Happy holidays, y’all. Are you as crazed as I am? I have been decorating, shopping, and baking, oh my! Well, my holiday newsletter just went out this morning. If you are not yet signed up to receive it, you can read it here. And be sure to enter your e-mail address under “Newlsetter Signup” on the right side of my homepage so you can be sure to get all future issues.
I have two exciting announcements:
1. Win a Pin!: I have snagged a vintage Eisenberg ice blue rhinestone Christmas tree pin (just like the one that has a starring role in the plot of my novella Blue Christmas) and I want to give it away to one of you!
This vintage Eisenberg ice Christmas tree pin could be yours!
E-mail us at [email protected] with “MKA Holiday Mishap” in the subject field and tell me all about your favorite holiday catastrophe. Every family has at least one of these stories…you know, the out-and-out epic debacles that seem dreadful in the moment but become pee-your-pants funny over time and grow more legendary with each re-telling. I’ll pick my fave and that person will get the pin. The 2nd place winner will get an equally cute reproduction of this same pin. The top 5 entries will all get an autographed hardcover copy of Blue Christmas.
2. Cheap E-Books!: Because I know how you love a holiday bargain, the Blue Christmas e-book is marked down to $1.99 now thru December 23rd.
Regardless of what type of e-reading device you have, everywhere that e-books are sold, the Blue Christmas e-book should now be set to the promotional price. So go download it—and steal away some reading time for yourself in the midst of all the holiday hub-bub.
Good luck! Can’t wait to read your stories.
OK, enough blogging. These gajillion poundcakes are not going to bake themselves. And then there’s the wrapping. Oh, the wrapping!
Yes, it’s cake day again. That merry, messy, sugary, achy-breaky back-achey marathon where I bake a dozen lemon cream cheese pound cakes to send my publishing peeps in New York. I’ve got my Christmas CDs playing: last year’s Glee Christmas album, Johnny Mercer, Frank Sinatra, and my all-time favorite, Phil Spector’s 1963 compilation album A Christmas Gift For You with the incomparable Darlene Love singing Christmas, Baby Please Come Home. If you don’t own this album, do yourself a favor and get it.
In case you missed my last year’s blogpost about this annual event, here’s a re-cap of how I got started.
A lifetime ago, when I was working as a reporter for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, I interviewed Atlanta food writer Shirley Corriher for an article, which, ironically, had nothing to do with food. I knew that Shirley was trained as a food chemist, and in the course of our interview, I asked her why my pound cakes always came out too dry. I recited the ingredients of the lemon cream cheese pound cake recipe I was using, which had been given to my sister Susie by another emergency room nurse at Grady Memorial Hospital. If we baked it as long as the recipe directed, it was too dry. Less time and it came out undercooked.”Hmm,” Shirley said. “Try this. Add another quarter cup of sugar. Stir in a quarter cup of vegetable oil. And add two extra egg yolks. Cut your oven temperature back to 325, and let it bake additional time.”
Et voila! A perfect, moist, amazing pound cake. Susie and I made pound cakes at Christmas. We made them at Easter, topped with strawberries and whipped cream, and for the Fourth of July, with peaches and blueberries. I took pound cakes to covered dish suppers and funeral luncheons. At one point, the recipe ran in the AJC’s food section. And at some fateful moment, I decided to bake a pound cake for my editor and agent, and ship them off to New York as Christmas gifts. The cakes were a hit. To my surprise, I discovered that “up north” pound cakes are considered something of a Southern regional specialty. The next Christmas, I added my agent’s assistant, my editor’s assistant, and my publicist to the list. Again, a hit. And so it began.
Every year, I would add somebody in New York to the Christmas cake list. The publisher, the head of marketing, the head of paperback marketing, the head of publicity, the people in library sales, the telereps in Scranton. Everybody who touched my books, basically, got a pound cake for Christmas. Or at least a share in the cake for their department. I’ll never forget the day my agent called with the news that polite hints were being dropped that I should bake cakes for the buyers at the big chain bookstores. Huh?
One Christmas, about five years ago, I woke up in a panic, realizing that my pound cake list had grown to 30. I’d gotten the cake-baking down to a science. I’d acquired four Bundt pans, and had figured out how to bake two cakes per shift. I’d hired my cleaning lady to assist on what I came to call “cake day”–separating eggs and measuring out the flour and other dry ingredients. On a good day, I could bake as many as ten cakes. And then have to take to the sofa with the Ibuprofen and heating pad. But 30 cakes? All of which had to be baked, wrapped, and hauled off to the UPS Store for shipping?
Boxes lined up for shipping
That was the year I caved in and began out-sourcing some of the baking to a small bakery in my neighborhood. It’s still my recipe, and the key people in the life of my book still get a pound cake baked by me personally, but at least now I can manage to face December without cringing. Last year I baked twelve out of the 28 pound cakes. And lived to tell about it, thanks to my amazing assistant Grace, who came to work on “cake day” even though she wasn’t feeling well. As soon as the cakes started arriving, excited emails began popping up in my in-box.
Nothin' says lovin' like sumthin' from the oven
“YUM” read the subject line in one typical missive. “Lemon cream cheese lusciousness” was how Meg described her cake. So it was totally worth doing. This year’s cakes are in the oven, and tomorrow is “shipping day.” Between baking cakes to send folks at both my new and old publishing houses, our kitchen is covered with flour—and I’ve already run out of sugar and cream cheese, plus I’ve gone through the crate of seven and a half eggs I bought at Costco. Boomerang Boy is hanging around the kitchen hoping one of the cakes will be too ugly to send off-which means he gets to cut into it. If you’ve got a yen for the perfect old-fashioned “Southern” pound cake, give this one a go. Although, take my advice, and do NOT start sending these as Christmas gifts. Unless you have plans to open your own bakery
This year's cake ready to be shipped.
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. Another note: the whipped egg whites mean the cake batter may spill over the edges of the pan, so make sure you have a large bundt pan–or place your pan on a cookie sheet to catch any overflow.
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, made wi
A frosty wreath and vintage aqua ornaments in mercury glass bowl on chest by front door.
Mr. Mary Kay and I took a quick trip down to Tybee last week to get The Breeze Inn decorated for our Christmas guests. We don’t overload the house because it’s small, and we want to keep it uncluttered, but each year I try to come up with a Blue Christmas-y look. This year we added the wreath to the rattan mirror above the chest, and I piled some estate sale aqua glass balls in a mercury glass bowl.
My version of a Blue Christmas tree.
I picked up a four-foot pre-lit tree at Target along with all these trimmings, and was thrilled with how nice it looks. I topped it with a glittery hot pink star. Found a box of 50 blue, aqua and silver ornaments, and added it, along with some strings of hot-pink beads.All the ornaments are actually plastic, although they look like glass, so if one gets dropped, no heartache for our guests. The tree sits on a rattan table in front of the bookshelves in the living room. I wrapped a piece of vintage lime-flowered barkcloth around the plastic base of the tree.
On Tybee, Santa gets around on a vintage bike!
I scored this vintage white bike at Scott’s antique market last summer, and then wrapped the frame with blinking white mini-lights. That was the most time-consuming chore of the week. Mr.Mary Kay is in charge of lights and the faux evergreen garland. He did a great job, don’t you think?
All ready for Christmas.
The nice part about our decorations is that after the holidays, they can all be popped in a big bin and stored in the attic until next year. Now, I just have to get our house in Atlanta decorated. Mr. MKA is way ahead of me. The outside lights are up, the tree is in the house and lit up, now the rest of it is up to me. Stay tuned for pix of our Blue Christmas coming later this week–along with a very cool contest.
Well, I think I gained 10 lbs just reading all the amazing entries in my fall contest. In exchange for the chance to win an autographed copy of Paula Deen’s Southern Cooking Bible, I asked you to tell me your favorite comfort food. Boy did I get a ton of feedback! In fact, with nearly 350 entries, this was my most popular contest ever. And the entries were so varied. Hands down the most votes overall came in for mac & cheese and there were also plenty of votes for other old standbys like meatloaf with mashed potatoes, fried chicken, and chili. But there were also nods to soups and stews, cakes and brownies, cheesy grits and country fried steak. I heard several cries for “anything chocolate” and “anything pumpkin.” Popcorn and venison each also got a mention. Who knew?
I loved hearing from those of you who wrote in about old family recipes, like Alison, who told me about how her family all knew it was a special night when her Mo-Mo got out the big stock pot and her rolling pin to whip up her famous chicken and dumplings. Terri wrote in about how her grown children still beg her to make “Mawmaw’s Mac and Cheese,” Julie told me about “porcupine meatballs” (a new one on me). I think I need to try Jill’s grouper chowder even though my husband does not run a charter fishing business like hers does. It made my heart glad (and arteries clog) to hear about regional delicacies like Pennsylvania Dutch potato filling, Cajun gumbo, and Eastern Carolina oyster stew.
A special thanks to those of you who actually sent me your recipes too! Like Shirley who sent me her mother’s recipe for stuffed peppers and Sandra for the delish sounding recipe for smoked sausage and white bean soup. When I polish those off I’m gonna try Corinne’s squash soup. There were many more that I will need to print out and keep on file. Oh, boy, does Mr. MKA have some treats in store for him this fall.
Without further ado, the winner is Jessica Dixon from Petoskey, MI who told me all about her grandmother’s cinnamon rolls whose “smells wrapped around us like a warm blanket.” Well, pass ‘em over here! Congrats, Jessica! Miss Paula will send your book out to you in a jiffy. Thanks to all who entered. And thanks, as always, for your support and enthusiasm. Y’all are the best. Love, MKA
Hey. So my fall newsletter just went out. Are you signed up to receive it? If not, enter your e-mail address under “Newlsetter Signup” on the right side of my homepage so you can be sure to get all future issues. I send out about 3 or 4 a year–I’m not an in-box clogger! If you didn’t get the latest issue, you can read it here. Since fall is all about comfort food, I am sharing my son’s favorite dessert recipe with you: “Boomerang Boy’s Apple Crisp.” For my latest contest, I am asking you to tell me about your all-time favorite comfort food. Just shoot us an e-mail at [email protected] with “Paula Deen Giveaway” in the subject field and tell us what down-home, stick-to-your-ribs goodness melts away your stresses and gives you the warm-and-fuzzies. Since my friend Paula Deen is the undisputed queen of comfort food, it makes sense that the prize for this contest comes from her.
win a signed copy!
Paula has generously agreed to send an autographed copy of her brand new book (Paula Deen’s Southern Cooking Bible) to the lucky winner I choose at random. So, speak up. Let me know what you whip up when there’s a chill in the air and you need that no-place-like-home feeling. Good luck! And happy fall, y’all!
This morning was gloriously cool and bright in Atlanta–perfect fall junking weather. Posse member Jinxie and I headed out to a very promising “Meemaw” estate sale in nearby Virginia-Highlands. What is a “Meemaw” sale? It’s the real-deal old-lady kind of sale–where nothing has been replaced (or cleaned!) in decades. You know you’ve hit a Meemaw sale when you see either a walker, bedpan or potty-chair on the front porch. Today’s sale had walkers AND bedpans, so that was promising.
It was a sweet little duplex and by leaving at 7:30 a.m. (and driving past all those annoying health-nut runners) we were there when they opened at 8. Meemaw sales are growing increasingly rare around here, much to my sadness. What did I get? A couple of ribbed-glass aluminum-lidded Hoosier cupboard jars (my most expensive purchase), a couple of gigantic gallon glass jars (for some kind of Halloween display in booth at Seaside Sisters) and my favorite item of the day, a complete stack of four nesting Pyrex Butterprint batter bowls–plus an additional fifth bowl. Also a cute pelican planter and a way cool vintage Black Flag pump-style bug sprayer. The bug sprayer will look great in my Halloween display at the shop. And a little green wood-handled sugar scoop.
One of the bedrooms had been designated the crafts graveyard. Sewing supplies, knitting supplies, plastic funeral arrangements, a nifty sewing machine and cabinet full of thread and accessories. A sign on the door said every object was $1. Seriously? I found a plastic box full of two different kinds of completed quilt squares. There were 31 completed Vogue-Art cross-stitch squares and 37 of the sunflower appliqued squares. I may just have to try and list these on Etsy or eBay. Score! A big bag full of knitting needles, crochet hooks and yarn. Double score. Do I knit or crochet? Well, no, but I have friends who do, and for a buck a bag, I couldn’t not get them. I also picked up a plaid wool stadium blanket which will be a great addition to the red/green/plaid/fall/camping theme I’mm planning for my booth.
Then we got to the basement. The basement at a Meemaw sale can be very scary. I myself have spotted rat skeletons and unknown vermin poop, not to mention toxic levels of mold, mildew and rot many times in basements.At one Meemaw sale earlier this summer we noticed they had at least a dozen aquariums lined up on wooden benches. With gravel in the aquariums. It gave me a bad feeling and I could not have gotten out of there fast enough. Upstairs, I asked Vicki, the dealer running the show—if the aquariums had been for snakes. “Um, maybe?” Yeah, I was mouth-breathing the whole time! This basement wasn’t so bad. Jinxie pointed out a gigantic galvanized tub with chippy red paint. We got the price–which was less than a Happy Meal, and of course I had to get it.
After we paid and went on to another sale–at a ritzy condo in Buckhead where you had to be escorted in and out of the locked building–I realized I’d left my horse trough behind. Back we went, and fortunately, it was still there. All in all, a fabulous fall day of junking. Made better when I did a little research and found that the Pyrex nesting bowls book for between $50-$75. Yay, me!
And before you ask–TFB (the friggin’ book) isn’t done. Yet. But it will be, this week.
Next summer’s book is due. Like, now. But life was closing in on me. So I ran away. This time I went to the mountains of North Carolina, to my friend Richard and Beth’s house. I left home on Sunday. Remember the cruise of the Good Ship Minnow? A three-hour tour? Mapquest said my trip would take five hours, fifty minutes. Hah! They forgot to figure in junkin’ time. I’d been wanting to check out a junk honey hole called , The Depot at Gibson Mill in Concord NC. No matter that it would take me 45 miles out of my route. The depot was fabulous! An old Cannon textile mill given over completely to junk/antiques! I gave myself an hour to shop and only hit a small portion of the building. Still, I managed to drop some bucks–all in the name of my booth at Seaside Sisters. My favorite find was this lovely quilt made of old feed sacks, with a backing of mattress ticking.
Feedsack quilt with backing of mattress ticking from the Depot. Love!
No fancy quilting, it’s a utility quilt made with a fine eye for color and composition. I posted pix on Facebook and a couple of alert readers told me it’s the string pattern. As I pulled away from the depot, I wanted to pull an Arnold Swarzenegger and whisper, “I’ll be back.” Instead, I steered toward my true destination. After a quick grocery stop, I easily found the mountain house. Which is delightful. Tucked away outside a tiny town in the northwest corner of the state, it’s a crazy combination of masculine/mountain with French country. The scenery near the house is lovely. A closed-down country store, an alluring barn/garage, the most adorable carpenter gothic house, nestled into the valley with the green hazy mountains looming behind.
If these walls could talk...carpenter gothic house in NC mtns.
Makes me wish I were a real photographer. Beth is my sister from another mother. We met just as I was moving back to Atlanta after a three-year stay in Raleigh. She loves antiques–of course, she loves the very fine, expensive, French and English real, true antiques, which she sells through her business, Knick-Knack Paddywack. I love that stuff too, I just can’t really afford it. She loves to travel–I love to travel. She loves going to the theatre, I love the theatre. She has an master’s in English lit, I do not, but I’ve been known to write. And most importantly, she drinks Diet Coke for breakfast. She completes me. We’ve done junking trips to Europe and a couple to Brimfield, and I expect we’ll try to fit another trip in sometime soon. After I finish this next friggin’ book. In the meantime, I’ve been puzzling out the big problems of TFB. But today, I needed a break. I told myself I was going to town for groceries. But really, I needed to junk. I found an antique mall with a trio of good ol’ boys settin’ around talking about cars, and cruised into the windy maze of booths.
Closest thing to Wally's Gas Station. Gomer sez' fill 'er up!
The clock was ticking–again, I’d only given myself an hour. As always, I had to wade through a lot of true junk–meaning anything I don’t like or collect or buy or sell. Repro tin gas station signs. Precious Moment figurines. Coins. Weapons. Nascar shite. (It’s North Carolina) ’80s crap-ola. Finally, I found a booth where they were singing my song. A sweet chippy white child’s bentwood chair.
Still life with child's chair, 'mater and rose
A toy stove.
Too hot to cook. Even on this retro toy stove.
An old wood grocery crate turned into a toolbox. I went to pay and found a huge painted white rotary fan at the cash register. Ka-ching! After I got back to the house, I went back to work. I’d had a late lunch, so I only stopped to eat at dusk. And to take pix of my finds for you. Even in the mountains, it’s hot. This house doesn’t have air conditioning, and in the mornings and evenings, it’s cool enough that it doesn’t need it. But in late afternoon, it gets a little toasty. I plugged in my new fan, and it works like a dream.
Too darn hot. Vintage rotary fan to the rescue.
I considered cooking, but it was too hot. Instead, I sliced up an heirloom tomato I bought in town, drizzled it with a little olive oil, sea salt and balsamic vinegar, and washed it down with my favorite wine of the summer, a yummy rose Mr. MKA buys for me. It’s called Angel’s Whisper. Sounds like a book title, yes?
Maybe you’ve noticed I haven’t blogged in, oh, I dunno, SEVEN WEEKS? Or maybe you thought I was dead, or perhaps I’d been unjustly incarcerated. None of these is the case. In fact I’ve had a severe case of the busies.
So let’s play catch-up, and hit the high-lights, shall we? Since I last blogged in early June my book SUMMER RENTAL came out. We had a fabulous launch party at Feast Restaurant in Decatur, where we celebrated with old and new friends and sold the most books ever in one night.
Launch night with the FoxTale Bookshop Babes
For me, anyway. (Thanks FoxTales Bookshop of Woodstock!) And then I hauled that overpacked suitcase of mine to a buttload of bookstores in a buttload of states. At Quail Ridge Books in Raleigh, NC., I caught up with the Women of Weymouth, aka my writer’s group, for our celebratory pre-signing dinner. Big shout-outs to the WOWs; Alex Sokoloff, Bren Witchger, Diane Chamberlain, Margaret Maron, Katy Munger and Sarah Shaber, who helped, held my hand, and listened to me whine while I was writing SR.
Fairhope, Alabama and Page and Palette Books was wonderful as always, especially since an alert fan at the signing told me about an estate sale which I was able to hit on the way back to my hotel afterwards.
My Mobile estate sale find--antique quilt top
Selling buttloads of books + junk = happy author.
The next day, in Houston, I had a great signing at Blue Willow Books and got to have dinner afterwards with my cousin Art and his family, which was a great treat. I hope Art’s kids (he has about a dozen) never have to find out that he was the wheel-man on our illicit teenage liquor-buying capers. And I hope my kids (and grandkids!) never find out my part in said capers.
In Chicago, I had a morning off and took the Chicago Architectural Foundation’s boat tour, something I’ve wanted to do ever since watching Julia Roberts do the same thing in My Best Friend’s Wedding. Can’t hear the song The Way You Look Tonight without thinking of that movie, one of my favorite chick flicks ever. And the real boat tour, by the way, was wonderful. After my signing that night, I was dining at a swanky Italian restaurant (Thanks, St. Martin’s Press!) when I spotted an elegant gentleman winding his way through the dining room. At a table nearby I spotted a trio of earpiece-wearing security-types. My waiter confirmed my hunch, it was indeed, Chicago’s new Mayor, Rahm Emanuel. Who, btw, is one fine-lookin’ dude.
One of the biggest moments of the past seven weeks happened, serendipitously at my signing at Island Books, in the Outer Banks, where Summer Rental is set. I was chatting with fans when my cellphone rang and I saw that the caller was my editor, the amazing Jennifer Enderlin. Here’s how the call went. Jen: “Are you sitting down?” Me: “Yeeesss. What’s wrong?” Jen: Summer Rental is NUMBER FIVE ON THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER LIST!” Me: SQUEEEEEEEE!” Seriously, I think everybody in the place thought I’d seen a mouse cuz I screamed like a banshee. Huge, wonderful, surprising thrill. My first time to make the list that high.
Cryin' and Signin' at Island Books
Then I called Mr. MKA and cried like a baby. And when I got back to my hotel that night, there was a bucket of iced-down champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries waiting for me. (Thanks, St. Jenderlin!)
The party continued the next night in Fairhaven, N.J., on the Jersey Shore, where the world’s best agent, Stuart Krichevsky, showed up for my signing with a huge cooler-full of ice cream, an armload of gorgeous roses, and a magnum of equally-gorgeous champagne, the last a gift from Mr. MKA. (Thanks, Honey! I think I could get used to this.) Also on hand for our gala was mega marketing maven Meg Walker, who single-handedly managed to corral nearly a hundred ladies to attend the booksigning that night. Even better—the next day Stuart, Meg and I breakfasted on that Jersey delicacy Pork Roll.
Then I motored down to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, for a fun signing at Browseabout Books. Love that store.
After a round of signings in Atlanta, I flew off to the American Library Association conference in New Orleans. Loved seeing all the librarians and my St. Martin’s and HarperCollins peeps there, but more importantly, I got to have dinner with my brother and sister-in-law at their bar, Parasol’s, a local landmark in the Irish Channel. Experienced the wonders of their roast beef po-boy. Wowsers! You gotta go. The next morning I had another treat—hanging out with New York Times bestselling, Edgar Award winning, self-admitted showtune singer and shoe slut Laura Lippman. Good times.
The last week of June was RWA time—that is, Romance Writer’s of America conference, in New York. Picture 2,500 romance writers milling around the Marriott Marquis slap-dab in the middle of Times Square. So much fun it shoulda been illegal.
Foolin' around with Fabio at RWA
I had drinks with my editor and publisher, and after dropping heavy hints that I was dying to see the only Broadway show whose ticket was literally impossible, the impossible happened. Phone calls were made, texts were exchanged, and that Wednesday night I went to see Tony-award winning The Book of Mormon. Hilarious, totally original, wonderful. Also Wednesday, I got to have coffee with NYT bestselling author Susan Elizabeth Phillips, who so kindly provided a blurb for Summer Rental. Thursday night was party night, and my date for the night was the aforementioned Meg the Marketer, who’d proven her partying style at last year’s RWA, where she managed to party like a pro at three functions in one night—and on crutches with a cast. This year we toned it down a little—even though I did buy myself a pretty fabulous pair of vaguely hookerish gold high-heeled sandals. We got to chat with lots of my publishing peeps—and see the amazing sunset view at the St. Martin’s Press party held in their landmark Flatiron Building.
Sunset in the point of the Flatiron building with Meg Walker at the St. Martin's party
After that we tagged along with writer buddy Kayla Perrin to the Waldorf-Astoria where Harlequin was holding their famous annual Black and White Ball. Which we crashed. I will never forget the sensation of dancing in a sea of black and white-clad romance writing wenches—to Lady GaGa’s Bad Romance.
Crashing the Black and White Ball in style
When we finally hobbled out of the Harlequin soiree we decided we were hungry, so we went back to the hotel, changed out of our party finery, then walked up to Fifth Avenue, where Meg introduced me to the concept of The Happy Waitress, which is a post-midnight diner dinner of grilled cheese with bacon & tomato. Delish.
When I finally arrived home, it was time for the most eagerly-awaited event of the year: the arrival of our second grandchild, John Griffin Abel, who was born here in Atlanta on July 8. Now that was truly a highlight. Mr. Mary Kay and I were out in the waiting room when he was born, and got to hold him shortly afterwards.
Love at First Sight!
Griff is the most adorable baby since…well, since his big sister Molly was born almost exactly two years earlier. He is long and skinny, with a quizzical expression in his deep blue eyes, and he sleeps and eats like a champ. Molly is adjusting nicely to sisterhood.
Last week, we managed to tear ourselves away from the new kid on the block with a short trip down to Tybee Island and Savannah. Susan and the girls at Seaside Sisters threw me a big ol’ Sign n’ Sip Party and Junk-a-Thon, where we totally sold out of Summer Rental. On Friday night, we drove down to St. Simon’s Island, where we managed to fit in dinners with two sets of old friends in between signings at The Cloister and G.J. Ford Bookshop.
It’s been a whirlwind summer, for sure. Thanks to you wonderful readers, and all the fabulous booksellers who hosted me for signings, and the amazing folks at Team MKA, Summer Rental has managed to stay on the NYT bestseller list for six weeks now—a first for me. I managed to spend some time with family and old friends while out on the road, fit in a little junking, and to meet new and old fans. Most importantly, we got to welcome a healthy, precious lil’ guy to our family. I am so blessed!
Which brings me right back home again, where I shall stay, at least for a week, before running away somewhere to dig in and get back to work at my real job, which is working on TFB. (The Friggin’ Book.) It is due right this very minute. Did I tell you the title? No? How ‘bout HIDEAWAY LAKE?
All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go, standing here, outside your door…Shades of Peter, Paul and Mary! I’m off for the big Summer Rental book tour any minute now. Just one problem, severe over-package, and I’m not talking about the Anthony Weiner situation. Over the weekend, daughter Katie, my personal shopper, in-house fashion expert and event coordinator, came over and selected my tour wardrobe. But only after rejecting most of my beloved clothing staples. Those faded denim capris? “Mom jeans,” she said with a sneer. The black linen top I love? “Not summery.” The Anthropologie necklace I bought to wear with my new silk top? “Cute but no match.”
Sigh. And she wrested my favorite faded black yoga pants away from me and took them to her house–just in case I got any ideas about fishing them out of the trash! I tell you, the kid is relentless. She put accessories with outfits, and even photographed them with my cell phone just in case I have any accessorization dilemmas.
This easy-peasy recipe was inspired by one from Paula Deen. If you’re taking these to a party, fix them ahead of time on disposable foil baking sheets and pop in the oven when you get to the party. Warning: you will never be able to fix enough of these to satisfy your guests!
Ingredients:
½ cup finely shredded parmesan, romano or mozzarella cheese.
1 package mini phyllo shells—I find Athena brand in freezer case by frozen fruits or biscuits
Peel and dice tomatoes, sprinkle with seasoning mixture and let juices and seeds drain in colander. Mix onion and basil with tomatoes and spoon into mini phyllo shells. “Frost” top of tomato-filled cups with mayo piped from a plastic bag with the corner snipped out. Sprinkle with cheese, add bacon bits, bake in 350 degree oven for 10-12 minutes or ‘til tops are lightly browned. Serve warm.
