kate rothwell

It's not quite on the scale of asking the interwebs whether or not I should have children -- but I've been collecting hair opinions on twitter. In about 20 minutes, I'm getting a hair cut. Lots of them cut har, har. I don't have strong opinions because I don't look at myself and I don't spend hours messing with my hair. It's nice that other people do have opinions that they're sharing. I feel less invisible. Here's the thing: my hair hasn't failed me . Boobs, bod, face, they're all heading south, literally. The metabolism has ground to a halt--all that weight I lost? Every pound has come back, hello. The hair has some grey in it, but I don't mind that. I still have a lot of it, it's thick, it grows the way its supposed to. Curse you for your inevitable betrayal, body. Thank you for hanging on, hair. Which of the two do I want to chop bits off of? Not the agreeable, obligingly curling one. But of course the other isn't up for ch...

Enter this contest today and I will owe you gratitude and even a beer, maybe.

I must be in a mellow mood because I'm enjoying nearly every book I pick up. Here is my favorite: The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks. I listened to it and the reader was pretty good. She didn't intrude so we got the story without extra drama. It's a peculiar mix of styles, deep third point of view, then some unnamed person's report of Frankie along with what had to be footnotes explaining references. I noticed some people over at Amazon objected to the interruption of the story with the notes from some omniscient story teller, not to mention the notes from whoever had written the reports. I wish I had a print copy--I bet it would be easier to know where we are with the story. It didn't bother me. In fact it was a nice change from the standard deep third all the way. The story was full of rich kids at a boarding school. For once I believed it. These were really the rich kids I've met (I went to private school in DC and there were some of these peopl...

PROS: He -- brings me coffee every morning is the father of my kids. has the only steady income in the family has health insurance too makes me laugh nearly every day is smart has a runner's body, if you know what I mean and I think you do is often my best friend and has been almost 28 years. CONS: He -- won't let me get a cat. Well. He might well let me get one, but it can't live with him. * * * I'll get back to you on what I decide. I really want a cat.

Q: What did you get from this conference, Kate? Anything worth sharing? A: Jennifer Fusco is amazing. Jessica Andersen and Jennifer Fusco are a perfect team. Eloisa James still does a good keynote, although she did end with a standard/traditional note after avoiding the heck out of that for most of the rest of the speech. Sarah from Smart Bitches is funny, even after all these years. It's only right and proper that Toni won the Ipad though I wanted that baby, bad. CTRWA does a fine lil conference. Q: What about the industry? What about trends yadayayada? Anything useful? A: Not that I can recall. Except don't mix your professional and personal and lay off the whining. Q: Was it as bad as you'd expected? A: Naw, it never is. But I don't want to do that again. Until the next time. Oh, GOD. RWA is soon. No, I can't bear it, no, no, n--whoops, that's not whining. Q: Any advice? A: Don't bother pitching for yourself. have Corrina Lawson do it for you.

this showed up in my email with subject line "Assignment" after some major arm-twisting. Andrew D. MOTH 1000 Professor Rothwell 5/8/2011 The Psychological Effects of Mother’s Day on Vicenarian Males Once again Mother’s Day has rolled around, and just in time for most young men to finish their semesters at college and come home. Just in time for tired young men, scourged by the merciless lashes of academia, to return home simply wanting a time of rest and recuperation, a break from the vicissitudes and troubles of scholastic life. Alas, for many such youths, men just beginning to spread open their buds to the radiance of adult life, no such time of rest awaits them. Instead, they return home, and realize that some arbitrary power has declared that their first weekend home, when they should be doing nothing more than sleeping, eating, and watching tv on the couch, a holiday dedicated to those who squirted them into this troublesome world. Such young men ge...

You're supposed to go enter the contest in which you might possibly win: $20 gift certificate from Amazon An ebook from Summer. It's today only and could it be any easier to enter? No, it really couldn't.

Fine. Don't comment on the interview . But you WILL want to say something tomorrow. That's when I WILL be giving away an ebook and a gift certificate to Amazon. You WILL visit then. Look deeeeep into my eyes and repeat after me. "I will visit the website known as cup-o-porn tomorrow so that I might get a chance to win, win, win." Cup-o-porn has the label "coffee and porn in the mornings" and is occasionally NSFW, no big surprise. I think they put the purely naked men after the jumps so you'll be safe if you don't click on some of those links. But if you don't mind unsafe (for work), I recommend some clicking.

I get to be the one to interview Summer Devon. Here's the thing: if I beg you to comment will I look pathetic? I suppose only if you all remain silent. No wait, it'll make me look like a rugged individualist -- a lone writer. Can I do spin or what?

I bought a book from amazon, opened my Kindle and almost at once was filled with disappointment and switched to another book**. I just don't have the taste for one of Those Books. I mean, it's fine with me if other people want to read that sort of thing. Live and let live. But I find the long descriptions of that activity distasteful. I'd rather that happened behind closed doors and long descriptions make me uncomfortable because I feel as if I'm intruding on something I think should be kept private. Sure it's precious to you, but I don't want to read about it. I'm talking God, specifically the characters' relationship with the deity. So anyway. If you read this, you know I've already ranted about how I don't like to read books with lots of God and how I think Religious activity is to inspies as Sex is to the erotic romance. The only reason I'm bringing this up again is because times are changing. Used to be you could tell from the titl...

I'm not selling my house. I mean I am NEVER, ever selling my house. I just had an appraiser and his assistant wander through the place for a half hour and I don't need to feel that kind of disdain ever again. They might have actually felt some disdain. Most of it was mine.*** It didn't help that when they stood in the kitchen and asked what sort of improvements we've made on the house I answered, "well, we added the front porch and that cupboard doors of banana stickers behind you," and they didn't laugh. If I had a camera, I'd take a picture of our doors of stickers. Those decorations took a lot of time and effort and bananas, thank you. So two people looking down their noses at our house was more than enough. I don't love this place -- not like my mother who loved our old house so much she always declared they'd have to carry her out feet first. But selling this place would be too, too mortifying. The appraisal isn't for a sale, thank god...