The dish on DEEP DISH LAUNCH

So, I had some details wrong in yesterday’s blog about theDEEP DISH launch party. Here’s the real poop. No $100 tickets, thank gawd. It’s $35–and you get a book and drinks and yummy food. Or come for free later, and bring your own sippy cup and buy books.
http://www.wordsmithsbooks.com/deepdish.html

From a hotel room in Columbia, SC

From a hotel room in Columbia, SC
I’m here in beautiful downtown Columbia–no, really, it is a lovely city, despite the fact that the school colors for USC are red and black–and they play UGA in the SEC, and we love all things UGA. We are celebrating the 15th anniversary of the Richland County Public Library, and a lovely library it is, big and bold and accessible and staffed by the smartest, most enthusiastic staff I’ve seen in a long time. Friday night they had a cocktail reception for Friends of the Library and staff, and I got to meet lots of nice folks, including the other two guest authors, Dr. Andrew Billingsley, who is a distinguished professor of family and African-American studies at USC and an author, and Anita Lobel, who writes and illustrates charming children’s books. This morning was the coolest thing ever. They had us read aloud at Children’s Storytime. It was such a blast! There were about 150 children and their parents, and I got to choose my book. Called, LLAMA, LLAMA, RED PAJAMA. Oh, how I wish I’d written that book. It is clever and funny, and the children seemed to love it as much as I did. And then, some of the library staff and friends took me to lunch–and junking. Now, what more can you ask from an organization? Free food, free bed, reading to adorable children, and JUNK!. We went to an antique mall called The Old Mill, and I got lots of goodies for Maisy’s Daisy, my antique booth at Tybee Island. I bought a paint by number scene of fishing boats, a way cool painting of people fishing on a boat and catching a swordfish that appears to be twice the size of the boat, and a vintage tin child’s cash register, probably from the 50s. I’ll fly home to Atlanta today, then it’s back to work on the FIXER-UPPER. Oh, and in the meantime, we’re finalizing arrangements for the launch party for DEEP DISH, which will be at Wordsmith’s Books in Decatur, on Feb. 25th. It’s the first time I’ve had a launch party. We’re selling tickets–$100 for the VIP cocktail portion–you get a goody bag with the book, and other freebies–and profits from this go to a charity that helps provide education for young people interested in culinary school. Regular tickets cost $35, and that gets you the book, goody bag, cocktails, food, ect. Of course, if you come at 7 pm, you get in for free to buy your book. And everybody who buys a book gets their name put in the hat for a great door prize–a $500 gas grill that’s being provided by my friends over at ATLANTA GAS LIGHT.
Cool, huh?

My brand new baby!


When I got home from my beach jaunts to Savannah and St. Pete I had two big boxes on my doorstep. My new baby has arrived! The finished copies of DEEP DISH are here, and I couldn’t be more pleased. Having a book published really is kinda like giving birth–except no stretch marks, poopy diapers or midnight feedings. I did the happy dance all around the house when I saw the finished book. We worked really hard getting everything right with this book. Of course, story always comes first, but once the story is written, copy-edited, proofed and set in type, the visual and marketing stuff comes into play. I’ve been so fortunate to have a great team at HarperCollins, from my amazing editor Carolyn, to the art director, marketing and pr folks to sales reps. And my agent, Stuart, is an important part of that team too. And my daughter Katie, who spent her teens working in a bookstore and is getting a degree in marketing, plus she’s visual, plus she’s Katie, always consults on this stuff. You can’t believe the nit-picky stuff we worked on to get the look of the jacket. The color swatches–I wanted coral–flirty, fun, beachy–not orange, not pink. Coral. And lime green for the type. Three or four different tries for the paper before we got it right with the finished product. The typefaces on my books are all custom done by an artist to get just the right “MaryKayAndrews” look–these are not stock fonts that you can get on the internet. And then there was the illustration. I lost count of how many variations we tried before we came up with a man and a woman playing tug of war with a chef’s toque. First the man’s arms were too wimpy, then the woman’s wasn’t right, on and on it went. And all during this time, of course, I’m also working on the new book, and the folks at Harper are getting ready to publish gawd knows how many other books. But the books are done. I think they look peachy and beachy and luscious, and they will cry out to be bought and taken home and devoured like a big ol’ Mary Kay-flavored slushie. So. Not to nag or anything, but have you pre-ordered your BOATLOAD of DEEP DISH–due out Feb. 26?

More Beach junking

When last we left our intrepid author/junker, she was lounging around Tybee Island for a couple days.So. Monday morning I went wandering around Tybee, and what did I spot? A table–in the ditch! Yes, friends, people really do throw out perfectly good furniture. Because the back of my car was already full of junk, I went back to my friends, the Garners, and told them of my find. Ron Garner is a dream man. He loves to junk, does household chores, and is a fabulous dancer. And yes–believe it or not, he’s straight! He and his wife, Leuveda, even met at one of the shagging conventions at Myrtle Beach years ago. A couple years ago when I was staying at Garner Cottage, I was out for a bike ride when I spotted a huge dumpster in front of a cottage that had been moved to a vacant lot down the road from the Garners. Peeking out of the top of the dumpster was the corner of something metal and jadeite green. I pedalled back to Garners just as fast as my chubby little legs would go and alerted Ron and Leuveda. We all went back to stare at the dumpster. It was very tall. But so is Ron. And Ron loves a challenge. So he performed an amazing feat of dumpster diving–actually climbing up and crawling inside this giant trashbin. Once inside, he told us that the find was an old two-door locker cabinet–about six feet tall. He promptly fashioned a chute from a couple of discarded boards, and slid the locker down the chute to where we were waiting. Today, the cabinet sits on the “veranda” level of their cottage. It has watering cans on top, and gardening tools inside. Quel cute! Monday’s find was a little pine table, painted lime green. It has snazzy turned legs. Leuveda has plans for that table. I spent the rest of the day–which was sunny and glorious, painting the little Eastlake dresser I’d picked up at the yard sale. It is now a sweet jadeite green too. I supposedly sold it to my friend Diane, who owns Mermaid Cottages. But it turned out so cute…I’m having second thoughts…Later that day, somebody told me that when you find good stuff on the curb/ditch, that’s called “shopping at the Tybee Mall.” In the meantime, I’m having a little family reunion down in my hometown of St. Pete, with my sister Patti, who is an actress/playwright/director in England. We’ve had a couple of great junking trips on Central Avenue already, and have plans to hit some estate sales this morning too. On Thursday, I scored a pair of large yellow McCoy flowerpots, a pink and teal chenille bedspread, a great little watercolor painting of Bermuda, and a large paint-by-number hibiscus picture. Yesterday I got a rusty red metal toolbox–for fifty cents! Of course, St. Pete is where I honed my junking skills with my mom. One time she and I went to an estate sale down the beach from her real estate office–and she ended up buying the house and everything in it. I’ve actually also managed to fit in some writing this week. THE FIXER UPPER is now officially at the 105 page mark! Yay me!

Post-Festival Chill-Out

The Savannah Book Festival was really great. Saturday morning dawned bright and beautiful, so you KNOW I went junking. Found a yard sale in Ardsley Park (very nice Savannah neighborhood–aka old money, old junk)and bought a cool Eastlake dresser with glass drawer pulls. I’m going to paint it jadeite green and put it at Maisy’s Daisy. My talk seemed to go well. It was at Trinity Church, a beautiful old church on Telfair Square. To my surprise, we had a packed church. Of course I couldn’t say bad words in church, and I had to restrain myself from genuflecting when I got near the altar, but other than that it was all good. I made everybody swear to run out and buy multiple copies of DEEP DISH so I can make the New York Times bestseller list and buy a beach house. As I’ve said, they really know how to party well in Savannah. A trolley picked up all the authors at their hotels and took us to the aforesaid Ardsley Park for a progressive dinner party. No surprise, several members of the Ardsley Park Supper Club were our hosts. The fabulous Johnathon Barrett and Tom White served appetizers and cocktails (fried oysters on little Chinese porcelain spoons, gorgeous shrimp, teensy little ‘mater sammiches which were the work of my friend and cookbook writer Martha Giddens Nesbitt). Then we tottered down the block to the home of Brooks and Carolyn Stillwell for our entree and yet MORE alcohol. After that we staggered over to the Belfords for desserts and after dinner libations. I had the chance to chat with Charles Shields, who wrote MOCKINGBIRD, the biography of Harper Lee, which I read and loved recently. At some point we were loaded onto a trolley and delivered back to our hotels. Thank Gawd for the trolley.
Yesterday Mr. Mary Kay flew back home and I stayed in Savannah to chill out. I resisted the urge to attend SuperBowl parties. Instead I climbed into the big fluffy white bed at my friend Ron and Leuveda Garner’s cottage. I read decorator porn and slept. At some point in the night I dreamt I got fired from the Atlanta Journal Constitution. It was very upsetting, despite the fact that I have not worked for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution in nearly 17 years. When I’m stressed or worried, I always dream either that an AJC editor is forcing me at gunpoint to write some stupid story on deadline, or that they are firing me. I may need counselling.

From a hotel room in Savannah

I’m down here for the inaugural SAVANNAH BOOK FESTIVAL, and I must say the weather gods are smiling–it’s supposed to get up to 70 today. We’re promised a sunny, gorgeous day to wander around the most beautiful city I know, listen to authors, buy books, talk books, breathe books. Last night’s kick-off talk was by my friend Terry Kay. Terry is another fellow AJC alum. His new novel, THE BOOK OF MARIE, is getting rave reviews, but many of you know him from the book that was made into the movie,
TO DANCE WITH THE WHITE DOG. The talk was given at the gorgeous old Lucas Theatre in downtown Savannah. What fun it is to sit in a restored 1920s movie house and see some 800 people raptly listening to talk about Southern writing. Terry was introduced by John Berendt, who wrote a little thing called MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL. After the talk, there was a cocktail reception in another restored building that now houses Harry Norman Realty. My hostess for the weekend,Carolyn Stillwell, is one of the top agents for HN, and not coincidentally, one of the charter members of The Ardsley Park Supper Club. If you’ve read SAVANNAH BLUES, you may remember the scene where a very nervous Weezie attends a dinner given by the APSC. The scene was inspired by my own evening with the supper club. Let me just say that in Savannah, you will never be thirsty! Not to be a name-dropper or anything, but last night I got to chat with fellow authors Michael Malone (HANDLING SIN), Paul Hemphill, (LONG GONE, THE NASHVILLE SOUND, ect.), his wife Susan Percy, who edits Georgia Trend magazine, the aforementioned Kay, and lots of Savannah book-lovers. I even struck up a coversation with another fellow former journalist, and we discovered we went to the same junior high–Bay Point, in St. Pete. My talk will be at 12 today, so if you have a chance, come on down to Savannah to say hey.

Hair to dye for

Okay, I’ll admit it. I color my hair. I started going gray at 16, but put off coloring it until I was somewhere in my thirties. My hair is naturally curly, very coarse and very dry, so those gray hairs stick up like crazy gray antennae. I don’t even attempt to color it myself. I’ve heard too many of those color catastrophe stories, and let’s face it–we all have at least one girlfriend who always has a big patch of gray at the top or back of her head that she can’t see–but we can. I have one friend who always has a gray halo because she insists on coloring it herself. People! If you must do this yourself, get your husband or girlfriend or somebody to glop that stuff on the back of your head for you! Also, just because you had coal black hair at sixteen (like me) doesn’t mean that it looks normal for you to be walking around with Morticia Addams hair at fifty. And don’t get me started on old ladies who dye their hair I Love Lucy Red in their seventies. Okay, rant over. The other reason I pay cranky Doug (whom I secretly adore) lots of money to do my hair is that I like the results. The process he uses leaves my hair much softer and shinier. Not to mention not gray. And I’m not ready to go totally gray yet. Sunday, I went to a wedding shower for my college roommate’s daughter. The shower was sweet, and the bride-to-be is beautiful, and I got to catch up with another roommate whom I hadn’t seen in a couple years. Lyle’s hair has gone totally gray. And her gray is lovely. It’s shiny and cut in a flattering style. At the end of the shower her husband came by to pick her up, and I remembered why it’s okay for Lyle to go totally gray. Her husband–who is three years younger–is totally white-haired! My husband, Mr. Mary Kay, has only a healthy sprinkling of gray in his dark hair. I am a month older than he. Of course, we realize that most men CAUSE our gray hair, or, as Doug calls them, “stress highlights.” So, as you can see, I will not be going totally gray until he does. I am just not ready to be mistaken for his mom, or to be fitted for a set of Barbara Bush pearls and a granny swimsuit. Yet.

This n’ That

It has been WEEKS since I had a good junk jaunt. Okay, two weeks to be exact. But still…There were a couple of decent sounding estate sales in the AJC yesterday, and I hoped to get up early and hit them. But life got in the way. A case of poopie puppy sent us to the vet, so that ate up the morning. And then I had to go buy baby food and feed it to her. And I’d SWORN by all that’s holy that I would write a whole chapter yesterday. So I stayed home, and I did. I finished Chapter 10 of THE FIXER-UPPER, and I was doing the happy dance all over the place. Only one member of the posse, Jinxie, could saddle up today. But we went to Buckhead and then to Roswell, and then back to Buckhead, and I did find some goodies. My favorite find is the circa 1968 oil painting of the shrimp boats in Thunderbolt, which is a little fishing town just before you get to Tybee Island, outside Savannah. It is destined for Maisy’s Daisy, once I figure out how to spruce up the frame, which looks like it was bought at Lee Wards at about the same time. Also found 12 great scalloped ironstone salad or dessert plates. They are really elegant looking–would make a great wall accent. I’ve decided they might be French–but did the French even make ironstone? Don’t know. Also bought an antique twin brass bed. Very fetching. Here’s a coinky-dink. This week I was checking out the new Gourmet magazine website, which is really nice. There was a neat essay about the Betty Crocker Boys and Girls Cookbook, which was originally published in 1957. The author reminisced about cooking through the book as a youngster. I remember that book, too. Especially the bunny rabbit salad, which consisted of canned pear halves placed on lettuce leaves, with ears fashioned from blanched almonds and tails from “cottage cheese balls.” So very retro. The recipe right next to the rabbit salad is for something called rocket salad. Giggle. I’m sorry, but this is so, giggle, phallic! Perfect for Valentine’s Day, if your sweetie has a sense of humor. You take a pineapple slice for the “launching pad” and inside it you place half of a peeled banana, upright, for the rocket. Now, the “nose cone” consists of half a maraschino cherry toothpicked to the top of the banana. heeehehehehehee. Here’s the link to the essay.
I bought the “new” version of the cookbook, which was updated in 1973. Can’t decide whether I should take it to Maisy’s Daisy, or keep for my own future grandchildren.

Breeze Weekend–Part II

As I was saying before life rudely interrupted…Saturday night’s GoodGawdAmighty Party in Your Nightie event was held at the Fresh Air Home. The home acts as a summer camp for inner-city, under-priveledged or just “in crisis” kids who need a week at the beach. It sits on a gorgeous plot of land right on the ocean, and the old red brick buildings are really atmospheric. Part of the proceeds from the weekend’s festivities go to Fresh Air Home, and part go to St. Michael’s School. We had a fun girl band playing when everybody walked in Saturday night, and the bar was serving the Blue Breeze, our signature cocktail from SAVANNAH BREEZE, all served in fun flamingo or palm tree glasses. In between all the dancing–picture emcee Jeffrey twirling around the floor in his tuxedo, surrounded by a sea of boa-wearing women to “Dancing Queen”–it was that kinda night–we had the final rounds of the Miss Savannah Breeze pageant. The first round consisted of the ladies parading in their festive pajama-wear. Several groups of women had cleverly concocted matching pjs for their posses. The real fun came with the “talent” portion of the evening. And when I say talent, I mean that in the loosest possible interpretation. One gal did a rap about the weekend with her posse. Another read an original poem she’d written. Still another–one of those wacky Middle Georgia girls–demonstrated how to have “big hair” through judicious use of styling product. But the winningnest–and weirdest–talent came from a 60-something retired algebra teacher named Linda who demonstrated a talent she’d picked up from her daughter during said daughter’s sorority rush at Auburn University. This talent is called “butt quarters”. Well, I warned you about the Auburn connection. Let me just say that the talent was performed while fully clothed–albeit in a pair of side-slashed, rhinestone-studded jeans that looked like they’d been freshly pried from the body of some back-alley hoochie-mama. How could we not name Linda Miss Savannah Breeze? Linda and her daughter Happy were thrilled to pieces! After the crowning we had more dancing, drinking, and miscellaneous hilarity. By 10-ish my own sparkle was starting to seriously wear off, so I took myself off to bed, while others did the Tybee pub crawl, which mostly consists of Doc’s Bar. The next morning we met for brunch at the wonderful home of tour operator Linda Odum, for yet more bloody mary’s and mimosas before saying good-byes. Some of the women even stuck around ’til Monday for a tour of nearby Beaufort, S.C., where they hit my favorite shop there, M Designs. Here’s another gallery of photos:
http://spotted.savannahnow.com/galleries/index.php?id=327133

A Good Time Was Had By All

At least–I had a good time, and from all the reports I heard, the other 65 breezers who attended the 2nd Annual Savannah Breeze weekend also enjoyed themselves. We started the weekend on Friday with a margarita meet n’ greet in the gym of St. Michael’s Parochial School, a tiny but wonderful Catholic school on Tybee. We had a band, the preliminary round of the Miss SB contest, the aforesaid margaritas, and lots of hilarity, courtesy of a really fun bunch of women. We had a posse from Mississippi, one from Colorado, North Carolina, Florida, St. Louis, MO, and even a breezer from L.A. Of course, plenty of folks came down from Atlanta, and we had a very cool band of chicks from Middle Georgia–which, come to think of it, is the home of Central State Hospital at Milledgeville–which used to be the state home for the criminally insane. I’m just sayin’…Anyway, it was big fun. We had four returnees from last year, plus the vivacious, talented and bootielicious Jeffrey–who was the weekend’s emcee again. I believe Jeffrey might have been enjoying some of the adult beverages, based on the fact that at one point in the evening, he allowed himself to be coerced into donning a Savannah Breeze nightshirt–underneath which he sported some lizardskin cowboy boots–and not much else that I am aware of. Not that I checked or anything. If I had the legs and hiney Jeffrey has, I would walk around in a nightshirt, feather boa and boots all day and all night. Alas, I do not. I think everybody in the room agreed that every woman needs a gay best friend, and that Jeffrey would do very nicely. We also all agreed that what goes on Tybee stays on Tybee. Nevertheless, as far as I know, there were virtually no arrests and nobody was hospitalized. Which is always a plus. On Saturday morning, our trolleys picked everybody up at their cottage or hotel to take them into town for a day of shopping. Some people must have caught “the margarita virus” that was going around, because sadly, they did not feel up to joining us at 9am. Saturday. Our first stop was at Seaside Sisters, where we’d all stocked up for goodies for the big day. The weather Saturday in Savannah was really dreadful–cold, windy and rainy. At least it didn’t snow, like it did at home here in Atlanta. But we braved it out and managed to shop our way around downtown Savannah, starting at @Home, my favorite shop, where the adorable Liz Demos greeted us with mimosas and other yummy tidbits. After that, it was back on the trolleys and over to the Metts Mansion on Forsyth Park, which is a gorgeous 19th century showplace, which happens to be owned by Dr. James Metts, who is the longtime local coroner. Fortunately, Dr. Jimmy does his work elsewhere. Just in case our blood alcohol levels got dangerously low, we were all fortified by bracing mint juleps. We had a fabulous lunch catered by Paula Deen’s restaurant, The Lady and Sons–fried chicken, country fried steak, mac n’cheese, collard greens, candied sweet potatoes, biscuits and peach cobbler. Tomorrow I’ll post a pic of a group of us sitting on the mansion’s stairway–barely able to stay upright due to the large amounts of carbs, sugar and alcohol we’d all consumed. Thank Gawd we had a heated bus waiting outside to take us back to Tybee. Tomorrow I’ll post Part II of the Breeze Report. To see a bunch of photos of the festivities just click http://spotted.savannahnow.com/galleries/index.php?id=327133