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I have never been superstitious. I have a black cat that constantly crosses my path, I walk under ladders and I spill salt without then throwing some over my shoulder. But then I got the bracelet. For the holidays my boyfriend's sister bought me a little bracelet made of purple thread. The card read that I was to put the bracelet on, make a wish, and then when it fell off naturally on its own, my wish would come true. Without thinking much about the power of this sentiment I put the delicate purple thread around my left wrist and wished to be a guest on Oprah!

A few days passed and I glanced down at my wrist, realizing this bracelet was really not my usual accessory style. I rarely wear jewelry and when I do it's big and clunky and usually once belonged to one of my grandmothers. I thought about taking it off but then it dawned on me what if the bracelet wish is a real thing and I take it off ruining any chance of getting on Oprah to talk about my book! So the bracelet stayed.

A month later I went to a trapeze lesson and the instructor said I should remove all delicate jewelry and I told him, "No I want this to fall off!" He looked at me like I was a weirdo. Whatever. This is Oprah's show that's on the line. After 3 hours of flying around a trapeze I looked down at my wrist surprised to see the bracelet in tact.

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I grew up in Miami Beach and watched my father sit in his home office all day and write. Then before I knew it the family would all be at Books and Books in Coral Gables for his latest signing and reading and book party. Usually I would play in the aisles of colorful books, crack open a few that looked interesting, and peek my head around to catch a glimpse of my father entertaining the crowd. Now 20 years later I am launching my book tour at that very same Books and Books. 

My life has come full circle in an amazing way. And I'm nervous!

I planned months ago to start starving myself so I could be uber skinny when I returned home. I realized yesterday as I ate a burrito that I had totally forgotten to starve myself and with only a few days left there is no point in starting now.

I've picked what I think is the perfect Miami chapter to read in front of my parents and old high school friends and enemies and frenemies. Just a tad offensive, not too racy, and very Miami- centric. My first love will be there, as will my current boyfriend. 

I'll try not to obsess about them meeting and actually focus on what I'm reading. Hopefully my father will be sitting quietly and listening and not playing in the aisles.

What I haven't figured out is what I will sign in people's books. I need a quip, a comment, something incredibly punchy and perfect to go on that first page. And what if I spell someone's name wrong? I hate when my name is spelled wrong which happens constantly. I think I need to ask each person how they spell there name just to be safe. 

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As long as I can remember I was a people watcher, a snoop and an avid eavesdropper. I liked to be in everyone's business or at least know about it. Hiding behind desks in kindergarten I could overhear teacher gossip, not always understanding the big words but shelving them away. In elementary school I would crouch in bathroom stalls and listen to the girls say mean things about other girls. And at home I would creep by my parent's bedroom, wait breathlessly in the hall, and listen in to their daily debriefing. I was often proud of my meddling skills and would report back to my mother about what I had seen or overheard so she gave me what would become one of my favorite books of all time, Harriet The Spy.

Harriet loved spying on everyone and felt compelled to write it all down in her notebook. Of course she gets caught, the notebook gets found, everyone is furious with her, and she learns the valuable lesson that if you write it down, it will be read, so beware. After reading the book when I was 8 years old the lesson I learned was if you write it down, and it's interesting enough, it will be read and passed on to others to read! That sounded extraordinarily exciting to me so I began to write it all down.

I started writing in a diary and I never stopped. Sometimes I feel if I don't write about something, then it didn't really happen.

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Sascha Rothchild is one of our guest bloggers during the week of January 25th. If you have any questions for Sascha Rothchild, add a comment to any of her posts. Here is some more information about How to Get Divorced by 30: 

Read an excerpt and view the author's tour dates.

A hilarious memoir about the ending of a marriage that should have lasted forever-or at least for five years.

It's an age-old story. Girl meets boy. Girl marries boy. Girl decides she is way too young to be stuck in nuptial mediocrity.

When Sascha realized that the one person she didn't want at her thirtieth birthday party was her husband, she knew that it was time for the relationship to end. So, like the hordes of others of her generation for whom starter marriages are as common as Louis Vuitton knock-offs and $5 Starbucks lattes, they got divorced. With wit, moxie, and honesty, Sascha spills about the horrible ex-boyfriends, awkward dates, drugs, a near-death experience, and memories of growing up in an unconventional household that led to her short-lived marriage.

A story of love, loss, a flat-screen TV named Ruby, and plenty of misguided decisions, How to Get Divorced by 30 is a hysterical look at what exactly "Til death do us part" means today.