of style. It makes the most beautiful intricate pattern on top of the rich vegetable dyes of the rug. I think maybe I wouldn't like the spontaneous art so much if I didn't love the big dog so much but then I don't think that is true. I admire beauty when I see it. Then I think I'm admiring dog hair. I need to get a life and ASAP.
ReplyDeleteBettie, I'm trying hard not to say how jealous I am. The current mantra is "embrace winter" Yes, it's best to learn to love ice, snow, sleet, bare trees etc. Gawd, I'd love year round fresh food.
ReplyDeleteCarrie, hope your kids are better. I'm trying to decide if I should call a doctor. If I wait long enough, it'll be the holiday weekend.
CD. It's only that one rug that looks better. The rest of the house just looks shabby. Dog hair is like winter. If you can't stand it, pack up and move or maybe get a vacuum that sucks.
Ah yes, waiting for a rejection letter that never comes is the worst. Get a bigger staff for your slush piles, people! Just let me know in four months max that I'm unacceptable.
ReplyDeleteI love your basil story. I'm not a fan of basil but there are plenty of other herbs in my daughter's now-abandoned herb garden that should be processed. All that lovely lavendar, for example, going to waste. I should be sticking it in my clothing drawers or something. Also, tons of thyme and sage--enough for a whole flock of Thanksgiving turkeys.
Okay, my goal this weekend will be to try out a new recipe and blog it. Just for you, dear.
ReplyDeleteOh, and I have to reread my ending before I send you the manuscript. I'll try to get that done today so that you'll have something fun to read this weekend.
Why do I keep thinking you'll tell me to tone down the kinkiness? You're the one who came up with green splooge!