Be It Resolved

Well, we’re officially a month into the New Year. The national news reports say that Punxatawney Phil has predicted another six weeks of winter. But down here in Georgia, we’re choosing to listen to our own resident groundhog, Gen. Beauregard Lee, who says spring is just around the corner. But back to those resolutions. How’re we doing? In January, I ran a contest in my newsletter asking readers to tell me what you were resolving to change for 2010. I wanted to know because I’ve had a bit of a love/hate relationship with resolutions over the years. I figured maybe my readers could teach me a thing or two.

And you did! This was by far the most popular contest we’ve run yet, with triple the number of entries from the previous contest. But as the entries came in, I started to worry that we were all being a bit too self-critical. Because really, who doesn’t hate the size of their butt? Okay, maybe Kate Moss, who famously said “nothing tastes as good as skinny looks.” Hate her! But then I got an entry from Beth, who said her goal for the year is “to try not being so hard on myself.” Amen, Sister Beth.

Your responses ran the gamut from heartfelt to funny, and inspirational. Of course there were those entries about wanting to shed extra pounds. Kimmy sent me an itemized list–1. Lose weight. 2.Be more patient. 3.Get through school. We can all relate, Kimmy. Just be sure to be patient with yourself. Speaking of patience, several of you told me of your desire to keep calm and carry on, as the saying goes. Charity is hoping for “A Return to Graciousness,” and thanks to Heather’s resolution to “Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stick,” her kids now know she means business when she does NOT raise her voice. A couple of readers wrote me very personal notes about challenges they were facing. Jane is looking forward to getting involved with her step-grandchildren now that their mother is in jail, and mourning the loss of her mother to the end stages of Alzheimer’s Disease, so she’s vowing to savor each moment of the day while she can. Elizabeth has ended an abusive relationship and is planning to treat herself with a trip to Savannah. After losing one pregnancy, Mandie is overjoyed to be looking forward to the birth of her first child in May. A couple of you told me you’re reinventing yourself after job losses. I’ve reinvented my ownself more than once, so I can tell you that this is such an exciting (and scary) process. My niece Sarah told me that she and nine friends came up with “Ten for 2010”–a list of resolutions that involves trying new things–and reading new books. Love this idea! I gave her HISSY FIT to start off with.

There were a couple resolutions I couldn’t get behind, however. Restrict adult beverages to weekends? Clean more? Read less? Not me! Given the choice, I’d rather go with readers like Antoinette and Vivian, who resolved to make no resolutions at all.

So, who’s the winner? As usual, I could not pick just one. So two of you will receive autographed copies of BLUE CHRISTMAS. Martha Quinn is so tried of failed resolutions that she is picking twelve from past years and tackling one per month. Martha, do let us know how you make out with your dirty dozen. And then there’s DeDe Woodling, whose resolution gave me a much-needed laugh on a chilly winter day. DeDe has resolved to be more like her dog. We can all take something from her goals: to love unconditionally, forgive easily, feel the sun on her face, and run like the wind while she still can. Go, DeDe, go! Congratulations to Martha and DeDe and happy reading to you and everybody else.

Finally, I’ll leave you with one last resolution from a reader named Carolyn who simply stated, “Laugh more, worry less.” Words to live by, indeed.

A Week At The Beach…Kinda

My favorite hideaway, The Breeze Inn

I came down to Tybee Island and our cottage here, The Breeze Inn, to write for a few days. I do that whenever I can sneak away from home and hide out. It’s not that I can’t write at home. I can. I do. But it’s different at Tybee. No housekeeping. I make my bed in the morning and rinse out my cereal bowl and spoon and the house is done. No laundry. I wear faded black yoga pants and sweats. Nobody wants to know what’s for dinner. ‘Cuz it’s just me. And I do what I want. And that’s how I roll down here. Mostly it’s either a rotisserie chicken picked up at the Publix on nearby Wilmington Island, or spaghetti. Why spaghetti? Because when I first started running away to write down here, I usually stayed at the sweet little Garner cottage owned by our friends Ron and Leuveda.

Garner Cottage–my favorite cottage other than The Breeze Inn

And the tiny apartment-sized stove there only has two burners. So. One burner for the pasta, and one burner for the marinara sauce. Sometimes I go all la-de-damn-da and throw some sauteed Italian sausage or some rotisserie chicken into my (right out of the jar) marinara sauce. Sometimes I add a healthy splash of whatever wine I happen to be sipping. Mostly I sip cheap chardonnay. I have a new favorite cheap wine as of this weekend. It’s called SKN–which stands for Screw Kappa Napa. I spotted the bottle on the shelf because SK are my agent’s initials. The typeface on the label even looks like the typeface on his letterhead. The wine, (not Stuart, he’s way pricier) goes for twelve bucks and some change at Publix, and the chardonnay and the cabernet are surprisingly good. Even Mr. Mary Kay who is somewhat of a wine snob likes the SK cab.

Screw Kappa Napa–the new Official House Wine at Breeze Inn Cottage

I got down here Tuesday and I fixed my spaghetti and chicken, and whirled up some smoothies in the blender for breakfast. And I managed to work out some twists in the manuscript of the new book, which I’m calling SUMMER RENTAL. My editor is calling it something else, but we’ll work that out later. I even managed to write a couple of new chapters. We had a little snafu with the printer, but after I called Mermaid Cottage’s IT guy, he came over and fiddled around and we got it fixed. On Friday Mr. Mary Kay flew in for a conjugal visit. Okay, maybe he also wanted to take his boat out, but that’s what I’m calling it. Friday night we went to dinner at our favorite spot on Tybee, The Sundae Cafe. Yummy as always. On Saturday, after dropping MMK at the marina, I met my friend Tacky Jacky for some junking. Jacky and I have been junking together for more than 30 years, and she sewed all the slipcovers and even the master bedroom curtains for The Breeze Inn. We’ve had some capers together, including the infamous incident where we ended up sleeping at the Metter Jail after a late-night car breakdown. But Saturday we just went gallivanting. Don’t you love that word? We hit a yard sale and I picked up some books for a quarter apiece for our little beach house library, and Jacky got a countertop rotisserie. Then we found ourselves an estate sale, and I bought a great looking console table for $75 that will work perfectly as a writing table/dressing table for the downstairs guest bedroom I’ve been re-doing. Then it was home to check off some items on our honey-do list. Because we rent out the house through Mermaid Cottages, we try to do maintenance stuff in the slower winter months. Tom cleaned out the owner’s closet and added shelves, while I put a couple coats of clear polyurethane on the master bathroom vanity, which is actually an antique dresser I picked up at Brimfield. I also gave our dining room table a coat of tung oil because it was looking kind of tired out. That night, we invited Jacky and her friend Martin, and our friends Jimmy and Susan for dinner. Susan is the madam at Seaside Sisters, where I have my little antique booth, and Jimmy is the owner of Seaside Sweets, the great candy store/gelato shop on Tybrisa. We always like to invite Jimmy to dinner because he brings us whatever new gelato flavor he’s experimenting with. For dinner, I decided to try a recipe from a new cookbook called PIONEER WOMAN COOKS. If you haven’t read Ree Drummond’s blog, PioneerWoman, you must. It’s an account of her transformation from stiletto heel-wearing big city chick to Oklahoma ranch wife–raising four children, cooking for her hunky hubby, whom she calls The Marlboro Man, and all things cattle ranch. The blog features her amazing photography, as does the cookbook, which is a real keeper. Saturday night we made her Penne ala Betsy, which is a shrimp in tomato cream sauce with penne pasta.

Pioneer Woman’s Shrimp Penne Pasta

And by we, I mean MMK. Of course, he had to kick it up a few notches by adding a can of of Rotel tomatoes with chiles, but it was a genius touch. While Tom cooked, I fluffed the house, including setting the table. We almost always invite friends to dinner when we’re at the beach, and I love to surprise our guests by not going with paper plates, but instead using china, pretty glasses and linen napkins, which I pick up on the cheap at estate sales, Homegoods, Tuesday Morning, ect.
Our dinner table setting

Jacky brought along her famous garlic-cheese spread and some good Italian bread, and Susan made an awesome salad. And Jimmy? He brought an amazing mascarpone gelato which we dolloped on top of my brownies and topped with hot fudge sauce. Aunt Bea! That was some good grub. Sunday morning, the weather finally cleared long enough for us to take a spin around the island on the two new/used beach cruisers we just bought from our friend Tim O’Neill at Tim’s Bikes. And then we headed home to Atlanta–in time for monsoon rains. Oh well, we’ll always have Tybee.

So Many Books, So Many Authors

Those fun-loving Pulpwood Queens–with MKA in the middle

I have been to some parties in my time. I was at the Sweet Potato Queen St. Patrick’s Day extravaganza in Jackson, Miss. one time. I’ve done St. Patrick’s Day in Savannah, Pirate Fest on Tybee Island, Ga., and my own Savannah Breeze weekends. Twice. But boy, howdy, Kathy Patrick sure knows how to put on a throw-down of her own. This past weekend I joined some thirty-some other authors at Kathy’s Pulpwood Queens Girlfriends Weekend in Jefferson, Texas for their 10th Anniversary clambake. Kathy owns what is probably the world’s only bookstore/beauty shop combination, Beauty and The Book, in Jefferson, and she is a world-class promoter of book clubs and all things bookish. And what a time we all had. Jefferson is an adorable small east Texas town–with 35 inns and B&Bs. My new friend, author Jenny Gardiner and I stayed at The Hale House Inn, where our hosts Timm and Karen Jackson treated us like royalty and fattened us up with lavish breakfasts. We started off Thursday night with a dinner party at Jefferson’s Excelsior Hotel, where author Janis Owens, of The Cracker Kitchen cookbook, along with some other great cooks, prepared a true Southern dinner of baked ham, gumbo, corn casserole, rolls and yummy desserts.

Hangin’ with my peeps Pat Conroy, Melissa Conroy & Judy Christie at opening party

To show our appreciation for all those book-loving Pulpwood queens, the authors donned aprons and served dinner and bussed dishes. Since I never worked as a waitress, it was a first for me, and I nearly had a gumbo-catastrophe while clowning around with a tray of dirty dishes. On Friday, the parade of author panels began. I was on a panel with Janis Owens and Lauretta Hannon, who has written the funny/tragic MEMOIRS OF A CRACKER QUEEN.

Cracker-jack authors Janis Owens, Lauretta Hannon & MKA


Friday night we were all asked to come up with a fitting costume for The Barbie Ball. For once, my imagination nearly failed me, but at the last minute before leaving for the Atlanta airport, I grabbed a vintage leopard-print coat, a feather boa, and a leopard-print, befeathered pocketbook from my costume closet. Voila! Bitter First Wife Barbie was born, accessorized with a vicious divorce attorney, hefty alimony check and estrogen patch.

My author buddies Patti Callahan Henry, left, and Kerry Madden, right

The Barbie ball-goers were much more imaginative than me, however, coming up with such novel identities as Cougar Barbie, Three-Way Barbie (triplets!), Hippie Barbie, aka my BFF author Patti Callahan Henry, and Original Barbie–who turned out to be a young (very svelte) hairdresser who arrived in Barbie’s original 1959-era black and white striped knit bathing suit, before changing into a floor-length black strapless sheath just like the one my original Barbie owned.

Here I am with the Three-Way Barbies

On Saturday, there were more panels, a ticketed luncheon with Pat Conroy, and that night, the party of all parties, The Hair Ball. This year’s theme was The Wizard of Oz, and Kathy and company outdid themselves. Book clubs competed for the prize of best themed table decorations and best girl
groups.

Good Witches Complete with Mojito Fountain and Light-up shot-glasses

The Good Witches came swathed in white tulle, with Glinda the Good Witch crowns made from glitzed-up trash baskets and decked out their table as a heavenly cloud–complete with a working Mojito Fountain and LED-light-up shot glasses. Another group dosed themselves and their table with a pink theme. They floated a helium balloon above their pink-draped table which even had a working crystal ball with Dorothy’s picture in the middle. Each one of the group was in a different Wizard of Oz costume–but in pink. Still another group made themselves into The Emerald City. I tell ya, it was inspired. The authors did themselves proud too. Our buddy Ad Hudler, author of MAN OF THE HOUSE, dressed himself in black, painted his face and bald head green, and donned a headpiece made to look like a stage with drawn-back green curtains–transforming himself into The Great And Powerful Oz.

Pulpwood Queen Kathy Patrick as Texas Tornado and author Ad Hudler as Great and Powerful Oz


Jenny Gardiner, who has a sick streak like me, came as Judy Garland–the last years, complete with cigarette holder and necklace of prescription pill bottles. Since I didn’t have a real costume, I just treated myself to a makeover from one of Kathy’s artists–complete with Texas-tornado styled big hair, glitter hairspray and thick, spidery fake eyelashes. There were so many more clever, gorgeous costumes I couldn’t quite take it all in.

Mother-daughter team of Lollipop Kids took home Best Costume award

There was a band, and lots of dancing, and laughing and general merriment. And when the weekend was over, we’d all met lots of new friends–women who came to party and celebrate a shared love of books, and authors, people like Kerry Madden, who has a great new children’s biography of Harper Lee, and Jamie Ford, whose New York Times bestselling debut novel, HOTEL AT THE CORNER OF BITTER AND SWEET garnered rave reviews last year, and children’s book author Melissa Conroy, who’s written an adorable picture book called POPPY’S PANTS, and who was accompanied by her famous daddy, Pat Conroy, who wrote a little thing called SOUTH OF BROAD. When I got home Sunday night, I discovered that my sparkle, literally, had worn slap off. The fake eyelashes were MIA, and my feather boa looked like it had been through the wringer what with all that dancing and shimmying. I’m back to plain ol’ unglitzy me again. But next year? Watch out Jefferson!

THE FIXER UPPER GAME

I’ll admit it–six months ago I thought a casual game was like a pick-up poker game. Since then I’ve learned that casual computer games are one of the hottest trends sweeping the nation. And they’re especially popular with people like you–my readers. That’s why I was so excited when the folks at Digironin in North Carolina wanted to create a game based on THE FIXER UPPER. Our game features Dempsey Killebrew and the other characters from THE FIXER UPPER, playing a series of fun, brain-teasing hidden object games based on the plot of the book,–kind of like a scavenger hunt on the computer. And I’m even more excited today, because it’s my launch day! Whoo-hoo! Bring out the champagne and laptops! You can go here and take a free trial run today only. There are other sites where the game will be available too, and it will work for both PCs and Macs. Check it out and let me know if you’re hooked. Oh, and, be sure to spread the word.

Back from Christmas Break

Did you miss me over the holidays? Right now, Christmas and New Year’s seem like a blur. We had family in town for New Year’s–my lil’ sis Patti, her husband and their friends. We did a little partying in the hood, then took off for Tybee on New Year’s Day.
Me and my lil’ sis Patti

Once we got back to Atlanta, it was time to get ready for Scott’s Antique Market, and a jaunt with two of my favorite antique experts–junk buddy Beth from KnickKnackPaddywack Antiques in Raleigh, and uber-designer Eddie Ross. I had a list of items I was hunting for at Scott’s this month, all of it stuff for my project-in-progress, our downstairs guest bedroom. Up until the past year, this had been the lair of Boomerang Boy. I’d decorated it in early hunting lodge motif–with a stuffed deer head, high-backed antique oak bed, and dozens of rustic lake and river-scapes. But now that BB has de-camped for Charlotte, NC, that guest room was looking a little tired. Not to mention the fact that the bed was a double–hardly comfy for the couples who stay with us–and the fact that the bed rails, sadly, were being held up by concrete blocks. Classy, huh? I started the project in the fall, having the walls painted a dreamy pale aqua, and the ceiling painted the same color, cut in half with white. I’ve picked out a creamy linen for drapes, and a cream and aqua check silk for a bedskirt, and an aqua, green and coral linen floral for a comforter cover and pillow shams, but it’s all being made right now. My designer friend Clay and I found a gorgeous antique Italian bench at an estate sale in Buckhead back in October, and the mottled green paint and orangey-coral velvet upholstery were the perfect match for the fabrics I’d picked out. In the meantime, I was trying to wrap my head around paying huge bucks for a custom upholstered rafia headboard that would have been a copy of a Mrs. Howard headboard I spotted last year in HOUSE BEAUTIFUL.

Mrs. Howard’s Pricey Bed

Mrs. Howard’s bed retails for $4,125, and the copy I was studying would have been around $1,800. But I just couldn’t make my hand write that check. Not to mention Mr. Mary Kay would have spit nails if he’d seen said check. Instead, I hunted around, until I found a pretty substitute at Ballard’s Backroom here in Atlanta. It’s the low-profile Louis bed, and it usually sells for $799. I found it just before Christmas on a day when everything in the store was 20 percent off. But my bed was missing the side-rails, so it had been marked down. A stock clerk managed to find a set of rails, but one of the middle support legs was in a different finish, and one of the bed slats was cracked, so the store manager knocked another 25 percent off, and I ended up paying about $350, which made me much happier.
Louis low-profile Bed

Now all I needed was–nightstands, lamps, a dresser, a rug and art. Nightstands were a bit of a problem. I like big, non-rickety nightstands that can hold a reading lamp, books, magazines, a glass of water, ect. And with these modern pillow-top mattresses, I needed something at least 32 inches tall. I also wanted something big and chunky to fill the wall above the headboard, which sits between two narrow windows. I had a starburst mirror in mind, but these can also be pretty pricey–especially if you’re looking for one with some size to it. And I wanted to start looking for art to fill the blank wall opposite the bed. Fortunately, junk buddy Beth came into town Wednesday night so that we could get an early start for set-up day at Scott’s. Beth is my Raleigh friend, and the owner of KnickKnackPaddywhack Antiques. We make a perfect junking team because we both love to travel to Europe, love theatre and love antiques. But Beth buys and sells the really good English and French stuff, while I, mostly buy, good junky stuff. Usually Beth would be shopping at the antique fairs in England this time of year, but wisely, this time around she decided to scoot down to Atlanta to shop with me. Wouldn’t you know it, Thursday morning, we walked in the building and the first dealer we saw had a pair of killer tole lamps that Beth fell for. And a few feet down that same row I found a mirror. It’s big, it’s sunburst, and it apparently fell off a truck at some point. It formerly had a row of mirrored tiles surrounding the mirror, but they were all missing. Which is why I got it for $50. I found a dealer who could restore it, but when I thought about what that might cost, I think I’ve persuaded myself that I actually like it in its current shabby state.
Fifty-Buck Starburst Mirror from Scott’s

Thursday night, the weather people were forecasting snow and nasty weather, but that didn’t stop me from attending a blogger dinner with Eddie Ross, sponsored by the nice folks at Larson-Juhl Frames. The dinner was at the hip n’ happenin’ JCT Kitchen, in Atlanta’s Westside Design District. I met lots of other local bloggers, like Jennifer Boles of Peak of Chic, Rhoda of Southern Hospitality, and the hilarious Tami of Talking With Tami. Eddie and Jaithan were as cute and charming as always, and full of news about plans for upcoming projects. By the way, if you’re in the design district–where Forsyth Fabrics, Lewis & Shearon Fabrics, Ballard’s, and Lamp Art are all located, you totally should check out JCT. Awesome southern food. By the time dinner was over, the snow was really coming down. But a little snow never slowed down this junk posse. All the local schools were cancelled, but Beth and I hit the road for Scott’s anyway. We strolled the aisles, ate our customary Greek food, and then, I spotted ’em. A pair of substantial nightstands. They are three-drawer chests, probably from the ’50s or ’60s, repro French Provincial, which the dealers had painted just the right shade of gray-green., with a wax finish and new hardware. Beth liked ’em too, and urged me to buy them. But I had to stroll around for another hour before I went back, did a little bargaining, and sealed the deal. They were not as inexpensive as I’d hoped, but these are sturdy, all-hardwood, and the perfect size, color and condition, and the price was fair, if not a steal.

The Ballard’s Bed with Scott’s Nightstands

By the time we finished shopping that day, we’d filled up my car, plus Beth’s, not to mention all the stuff Beth bought the previous day. Saturday morning, Mr. Mary Kay packed up Beth’s car and then loaded up our cartop carrier with all the stuff that wouldn’t fit inside her car. Beth headed up 85, home to Raleigh, and I headed up 85, to Larson-Juhl’s offices, where Eddie and Jaithan hosted a really lovely tea and framing demonstration.

Eddie Ross and His Blogging Posse

All the tables were filled with gorgeous flower arrangements made by Eddie. The framing demonstration was really interesting and informative, with Eddie using prints, Wedgewood plates, and moulding and mat samples to illustrate all the choices available when framing. At Eddie’s suggestion, I came away with a scheme to shadow-box frame the souvenir spoons my mother collected in Europe on her honeymoon. And then today, Sunday, I just had to head back to Scott’s one last time. I’d seen Brooke at Velvet and Linen’s blogpost about Love Train Antiques, but had never shopped there before. Love Train is in a separate building in the parking lot at the South Expo. The dealers have tons of European antiques and cool vintage industrial salvage stuff. I scored seven antique French architectural illustrations for the bargain price of five bucks apiece!

French Architectural Prints

Now, I guess I’d better get back to working on my new book so I can afford all that framing I’m dreaming up, not to mention curtains and duvet covers.

A Christmas Gift for You

Dear Friends: My Holiday wish for all my readers is that you are warmed by the love of family and friends at this special time of the year, with good things to eat and drink, and of course, something good to read. Earlier this week I posted a piece about my lemon pound cake, and the story of how my sister Susie and I developed the recipe. Today, I thought I’d share a piece I wrote two years ago, for Atlanta Magazine. I hope you won’t find it too sad, but at this time of year, I think our thoughts turn to those who are no longer with us. Let’s raise a virtual glass to their memory. And to to all of you, from my house to yours, here’s wishing you a joyous holiday and a splendid New Year!

The milk glass cake plate in all its splendor

My sister’s Decatur neighborhood was pretty sketchy ten years ago. Renters came and went, often in the middle of the night. So, on that frigid winter day when we spied a house with a pile of shabby furniture plopped in the middle of the yard, we hardly gave it a second glance. It snowed, and the furniture took on an artful frosted look. But when the thaw came, we noticed something odd growing out of the melting muck. The weather was frigid, but we couldn’t resist walking over to get a closer look. On a dare, I dashed over and picked up the mysterious item, and ran, laughing, to where Susie stood waiting on the curb.

“Look!” I said, breathlessly, holding out the treasure. It was a cake plate, of antique milk glass, with an elegant scalloped edge and a graceful fluted stand. It was perfect, and we couldn’t believe someone would leave it behind. But they had.

Neither of us could give up claim to the cake plate, so we decided it would alternate homes, from her Decatur cottage to my Avondale bungalow. On Christmas Eve, after early children’s Mass, we’d hurry over to Susie’s for her open house. There would stand the milk glass cake plate, adorned with Watershed’s chocolate cake – she’d gotten the recipe from the AJC one year. By New Year’s Day, the cake plate was back in Avondale Estates, for my traditional oyster roast, offering a luscious lemon cream cheese pound cake. By Easter, the plate would be pressed into service for our mother’s three-layer carrot cake with maple-cream cheese frosting.

When we moved to Raleigh six years ago, we quit throwing the New Year’s Day oyster roast. Not long after our move, our mother passed away, and eventually, Susie moved to Florida to help care for our father during his final illness. Christmas Eve suddenly didn’t seem quite so festive any more, now that we weren’t all stuffed into her tiny cottage, nibbling on honey-baked ham and chocolate cake, with the kids sipping their ritual “children’s champagne,”–really just sparkling apple cider–from Susie’s Waterford flutes.

When we did move back to Avondale Estates three years ago, in November, it was a foregone conclusion that the New Year’s Day oyster roast would be reinstituted. Susie missed the party that year, but the cake plate was there, and so was the lemon pound cake.
In July 0f ’07, the unthinkable happened. Susie was on the way to visit us in Avondale – where we’d planned a Fourth of July dinner on the grounds. She never made it. Leaving the interstate in Adel, she was killed in a horrific traffic accident. After we got the news, I met my brother Johnny in Tifton, where we made arrangements to take my sister home one last time.

A few weeks after the funeral, I was poking around down in the basement, looking for Tupperware to pack a batch of cookies for a weekend house party. I didn’t find the Tupperware, but I did find the milk glass cake plate, which I hadn’t seen since our move to Raleigh. I guess it’s mine now, by default. I guess, too, that later tonight, I’ll be digging through Susie’s cookbooks, looking for that bittersweet chocolate cake recipe. Maybe tonight, after we return from early children’s mass, even though her niece and nephew are now grown and of legal drinking age, we’ll even toast my big sister’s memory, with a glass of children’s champagne.

The Christmas Boxes

Maas Bros. Department Store in downtown St. Petersburg
My late mother-in-law Dorothy was a child of the Depression. She’d grown up in a Pennsylvania steel town, married young and never worked outside the home or even learned to drive. Dot was widowed young too, left to raise five children on her own–the oldest being my husband, who was 15 when his father died, and the youngest his seven-year-old baby sister. To say that she was a woman of tremendous spirit, and unstinting faith, is an understatement. Despite the fact that she didn’t drive, I can’t remember a Sunday she didn’t manage to somehow make it to Mass. There was no football or baseball game missed, no swim meet skipped if her children were involved. She was a band booster, a PTA stalwart, a constant presence in the football concession stand. I used to tease her relentlessly about being a “career athletic supporter.” She perfected the art of making do and positive thinking. An expert seamstress, she took in sewing to help make ends meet, and baked thousands of cookies and sweets at Christmas to give as gifts. God love her, she could squeeze a penny ’til it squeaked. Dot was a coupon-clipper extraordinaire. You could always tell if she’d been in your house, because the cans had all been stripped of their labels for couponing purposes. And woe be to you if you threw away an empty cookie tin or a used butter wrapper–“Honey, save that!” was her cry, as she rifled through your kitchen trashcan. At Christmas, she was in her element. She’d saved up all her Crisco and Dixie Crystals coupons, had stashed away bags of chocolate chips bought on special at Publix (her happy place), and in the garage, she had a mountain of Tupperware tubs and holiday tins bought at yard-sales for pennies and nickels, for just such re-gifting purposes. Her oven was ancient and unpredictable, with a door that routinely fell off, but still, Dot managed to turn out her masterpiece cookie trays. Nut roll, a sweet yeast bread with ground pecan filling was her specialty, but then there also the peanut blossoms, date pinwheels, meringues, wedding cookies, congo bars, bird’s nests, jelly-filled thumbprints, and her trademark confection–the lady locks–a flaky puff pastry creation baked around a wooden rod and piped with a cream filling.

When it came to gifting, she was just as thrifty. Every year, the weekend after Thanksgiving, her sons would be directed to put up a ladder to gain access to the “attic” crawl space. Down would come the cartons of ornaments, and more importantly, the boxes of boxes. Of course, Dot saved wrapping paper and ribbon and tissue year-round, but the boxes were her triumph. A gift box at Dot’s house had the half-life of plutonium, which meant that every year you could count on taking a sentimental stroll down retail lane.

Kaufmann’s in downtown Pittsburgh

Come Christmas morning, you’d open your gift from Dot and stare down at a gift box from Kaufmann’s, the “big store” in downtown Pittsburgh, where she hadn’t lived since 1965. Of course, it was unlikely the gift had actually been purchased from Kaufmann’s. More likely it was something she’d picked up on clearance months earlier at the Beall’s Outlet, or another discount store that didn’t have anything as fancy as gift boxes. Or maybe you’d find something encased in crinkled tissue from Webb’s City, a St. Petersburg landmark shuttered in the 1970s. If the gift was a nightie or slip, it likely came in a pink and white striped Belk-Lindsey box–another long-closed retail fixture in our hometown. After my freshman year of college, when I worked as parttime Christmas help at Thalhimer’s in downtown Richmond, there were recycled Thalhimer’s boxes for several years. Better than a Kaufmann’s or Webb’s City box, though, were the stacks of turquoise and white Maas Bros. Department Store boxes with the stylized palm tree emblem that she’d squirrelled away after our wedding in 1976. She especially adored the hard-sided gold foil boxes our wedding china and crystal had been sent in–not to mention the now-yellowed bubble wrap that had swaddled said crystal.

After my husband and I moved to Savannah, and then Atlanta, boxes from the old Levy’s Department Store on Broughton Street in downtown Savannah, and then the iconic Rich’s in downtown Atlanta took their place in Dot’s box of boxes. Every Christmas morning, after the presents were opened, the gift boxes were collected, collapsed and carefully stored in a cardboard carton that went back up to the attic. A heart attack felled Dot in the summer of 1999. It took months to sort through the house she’d lived in for more than thirty years. She’d packed every closet, cabinet and cupboard with the fruits of decades of yard-saling. At the estate sale, we resorted to throwing in a free piece of Tupperware with every item we sold. Ten years later we all still have pieces of Dot’s Tupperware. And at Christmas-time, at our house, somehow, when the cartons of ornaments and decorations come up from the basement, so does the box of gift boxes. My practical husband thinks it’s ridiculous to save the boxes. Why not pop a gift into one of those handy gift bags, or just wrap it in tissue and slap a bow on it? But I’m sentimental. The downtown Maas Bros., where I attended charm school as a teenager and worked as a sales clerk, buying my wedding dress on layaway with my employee discount, met the fate of so many other “big stores” across the country in the ’70s. First it was closed, then it’s identity was subsumed by another retail giant, and then, the final insult, it was bulldozed. Gone too are Kaufmann’s, where Dot shopped on her infrequent trips home to Pittsburgh. It’s called Macy’s now. The old Levy’s store in downtown Savannah is a college library now, and that dear old downtown Rich’s, where I spent many a lunch hour when I worked at the newspaper, was closed and eventually torn down too.


R.I.P. Rich’s in downtown Atlanta

These days, I rarely shop at Macy’s, the entity that also swallowed Rich’s. It’s infantile, but like a lot of other people in Atlanta, I’m still pissed at Macy’s for doing away with the Rich’s name. (I’m pretty sure Chicagoans are also still holding a grudge against Macy’s for doing away with Marshall-Fields.) I like Talbot’s, and their pretty and substantial red gift boxes. And I admit to shopping at Marshall’s and TJMaxx, lured by the promise of low prices. But the discount stores are charmless, and they don’t give you gift boxes, not that I’d want to flaunt that TJ logo anyway. So out come the old Rich’s boxes, augmented by the occasional Orvis or the rare Bloomingdale boxes. The recipients know, and I know they know, their gift probably didn’t come from Bloomies. Or maybe it did. I’ll never tell! And I also know that sometime Christmas morning, when he thinks I’m not looking, my husband will try to slide the used gift boxes into the fireplace along with the wrapping paper. And I know I’ll find myself stopping him, hear myself crying, “Honey, save that!”

Eddie Ross Mon Amour Toujour

Doris and Rock

MKA and Eddie

After our fateful meeting last February, and again in August, I knew Top Design finalist and HGTV star designer Eddie Ross would be returning to me. It was instant chemistry between us–I was Doris Day to his Rock Hudson. You do remember us in LOVER COME BACK, right? Eddie will be back here in Atlanta in January, ostensibly leading another tour of the Scott’s Antique Market, but in reality he just can’t stay away from you-know-who. If you hurry, you can sign up to join him there, and at a fun event at Larson-Juhl Framing. Of course, I’ll be stalking, er, joining him at both events. Gotta make sure that hussy Kathie Lee Gifford isn’t trying to horn in on my man, just because he gussied up her house for the holidays for HGTV. Find info for the events here. And if you’re an Atlanta area blogger, do let Eddie know that too.

Ring in the New Year at The Breeze Inn

Tired of the same old auld lang syne? Take advantage of our change of plans and spend New Year’s at The Breeze Inn on Tybee Island. Our family had planned to do just that this year, and we’d blocked off the cottage for ourselves. But my little sis and her husband and some friends are coming to see us right after Christmas, so we’re going to delay going down until right after the first. This means the cottage is available to you. Gather up some family or close friends and book the Breeze for yourselves. There’s a midnight fireworks display off the beach, or you could go dance up a storm at Doc’s Bar. If you get overserved you can just call the Crab Cab to take you the few blocks back to the Breeze. Or, you could make dinner reservations at The Sundae Cafe or AJ’s or The Hunter House, three of our favorites. Or, just stay in and cook a quiet seafood dinner–pick up the ingredients at Bowie’s Seafood right there on the island. Watch a movie from our DVD library, or watch the big ball drop on the big screen TV. On New Year’s Day, fix yourself some collard greens and black-eyed peas for luck, then go watch all the crazies doing the Polar Bear Plunge on the beach. Oh yeah, there’s always football watching too. Or maybe a long bike ride to work off some of those Christmas calories. And did I mention we’re running a Blue Light Special? Book two (or more) nights and get a third night free. And tell ’em Mary Kay sent you.

Pound Cake–the Ultimate Southern Gift

Lemon Cream Cheese Pound Cake

The original goal was simple: a dense, moist, sublimely sweet pound cake. I’d tasted dozens of variations over the years since I’d moved to Georgia as a young bride. But the art of mastering the pound cake eluded me. No matter what recipe I tried, mine turned out pretty as a picture and as dry as a brick. My sister Susie joined me in this quest. I was working at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution as a features reporter, she was working a few blocks away, a nurse at the emergency room at Grady Memorial Hospital in downtown Atlanta, one of the busiest ERs in the country. At staff gatherings, one of her co-workers, a black lady of a certain age, would bring in the lemon cream cheese pound cake of our dreams. Susie wrangled the recipe out of her, and we made it. And still, no dice. Dry. Dry. Dry. Months later, I was interviewing Shirley Corriher, the Atlanta-based award-winning food chemist and cookbook author. I mentioned our pound-cake roadblock to her, and she came up with some suggestions, after I described the recipe. More fat–meaning a quarter cup of vegetable oil added to the two and a half sticks of butter and eight ounces of cream cheese. More sugar–a quarter cup more, to be precise. Cake flour instead of regular flour. And most importantly, Shirley suggested we bake that baby low and slow–at 325 degrees instead of the 350 the recipe called for, and for 1 hour and 15 minutes. The results were mind-boggling. A pound cake so moist, dense, sweet it would make you slap your mama. And your grandma. The cake became our go-to dessert at family gatherings and potluck suppers. At Christmas, I sent one to my editor in New York, and my literary agent. Word spread. Pound cakes, it seems, were a novelty to jaded Yankees. The next year, at Christmas, I added a few names to the list of cake recipients. My publicist. My editor’s assistant. The head of paperback sales. And the next year, it was gently suggested that the head of marketing might like a cake. Also the head of publicity. And let’s not forget the folks who produced the audio versions of my books. And the art director–the person who was responsible for giving me those good-looking best-seller book jackets. And the telereps–the women I refer to as “the girls in the back office” who hyped my books to independent bookstores all over the country–didn’t they deserve a cake for Christmas? The years passed, and as my books became more successful, I became more grateful for the publishing and agenting team responsible for that success. The year after I had my first New York Times bestseller, I woke up a couple weeks before Christmas and realized that my list had grown to 30 cakes. Yes. Thirty. By then we were living in Raleigh, NC, and my kitchen came with an enormous Viking stove, plus a wall oven. If I really squeezed, I could bake six poundcakes at once. Of course, I had to hire my cleaning lady to come help do the prep work. And it took me two more days to wrap and package the cakes, plus trundle them off to the UPS store for shipping. I think that was the year that I later learned we’d mixed up the shipping labels, sending cakes with inside cards addressed to “Mr. Q.” to “Mr. Z” instead. The year after that, we moved back to Atlanta. We’d only been in our new house two weeks when it came time to start baking the Christmas pound cakes. I hadn’t even unwrapped all our cookware. And so I came to a compromise. I would still send out my full list of cakes. They would still be baked from my recipe. And they would be home-made. Just, not all of them made in my home. I found a small neighborhood bakery who would sub-contract the baking of half the cakes, from my recipe. Life was good. The recipients were still grateful. And I was able to relax and get on with Christmas preparations. I even managed to write a little. This year’s cake-baking took place two weeks ago. I hired my daughter Katie to come over and be my sous-chef, measuring out the flour and sugar, separating the eggs, and unwrapping all those blocks of cream cheese and butter. We managed to turn out eight cakes in one morning. On Friday, the recipients started letting me know they’d gotten their cakes, and how delicious they were. Last week, I got an email from one of the recipients, who was out of his office when his cake arrived. He assumed, he said, it was delicious, so thanks ever so for the PUMPKIN CAKE. Pumpkin cake????

LEMON CREAM CHEESE POUNDCAKE

Turn off the phone and shut out any other distractions when making this cake. It’s a bit of work, but the results are definitely worth it. I usually bake two cakes at a time when I get started, one to serve (or give as a gift) and one to pop into the freezer. Since it’s such a large cake, you can always slice and serve half, and freeze the other half for later.

Preheat oven to 325. Spray bundt pan with floured baking spray
2-1/2 cups unsalted butter
1 8-oz. pkg. cream cheese
¼ cup vegetable oil
3-1/4 cups granulated sugar
5 egg whites
7 egg yolks—yes, this means you’ll discard the two extra egg whites unless you’ve got plans for ‘em.
1 tsp. lemon extract
1 tsp. vanilla
3 cups cake flour
¼ tsp. salt
Beat five egg whites until stiff and set aside
In mixing bowl, beat together butter, cream cheese and vegetable oil. Add in sugar and cream well. Beat in lemon extract and vanilla. Add egg yolks one at a time and beat well. In smaller bowl combine flour and salt, beat into batter, adding flour mixture by thirds. Fold in beaten egg whites, pour into prepared bundt pan and bake for approximately 1 hour and 30 minutes—check for doneness with wooden toothpick. Let cool 5 minutes, then remove from pan onto cooling rack and finish cooling. Wrap tightly with plastic wrap or store in large ziplock bag for freezing. You may choose to add a lemon glaze.