Mary Kay Andrews

We Interrupt this Blog for an Important Message/BSP

Today, Sunday, I’ll be giving a book talk and hawking books at the NE Spruill Oaks Library Branch in Johns Creek, Ga. I think that’s the new name for a part of formerly unincorporated Alpharetta. The gig starts at 2:30 p.m. If you live nearby, c’mon over. I mean, just how much football does one person need to watch? It’s at 9560 Spruill Oaks Rd. It’s free and everything. And you could buy a buttload of books–since over here at The Kudzu Telegraph/Mary Kay Andrews global headquarters it is all about me.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled rant. The good news is that the big yellow truck did not flip over. The aquaduct paint on the outside of The Breeze Inn is nothing short of amazing. It makes your pulse drop a few points just looking at it. Tranquility in a paint can. The blossom pink paint on the front door is yummy too. Altho–when we pulled up Thursday the first thing I noticed was that the painters had mistakenly painted the door surround pink too–which made the house look like a slatternly old lady with smeared hot pink lipstick. Once they painted the surround white, like the rest of the trim, all was calm. In other not so happy news: the electrician, Mr. Reddy Killowatt, flunked his inspection. Among other brilliant moves, he neglected to place a 110 outlet in the kitchen for the stove. Light switches are so screwed up it makes me want to scream. There is no internet cable run to my office cubby. Hello??? The plumber decided once and for all that my beloved vintage pedestal sinks would not work after all, because it’s impossible to find modern drains to fit them. Curses! The stove wouldn’t fit in the cabinet slot in the kitchen, so we had to get the granite guy to come out and grind down the slot. The microwave had a stripped screw and was missing vital mounting brackets, so we had to run out and buy a new one. And the floor guy for some reason, decided we didn’t want the staircase and upstairs landing sanded and stained–like ALL the other floors he’d installed. “I thought you wanted to paint that” he reportedly said. But who paints newly installed reclaimed heart pine???? So he’ll have to come back down from Atlanta. Again. We weren’t allowed to set up the beds because the electrical and HVAC guys flunked their inspections, meaning we can’t get a certficate of occupancy until they DO pass inspection. So furniture and dishes and kitchenware are piled everywhere. Except that Mr. Mary Kay DID get his big-ass TV set up. And while I was up in Charleston Saturday, doing a book gig, he snuck out and bought MORE speakers.
Ok. Rant over. None of the above is insurmountable. Nobody was maimed or killed in the move. It’s just a house. Just stuff. We are so blessed that our dream of having a beach house was finally realized. And I know it will be beautiful when it’s done. Or else. Mr. Reddy Killowatt may find himself with a 110 outlet plugged where the sun don’t shine.

Moving Day: As the Stomach Churns

The move to Tybee Island is officially underway. The big yellow truck is backed up in our driveway. One of the storage sheds has been emptied. Mr. Mary Kay and a strapping youth, plus Mark, our son-in-law are out there in the cold, wrestling with the Baptist Yard Sale Sleeper Sofa, and the vast quantity of wicker I have amassed over the past couple years, not to mention assorted geegaws, and whimdoodles. The big-ass wide-screen TV which Mr. MK purchased recently is waiting to be loaded. This television is so large that I think we could just point it at the street and sell tickets to front yard screenings this summer. It is so large that the dudes on the space shuttle could probably watch Sports Center on it from outer space. Mr. MK is all about electronics. While I have been dithering over doorknobs and salivating over sinks, he has been making furtive visits to Best Buy and Circuit City. One night he came home with a shopping bag full of stuff. I eyed it suspiciously, seeing the all-too-familiar Best Buy logo. “What’s that?” she said. “Clock radios,” he said smugly. “A whole bag-ful?” “I can’t stand a beach house without a clock radio, so I bought one for every room,” he said. “People want to know what time it is.” I tried to tell him that many modern-thinking types just check their cell phone, but he was having none of it. While I was browsing around in the basement (home to the Breeze Inn furniture inventory) I came across a large cardboard box. “What’s this?” He got a blissful look on his face. “Stereo system. Inside and out speakers.” This box is the size of a suitcase. “Couldn’t we just get a docking station for an iPod?” I asked innocently. He looked at me as though I’d just suggested he should attend high mass at the Cathedral–wearing women’s panties on his head. Tonight, as we were loading his vehicle for the move, I spotted another suspicious box in the back of his SUV. I’m afraid to look, but I think it might be a HDTV blue-ray DVR. And did I mention his fixation with batteries and light bulbs? Oh well. He better not say a word about that wicker dressing table that materialized in the basement over the Christmas holidays. Or the three different kinds of salad plates I’ve purchased for the beach house. Not to mention all the wine glasses.

Me n’ Eddie

Eddie and I–a tender moment at Scott’s
 Souvenir tablecloth for beach house window treatment
Floursack pillow sham for boomerang boy’s room

French market basket for linen storage at beach

My dream date with Eddie Ross was almost perfect. We shared malteds at the drive-in, then somebody put a dime in the jukebox and we danced to “our” song–“Muskrat Love”, and he gave me his high school letter sweater. You know he lettered in audio-visual, right? And then we went parking down at the overlook. Oh wait. Time out. I think maybe I made up some of that stuff. Okay, all of it. I do write fiction for a living–remember? Maybe I watched a little too much Laverne and Shirley in my formative years. Anyway, after I got my junkin’ mojo back with a Saturday visit to Scott’s (see my finds above) we had a terrific time at Scott’s Antique Market today with the fabulous Eddie Ross. Katie and I met Eddie and Jaithan–and about 30 others, at the South Building at Scott’s this morning. Since the vendors didn’t open for an hour, Eddie filled us in on his background, gave us some of the inside scoop on Top Design, and answered tons of questions before we started touring the building. We stopped at some of Eddie’s favorite dealers, and he gave us pointers on painting furniture—always prime veneered furniture before painting–how to keep a room filled with antiques from looking too “granny”–mix in contemporary fabrics and accessories. He talked about choosing affordable art, thrifty tips for framing, and lots more. All kidding aside, I think Eddie’s appeal is that he is all about accessible, real-life design, mixing vintage and antiques with well-designed affordable mass market goods. He’s not above telling you that he adores the upholstered headboards at Ballard Designs, or suggesting that you pick up a $20 print and pair it with a simple black frame from Michael’s. Afterwards, Katie and I lured Eddie and Jaithan over to one of our favorite vendors at Scott’s–Uncle Woody’s, for some chicken salad and shop-talk. It looks like 2009 will be the year of Eddie Ross. He’s got a book in the works, licensing deals, and some cool upcoming magazine stuff. And he and Jaithan are moving to the country. I’ll be moving there shortly too, I’m sure. Just as soon as Eddie gently breaks the news to Jaithan that he is so five minutes ago…

Missing: My junkin’ mojo

Beth and I spent four hours at Scott’s Friday and I only managed to buy one thing. A ten dollar milk glass towel bar. As the King of Siam would say “is a puzzlement”. There was lots of yummy stuff yesterday, and dealers were certainly willing to bargain, but I only managed to pull the trigger that one measly time. My conclusion? What with the holidays and all the craziness of pulling together the beach house, I maybe lost my junkin’ mojo. No fear. We headed back to Scott’s today, and I somehow found my mojo again. Bought a french wicker basket for forty bucks (one dealer was selling the same ones for $160), a vintage Florida souvenir tablecloth to use as a curtain in the bathroom at the beach house, and some way-cool National Biscuit Company flour sacks that will make sweet pillow shams in the boomerang boy’s bedroom at the beach. Tomorrow is my blind date with Eddie Ross at Scott’s. Okay, I lied. It’s more like a group date. And we’re paying to go. But still, I know in my heart of hearts, if anybody could get Eddie to switch teams, it’d be me. Stay tuned.

Yippee! It’s Scott’s this weekend!

Brimfield dresser, happy-face potty
Claw-foot tub. Paint? What color?

My junking buddy Beth is on the road, even as we speak, driving down from Raleigh for a Scott’s Antique Market fix. Yes, we are going today and tomorrow, with several members of the posse. And Katie and I are meeting our new virtual boyfriend Eddie Ross there for a Sunday outing. Stay tuned for news and views about that. What? You don’t think three days of junking in a row is a good idea? Pffftttt. Don’t know about you, but what with the holidays and working on the beach house, there has been a real junk deficit in my life recently. I actually missed the December Scott’s. I’m practically giddy with excitement today. In other news, progress marches on down at Tybee. I spent hours yesterday obsessing over pink. As in pink paint. For the front door and all the exterior doors. I’d picked out Benjamin Moore’s Pink Blossom with help from Jane Coslick, but here on my desktop in Atlanta, it looks a little grayed out. Instead, a color called Peony seems to be calling my name. Speaking of excitement, before I left Tybee Wednesday, the plumbers installed my toilets, and the master bathroom sink. This is the sink that got dropped into the dresser I hauled all the way home from Brimfield, Mass., just to find out that it was too big for its intended spot in the downstairs bath. You should have seen me hugging the plumber. His name is John and he DOES NOT think a plumber named John is hilarious. Maybe I was standing too close to the paint fumes, because I got the giggle-fits just thinking about it. The claw-foot tub is in too. Mr. MK says it needs paint. He doesn’t get shabby chic. Not at all.

How do you say "kill me now" in Spanish?

Shed roofs on steroids

Ok, I’m back down at Tybee knee-deep in renovation hell. Pulled up to The Breeze Inn yesterday, and my first reaction was “oh #$%@!”. The shed roofs we’d designed to go over the front windows and front door had mysteriously mutated into an overgrown porch that wasn’t quite a porch. I’d love to have a front porch, of course, but the setback restrictions down here are pretty rigid, so no porch. After a quick consultation with the framing guys, and some hurried pix which I quickly emailed to Mr. MK, we all agreed that the sheds on steroids had to be dialled down. Keith, our cheerful framer/trim carpenter, set to work on that this morning, first thing. In the meantime, the painters, plumbers, HVAC guy and electricians all began their frontal assault. Where were these guys all summer? So here’s what happened. Mr. Chick–really, no shit, that’s his name, ran his ginormous aluminum ductwork across my gorgeous Morning Sky blue ceilings, and informed me that that’s how they were supposed to look. I could have wept, but there wasn’t time, because before you could say “make mine a double Xanax mocha-latte vanilla Valium”, Billy, the plumber, informed me that the antique vanity I bought in Brimfield, and which I’d already had a sink (second sink–first one was too big) dropped into, would not fit in the downstairs bath. No way. We scurried around and determined that the vanity would fit in the master bath. Once we settled the sink issue, the plumbers vanished. Into thin air. I mean, one minute there were three of them, the next minute, poof–gone. Much like our beach house budget. But, I mean, it’s a small island–where the hell could they be? No time to find out, because now the electrician–(surly, dismissive of women) had arrived, even though he’d already told Mr. MK he couldn’t make it today. So now, Jane and I, (Jane being the fabulous, disaster-averting Jane Coslick, responding to my panicked 911 call) were scurrying around, trying to place correct light fixtures in their corresponding positions.

Mr. Reddy Killowatt took one look at the vintage light fixtures which I’d so lovingly been hoarding for over a year now, and declared them unfit for duty. No way. No how. Having dissed my vintage fixtures, he pronounced my expensive ceiling fans unnecessarily unwieldy and complicated. And where, he demanded to know, had the plumbers gone? And why hadn’t they hooked up the hot water heater? And where was the wall sconce for the downstairs bathroom? At that point, I had to go outside for a calming sip of Diet Coke. It was still before noon, so a calming sip of vodka was sorta out of the question. Outside, the twang of country music from Keith’s radio was duelling with the dulcet tones of radio Guadalajara, being played by the painters, who were up on ladders. At least they weren’t dissing me. I think, but am not sure, since my three years of high school Spanish pretty much limits me to phrases like “Si! No habla espanol.” Also–“Si! Mi casa esta todo azul.” I could have asked them “donde esta el cuarto del bano,” but sadly, I already knew the answer to that question. No esta aqui. Much like the plumbers.

Oops. Forgot to Post Dutton-Waller Pix

Dining room, Dutton-Waller House

Living room seating area

Kitchen shelf

Bathroom, love the chandelier, stained glass and interior shutters

So here are the promised pix of the beloved Dutton-Waller house on Tybee Island, and happy 2009 everybody! No more war, no more hate, no more greed, no more bankruptcies, boondoggles, lay-offs, wrinkles, bags, sags, or any of that other bad stuff. I’m lookin’ for–as Petula Clark would say, sunshine, lollipops and rainbows. Or at least a really good run of estate sales. Hit two in Virginia-Highlands today. Nothing. Zip. Nada. Very disappointing. Gotta run. More later.

Cottage Love…and Breeze Update

Shimmering Lime–maybe, maybe not?
Morning sky blue master bath, definite yes

Moonlight white dining room, yes!

Happy New Year’s Eve everybody! The MKAs are staying in the ‘hood tonight, partying with the posse. The hubbers are allegedly cooking dinner for the ladies. Mr. MKA, of course, is actually an excellent cook. At this moment he is finishing off his famous crab cake appetizers, which will be served with dollops of hot pepper jelly. He’ll cook the standing rib roast at the P’s house, while we watch the Peach (er, Chick-Fil-A) Bowl. In the meantime, here are the promised Tybee pix, both of the fabulous Dutton-Waller House, which I blogged about Monday, and the updated Breeze Inn. We finally seem to be moving right along with the beach house. The painters were almost finished with the inside when I left yesterday. The Moonlight White walls are going to be wonderful, giving this tired old house such a fresh, crisp look–like white sheets on the clothesline. PS–we actually have a clothesline in the backyard! The Morning Sky blue ceilings are sweet too, and the Shimmering Lime on the kitchen walls–well, it seems a little strong, but I think it’s growing on me. The contractors have started framing up the exterior window trim, and there’s some talk that we’ll have paint on the outside some time next week. In other news, my never-ending sink search finally hit pay dirt. I found a great white porcelain vessel sink which will drop into my washstand for Boomerang Boy’s bedroom. With it goes a cool faucet in french bronze finish. They were discontinued floor models from a plumbing place, so I got an amazing price on them. Still looking for that vintage laundry room sink. I hit two of our favorite building surplus places on Atlanta’s westside today–Atlanta Building Surplus and Midtown Surplus, both in the Howell Mill Area. (Conveniently close to my other favorite haunts, Forsyth and Lewis & Shearin Fabrics and Ballard’s Backroom) The surplus/salvage places have good stuff and great prices, but they didn’t have the right size sink, or the louvered interior shutters I need for the master bedroom. Hope to check Pinch of the Past, the great archtictural salvage place in Savannah, to see if they have what I need. We managed to save all the old louvered interior shutters when we started the demo process at the Breeze, and with some retrofitting, and some primer and white paint, they’ll work for the living room, saving me the killer cost of window treatments there. If all goes as promised, the plumber will start installing tubs, toilets, faucets and sinks on Monday, and the electrician will hang all our light fixtures, and then the floor guys, who live here in Atlanta, will head down to the beach Wednesday to do the final sand and finish. I’m keeping my fingers crossed!

Cottage Love

Living room, Dutton-Waller Cottage Exterior, Dutton-Waller Cottage

I ran down to Tybee this evening to do a walk through of the beach house. Tonight I’m staying at a Mermaid Cottage called Dutton-Waller. Sigh. It’s true love. Built in 1938 and added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2006, DW is a beach house with soul. It’s the beach house The Breeze Inn wants to be when it grows up. This is yet another Jane Coslick/Diane Kaufman creation, and it was restored with so much love, so much thought, so much care, it makes my heart go pitter-patter. Tomorrow when it’s daylight, and before I go over to the Breeze, I’ll walk around and take some pics of all the glorious details to post. Until then, here’s a little cottage porn for your perusal. Dutton-Waller says don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m beautiful.

Boxing Day Greetings

The good china, silver and crystal are put away. The damask tablecloth and napkins are in a puddle on the floor, waiting to be dropped off at the cleaners. The fridge is full of left-overs. I’m sure I’ve gained ten pounds in December. The old mister is off golfing, which leaves me home alone to slog through 200 pages of copyedited manuscript–which have to be sent off to New York by this evening in order to make my deadline for THE FIXER UPPER. But it was a very, very wonderful Christmas. All my chicks were home to roost for Christmas, and they even went to the children’s mass with us on Christmas Eve. It’s always such a sweet service, with the little ones re-enacting the Christmas story. The whole family converged for Christmas dinner yesterday, and we gorged ourselves on standing rib roast, the old mister’s famous Christmas ducks, and all the trimmings. Afterwards, the younger set had a blast playing with my son-in-law’s new Wii Rockband game, and we nearly laughed ourselves sick watching them. So, back to work for me this morning, but first I thought I’d share some pix of our holiday decorating. After nearly killing myself decorating for our neighborhood tour of homes last year, I didn’t even put out half of my vintage Christmas collectibles this year, although it still looks like a lot. Old bottlebrush trees mixed in with my blue and white transferware on the Welsh cupboard in the dining room, gold and silver glass grape clusters mixed in with the mantel greenery, my goofy snowmen gathered in the antique secretary, and the old dime-store Christmas boxes on the sunroom table were among the collections that did get put out this year. I hope your holiday was just as blessed and filled with family, friends, love and laughter!