Mary Kay Andrews

Pirates and wenches invade the ‘dale
It ain’t exactly the Rose Bowl Parade. Kids on bikes, parents in silly get-ups, more kids, riding battery-operated kiddie cars, lots of dogs being walked. Hijinks and tomfoolery are the trademarks of the day, and everybody who wants to gets into the act.

Patriot sword-fights intergalactic enemies
The community club throws theme parties once a month, and has since the 1920s, when our neighborhood was built. This year’s float had a tropical theme, and since parties are what the club’s about, they even had a battery-operated blender whirling up tasty adult beverages.

Community club float celebrates in style

At Susie and Dave’s house, we noshed on breakfast treats, including homemade zucchini muffins made from Susie’s bounteous garden, not to mention the aforementioned bloody marys. Many of these were provided by neighbor Billy, who thoughtfully sets up a full-fledged adult beverage stand at the edge of Dave’s driveway, to help out parched parade-goers. Then we set up our own lawn chairs, quilts and blankets to watch the passing spectacle. Some people provide more spectacle than others, but then, isn’t that one of our founding freedoms? The freedom to be silly?

Back in the days when I we were penniless newlyweds, I started playing a game most women play. If I took my lunch to work, saving $3, then I would rationalize that I had $3 extra to spend on a whim, say, at a yard sale or junk shop. Or, if I used Sunday’s leftover roast chicken for a casserole later that week, that meant I had $5 to spend on a new lipstick. My shopaholic friend Paula helped me refine and hone my retail rationalization skills while I was a reporter at The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. At least once a week we would make a lunchtime pilgrimage to our dear, now departed, Rich’s Department Store, and our favorite spot, the fifth floor, home of the late, lamented Finale on Five Clearance Center. At Finale, items were marked down on the 1st and 15th of every month, and the longer the item stayed on the floor, the deeper it was discounted. Ah, the happy hours we spent there, trolling for bargains. I still have fond memories of the cute turquoise two-piece outfit I bought there for….90 cents? after it languished on the sale racks until it was discounted 90 percent off. Paula and I devised a strategy. If it fit, and the price was amazing, we would look at each other, shrug, and say “Jesus wants me to buy this.”

We all do this, right? After I began writing fiction, my retail rationalization took on a new form. If I gave a speech and earned an honorarium, that money, unlike the money I earn from writing books, was destined to be “Fun Money”. The antique secretary I showed on a recent post? That was bought with fun money from a speech. Recently, I flew down to the Florida Panhandle for a signing at Sundog Books in Seaside. Lovely store, by the way. You should definitely schedule a vacation at Seaside just to shop at Sundog, where customers are welcome to bring their canine companions to shop. Lots of times when I’m on tour, I rent a car to get around. But this time, my publisher had arranged for a car service to pick me up at the airport and deliver me to the airport. The only problem with this? It would mean my junking opportunities would, theoretically, be limited. Notice I said “theoretically?”. Fortunately, I had a junk stop in mind: Smith’s Antique Mall in Destin. And my driver was happy to drop me off for a little retail therapy. I strolled around, happy as a pig in mud. I’d been to Smith’s many times before when our family, along with several other families, spent spring break at nearby Grayton Beach. At Smith’s, I paused before a pair of striking ’50s paintings of tropical birds. I seem to have a thing for tropical birds. And this pair was big, and lovely, and signed. They seemed to call to me: “Take me to Tybee. Take me to Tybee.” They were reasonably priced, plus, by asking nicely, I got a ten percent discount. Hmm. The retail rationalization began to kick in. But I wavered. And then I remembered, I had a nice fat check coming from the “Big Azz Attic Sale” I’d held at Seaside Sisters back in June. I actually purged my basement and attic and sold lots of stuff I’d been hoarding. So, really, look at all the money I’d saved. Those paintings were meant to be mine. Right? And I did have all that “fun money” rolling in. Right? Retail Rationalization at its finest. And for our next lesson in Retail Rationalization? Watch for “My husband spent $600 on a new putter–so I deserve to spend that much on my stuff.”

My writer buddy Margaret Maron emailed Sunday to gently chastise me, asking why I hadn’t blogged lately. Who me? I’ve been to Kentucky and back, worked on the manuscript for the new book. (And no, it’s still not done!)Entertained old friends for dinner Saturday night, did a little babysitting for Molly–who rewarded me by barfing in my car. Just your typical boring old week. So, here, for Margaret, and for anybody else who is interested, is a round-up of the weekend’s junking adventures. Sadly, I did not get to do any junking in Kentucky, because I did not have a car at my disposal. Instead, I locked myself up in my hotel room in Louisville, and worked on the stinking manuscript. I know, pity party, right?

But I did get home shortly after noon Thursday, which meant I had plenty of time to hot-foot it over to Vicki’s sale in Morningside, another of my favorite Atlanta in-town junking neighborhoods. I found an oil painting of the beach that I really liked, but at $300, it was too pricey. Instead, I settled on a primitive painting on board of a boathouse/stilt-house, which somebody at the sale suggested might be by a Key West artist. The signature on it looks like Ray. Or something. Anyway, I like it, and think it would be a fun addition to the back porch at The Breeze Inn. If not, it can always go in my booth at Seaside Sisters.

I also found a pair of vintage-looking silver pheasants. Mr. Mary Kay enjoys pheasant hunting, and since I already had a pair of antique silver hunting dogs, which I display on the Welsh Cupboard in our dining room, I thought they might like to join the dogs there. Sort of my own little joke, you know? Pheasants, bird dogs, dining room? Okay, it’s a really, really inside joke. At the same sale, for $3, I scored a brand new autographed copy of Bon Appetit, Y’all, a southern cookbook by Atlanta chef and food writer Virginia Willis, who is a friend of friends. Can’t wait to start trying recipes.

Red-checked luncheon set for six–$2.50

Still-life of my night-stand, minus Diet Coke can

These were too cute to pass up!

We call it curb cruising. Or trash-day intervention. Sometimes I also indulge in a little dumpster diving. Once, while I was bike riding around Tybee I spotted a great green metal locker sticking out the top of a dumpster at a house under construction. I pedalled back to my friends Ron and Leuveda’s, and got them to drive to the house in their van. Ron, who is tall, not to mention adventurous, climbed into the dumpster and fished out the locker, and it’s now a great addition to their garden area. A fan of mine refers to treasures mined this way as SORA–for Side Of Road Acquisition. Whatever you call it, it’s one of my favorite sports. Our neighborhood in Atlanta is renowned for its curb-cruising possibilities, because our town has such a generous trash policy–you can put virtually anything at the curb and our sanitation workers will pick it up and haul it away. When we put something with halfway decent potential on the curb at home, we’ll often make a game of sitting on the porch and watching to see how long it takes for somebody to drive or walk by and snag the object of their desire. My old office chair, which had finally lost its arm for good, went on the curb last Friday and it took only a matter of minutes for it to be re-possessed. I think Tybee must have the same liberal policy. This makes for excellent shopping possibilities. Locals are well aware that trash days are Mondays and Thursdays, so they make a point of “shopping” just ahead of the garbage trucks. In just the past couple of years I’ve picked up a pair of wicker armchairs (which I then painted and sold in my booth at Seaside Sisters), a wicker rocker, (awaiting rehab in our shed), a vintage oak dresser, (which actually once belonged to my Mermaid Cottage friend Diane, and which got returned to her), and yesterday, a pair of adorable homemade children’s Adirondack chairs. Mr. Mary Kay is not nearly as enthusiastic about this sport as I. In fact, he refuses to play, so usually I have to enlist a co-conspirator when the opportunity arises. Co-conspirators with vans or trucks are greatly prized! These little cutie-pie chairs are, admittedly, rotted. But right now, they look so sweet in the backyard at The Breeze Inn beside a couple of blooming azaleas. I’m going to accessorize them with some ferns and white flowers, and everytime I look out from the screened porch, I’ll remember that my friend Seaside Susan and I staged an intervention and brought them home. In fact, they’re so cute, I’m going to try to find somebody to copy them and make me a functioning pair for our granddaughter Molly to use. How about you? Got any good SORA stories?