The Kudzu Telegraph

Summer Rental Book Tour...Starting Now

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 12:59:00 +0000

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.

Summer packing poses a problem for me. The rest of the year when I travel, I just throw in the afore-mentioned yoga pants, some other black pants and a couple sweaters. Also black airport shoes. Gotta have my easy-off airport shoes. I may look like Viola Swamp, but I'm comfy.
But in the summertime, I have to pack lighter colors. Linen. You know how linen wrinkles. And white or khaki pants--which are stain magnets for me. And cute shoes.
And jewelry. And make-up. Don't want to scare my readers, right?

And then there's the matter of all those cords and chargers for my electronic gizmoes.
But I think I'm finally there. And here's the thing. I'm excited. Truly. It's been two years since The Fixer-Upper came out, which is way too long. My pulse is racing, and not just from the two Diet Cokes I had for breakfast. I love travelling (especially on my publisher's dime), love seeing the country, love junking along the way, (UPS is my friend) and most of all, I love meeting readers and booksellers.
So if you live in Mt. Pleasant, SC, Raleigh, NC, Fairhope, Alabama, Houston, Chicago, Cape Cod, The Jersey Shore, The Outer Banks, or Atlanta, I'd love it if you'd drop by one of my book-signings to say hi. Just don't tell Katie if you see me wearing that black linen top with the wrong necklace.

Getting Set for Summer Rental

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Mon, 09 May 2011 22:56:00 +0000

Things are ramping up around the MKA ranch these days. My latest book, SUMMER RENTAL, comes out June 7. Yay! It's been a two-year stretch between novels (THE FIXER-UPPER came out in 2009) and that's a loooong time in the life of a person who writes commercial fiction. We are busily planning a fun launch party to be held at our favorite local restaurant, Feast, in Decatur, GA. on June 6, as a benefit for the Girl Scouts of Greater Atlanta. You can buy tickets here. Also, we've got what I think is an especially sweet deal for all you moms (and others) who got ereaders (like a Nook, Kindle, Sony or iPad) for Mother's Day. How's this? For the four weeks leading up to publication of SUMMER RENTAL, you'll be able to download one of my favorite earlier novels, HISSY FIT, for only $1.99! (It's usually priced at $9.99)That's less than a Big Gulp from the Toot n' Tote, right? Let's see, what else? Oh yes, plans are moving along for the Summer Rental book tour, which kicks off here in Atlanta on June 7, taking me to places like Mt. Pleasant, S.C., Raleigh, Fairhope, AL, Houston,Chicago, Cape Cod, the Outer Banks of North Carolina--where the book is set, the Jersey Shore (do you think Snooki reads?)Rehoboth Beach, DE, New Orleans, and finally, New York and the Romance Writers of America national conference. When I come home from the road, I'll do a round of signings in Atlanta and Savannah. In between, I have to finish writing the next friggin' book and turn it in so that it can be published next summer.Doesn't sound like I'll have much time to spend at our own Summer Rental on Tybee Island, does it?
And with all those book signings, I'll probably have limited time for junking, which means I'm doing a good bit of pre-emptive junking these days. Just this past weekend, Mr. Mary Kay and I joined 40 neighbors on a Mother's Day weekend golf outing to the North Georgia mountains. He golfed, I junked. That's how we roll. Junk posse member Jinxie and I toured a flea market in Dillard, where, among all the tube socks, VHR tapes, Avon products--and scattered outbreaks of vintage, I spotted somebody selling actual headstones.

To be fair, that part of Georgia is famous for its granite quarries. But still, headstones at a flea market? I did manage to score a couple of cool old table-top pinball games--one of which is missing glass and is non-functioning, but nonetheless way cool. And Jinx found an old-timey water jug that reminded her of the one her grandmother kept in the fridge. My grandmother had one too! I guess it was a '60s thing, but no water anywhere tasted colder or sweeter.
Leaving Dillard, we drove down to the charming town of Clayton, where we had lunch at the adorably old-timey Clayton Cafe before strolling through some antique shops.
In one shop, I bought a pair of vintage children's water-skis, which would look awesome at a beach house, although probably not ours, since we are now officially out of wall-space at The Breeze Inn.

They are destined for my booth at Seaside Sisters. And then, in the never-say-die spirit of the weekend (our husbands played 27 holes both days)we wandered down to The Old Mill Antiques Market in Clarkesville. Here is where I made my final--(and favorite) purchase of the weekend, a vintage Nestea iced tea dispenser.

Sadly, it has a large crack in it. But the color is my favorite shade of nearly Jadeite green, and it reminds me of my late mother, who used to drink gallons of Nestea (instant)iced tea. I think Mr. Mary Kay can probably put some epoxy to keep my dispenser together, and even if it won't technically hold water, the memories it holds will be priceless.

Easter Tybee Style

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 20:59:00 +0000

By the time I got everybody in the family to agree we should spend Easter on Tybee this year it was too late to book The Breeze Inn! Undaunted, I just emailed my peeps at Mermaid Cottages and booked a house I knew would be just right for our gang-Southern Cross Cottage. As an official house voyeur, I'd toured Southern Cross last year when Diane at Mermaid began managing it. I think my family would agree it was a great decision.

Southern Cross is a classic 1930s-era Tybee raised cottage, and was completely restored a few years ago by the owners, who kept the distinctive knotty pine walls and floors, but updated everything--including baths and a kitchen. As great as the interiors were, our favorite feature of the house were the porches--the perfect people-watching perch to look out over a towering live oak--or to take an after-dinner nap.

Last year, we worked like crazy getting our house ready for the Tybee Tour of Homes. This year, Diane tells me, Southern Cross will be one of the featured homes on the tour, which takes place Saturday, June 4. The website still features our house from last year's tour--but I promise you--we are NOT on the house tour this year. My new book,SUMMER RENTAL publishes June 7, plus next summer's book is due to my editor in July. Yikes!

This year we had a crowd for Easter, including Katie and Mark, 21-month-old Molly, Andy, aka Boomerang Boy and his friend Laura, and our niece Sarah and her friend John. Since the house has four bedrooms, I knew it would easily accomodate all of us. We loved the fact that it has wrap-around porches on the second floor, and an outdoor spa, firepit and grill area, not to mention the fact that the younger kids could hang out on the first floor--playing cards and watching movies until late while some of us turned in earlier. We checked in Friday and started the weekend with Mr. Mary Kay's famous crabcakes for dinner. After dinner, the family continued their favorite beach tradition of strolling over to Seaside Sweets on nearby Tybrisa, for our friend Jimmy's yummy gelato. On Saturday, Mr. MKA and BB went fishing, while everybody else but me hit the beach. What was I busy doing? Oh, just a little fluffing over at The Breeze Inn, which only had a 24-hour vacancy over the long holiday weekend. I found a fabulous set of 1920s reed furniture at an Atlanta estate sale a couple months ago, and it was truly a fixer upper. The set had been left out in the weather, and at least four different coats of paint were flaking off it like a bad case of dandruff.

It took a couple weeks of diligent wire-brush scraping, plus a power wash to rid the settee and two armchairs of all that flakey old paint. Then Mr. MKA went to work, re-wrapping and nailing some of the rattan strapping. Andy then gave it a couple coats of glossy white paint. And in the meantime, I had some spiffy new lime green, pink and white striped covers made for the cushions.

On Saturday, we installed the new furniture on the Breeze Inn porch, then trucked the old wicker, still serviceable, over to Seaside Sisters--where the whole set sold in less than two hours! Last night we had ribs on the grill here at
Southern Cross, and then the gang--including Molly, hit the spa. We were all up early today for a true Easter miracle--we got all eight of us dressed and sitting in church at St. Michael's here on Tybee with minutes to spare. Of course, Molly only made it seven minutes before her daddy took her on home for the beauty sleep she insists upon. But she looked adorable in her easter finery for those seven minutes. Because the kids needed to head back to Atlanta early, we had Easter lunch instead of dinner--balsamic cherry glazed lamb chops, herbed new potatoes, poached asparagus, fruit salad, dinner rolls and Tacky Jacky's delish pineapple casserole. Of course, no Southern Sunday dinner is complete without devilled eggs, and we discovered that Molly adores them.
Now that the kids have taken off, Mr. Mary Kay and I are enjoying a lazy afternoon, and yes, a nap. I'm thinking a dip in the spa will be just the thing for our last evening at Southern Cross.

Junk Overdose

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Sat, 09 Apr 2011 20:56:00 +0000

I've been a very bad blogger, I know. But there are reasons. I was writing. I was junking. I was baby-sitting Molly. I took a trip. But I'm back now, and I've missed you and hope you missed me. To make it up to you, I'll tell you about my very junky weekend.

Extended weekend, really. We went out to Scott's Antique Market Thursday, roamed around and had a jolly old time. I picked up a wicker-wrapped bottle for my booth at Seaside Sisters on Tybee--or maybe for me. Also a trio of vintage German seashell prints. And some sea fans--again for me. I am changing out my living room for a spring/summer beachy feel.

On Friday, after writing a little, off I went again, this time with junk posse member Jinxie, for a couple of estate sales. The first one was in Buckhead, and run by one of our favorite dealers, Vicki. I scored a great shabby chic aqua painted potting table--which will go to Seaside Sisters. Also a funky little upholstered loveseat, for $20, which will probably stay here until I figure out where she is headed. And I scored a pink Pyrex casserole dish, sans lid, but it'll be perfect for the booth. At the next sale, run by another favorite dealer, Myrtice, I found a sweet pinwheel quilt in decent condition, and a funky vintage turquoise bowling shirt--it has "Gloria" embroidered over the breast pocket. I'd keep it for myself, except Gloria was apparently a six four, the little bee-yatch.

And then, I met two more friends and we journeyed back down to Scott's. Again. I know, it was a junk overdose. We had a splendid time catching up, and I snagged some more excellent treasures for the booth, including a vintage flamingo-painted mirror with mirrored frame--those always sell in a snap, and a pair of funky porcelain parrots, which would make adorable lamps. And a pair of beachy pastel lime green and pink needlepoint pillows. Am a sucker for needlepoint.

That should be enough junk for any normal being--but I never claimed to be normal. Back out again I went this morning, with Katie, for a neighborhood-wide sale a couple miles away. Small wicker table, cute wooden Paris bistro set--the chairs are rickety, but I think Mr. MKA can fix. And then--I spotted a Sanford & Son look-alike truck cruising slowly down the street--its bed piled high with junk scavenged from the streetwide clean-up campaign. I flagged down the elderly driver and asked if he'd like to sell the two AWESOME red, chippy vintage wrought iron armchairs perched perilously on the top of his towering stack. "Sure," he said. "I was just taking them to the scrapyard." For $10 they were mine--and now they belong to posse member Susie, who was looking for the very thing.

Ah, spring. Doncha just love it?

P.S. As I was starting to leave home to head off to North Carolina for my writer's retreat, Katie pulled up and mentioned that she'd spied a yard sale just down the block. I went, I saw, I found a great antique wicker desk and a pair of cute boudoir lamps. And then, on the way to Southern Pines, I stopped in at Old Tyme Market antiques outside Charlotte. And I snagged a great beachy aqua quilt and a vintage tin litho sandpail. See? It was just that kind of weekend.

Facelift/Makeover Party

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Sat, 19 Mar 2011 22:26:00 +0000

We had a lil' shindig at Seaside Sisters on Tybee Island today. Three years ago, Seaside Susan opened the shop in just one storefront of the Sundance Shopping Center on Highway 80. Over the next few years, the business grew, and so did her ambition to make it the best little shop on the island. Today was the big reveal. She pulled out all the stops--hired a makeup artist to give makeovers--I got one! Magazine stylist Liz Demos--whose work has been published in many national magazines--like Southern Living and Better Homes and Gardens, gave a demonstration of how to make gorgeous table settings with what you have on hand, and yours truly had a "junk from my trunk" show. I also read a couple selections from SUMMER RENTAL. As we say here in the South, a good time was had by all. A fan from Canada even dropped by with her beautiful black and chocolate labs--they are search and rescue dogs who do border patrol and anti-terrorist work on our border. You just never know who's gonna turn up on Tybee. If you missed the party today--don't worry! This is Tybee, the party just keeps goin' and goin'...

We did it! Upholstery project

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 15:43:00 +0000

Sometimes, when I speak to a book club, they're kind enough to give me a little gift--usually it's a nice aromatherapy candle, note cards, chocolate (always a winner)like that. But when I spoke to my friend Martha's book club in Atlanta a couple weeks ago, she gave me the best book club bribe/gift ever. An antique upholstered bench. Martha assured me that if I didn't take the bench, which was a family piece, she was going to have it hauled off to Goodwill. Couldn't let that happen now, could I? If you look past the dirty, rotting upholstery fabric and the old, alligatored black varnish on the wood frame, she's an adorable little bench, with her sexy curved legs and sweet scalloped apron. And a useful size, to boot.
The bench rode around in the back of my car until this past weekend. Finally, Saturday, I decided to tackle that sucker. I found a nice Robert Allen cream twill fabric on sale at Hancock's and grabbed a yard-and-a-half of it--which was probably double what I needed, and also purchased some (on sale) gimp braid as trimming. I deconstructed the upholstery, removing the filthy old fabric on top, the equally filthy padding (one layer of which consisted of straw!) and the also rotting scrim on the underside of the top. I set the bench up outside and using Formby's Refinisher and three different grades of steel wool, I stripped off the old blackened varnish. In its place, I rubbed in a coat of Briwax in a finish color called Tudor. And then came the hard part.
Upholstery. Ugh! I've stapled my share of dining room seat cushions in the past, but the bench, with its padded top, was a much bigger challenge than it seemed like it should be.

I finally had to call in the heavy guns--i.e. Mr. Mary Kay. We managed to replace the scrim with some muslin I had in my fabric stash, and then we covered the old padding with more of the same muslin, stapling everything in place with the electric staple gun. On to the upholstered top. We measured. I cut. We measured, I trimmed.We stapled, and then unstapled. The corners of the bench nearly undid us. Turns out we probably should have put some additional batting in there. Finally, I made the decision it was "good enough for government work." As a final touch, I hot-glued a ribbon of gimp braid to cover up the staples.

The finished product isn't exactly professional quality. I may still attempt to make a fitted slipcover to protect that snowy linen top. Here she is auditioning for a spot in the sun-room, where I like to sit and write on sunny days--like today.

But in the meantime, it's done! And from now on, I'll be expecting antique furniture hand-outs at all my book club appearances.

Catch and Release

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 18:04:00 +0000

I never set out to become a vendor of vintage and antique finds. As newlyweds, my husband and I lived in Savannah, and our tiny little attic apartment was sparsely furnished with cast-off pieces my mother, a real estate agent, had squirrelled away from houses she'd sold. We were living on my pitiful salary as a newspaper reporter and banking Mr. Mary Kay's, because we knew he would be going back to school for an engineering degree. So I started junking in Savannah, going to estate sales and junk shops on Saturday mornings, scooping up little treasures that appealed.I made friends with dealers I met along the way, and they gave me hints about antiques and vintage stuff, and I got hooked. In a bad way. When we moved to Atlanta I continued my junking habits. At one point, when Katie was a baby, I attended an auction in our neighborhood on a weekly basis, taking her along in her stroller while I indulged in what was becoming a passion. Dealers befriended me, and I learned a little more. The dealers running estate sales came to know me, and eventually, one of them asked me if I was a dealer. "Not a dealer, just a user," I said. Raising an eyebrow, she replied sadly, "yeah, that's how we all get started." It only took me about 30 years to finally admit my addiction, and take a booth to sell my vintage wares at Seaside Sisters on Tybee Island. Three years into it, I still love "piddling around" with old stuff. People always ask me why I don't rent a space in an antique mall in Atlanta, where, after all, we live full-time. And I tell 'em--because if I did that, I'd never write another book. I'd just piddle away all my time playing with junk. This way, I junk in "moderation"--hah! Try telling that to Mr. Mary Kay. We go down to The Breeze Inn around once a month--except during the summer, when the house stays rented, and that's when I re-stock my booth at Seaside Sisters. One of the best things about junking is when you can finally manage to practice what I've come to call "catch and release." I really never buy anything I don't love, and I very rarely buy anything incredibly rare or pricey. So I've gotten a little promiscuous with my junking. I'll buy something, take it home, live with it a few weeks or months or years even, and then, eventually, when the infatuation wears off, I'll rotate it down to my booth and hope that somebody else will fall in love too. Because then, I'll have money to spend on my next great love affair.
Yesterday was a fine day to indulge my love of vintage, strolling around Scott's Antique Market. A beautiful sunny day, and the place was packed to the rafters. I strolled and munched--tiny little cinnamon donuts! I ran into old friends and laughed and chatted with dealers. And I bought a few things. Scouting around the outdoor vendors at the South building, I ran into a man who'd bought out an estate in Columbus, Georgia.
Little League jersey

The deceased had been a Little League coach for many, many years, and the dealer had a great pile of vintage '50s kid's baseball shirts and pants. Not the yucky polyester baseball jerseys Boomerange Boy wore during his 18 years of baseball, but the good stuff, wonderful, heavy cotton flannel uniforms, with real machine embroidery for the team sponsors, and real ground-in Georgia red clay. I had to bring a couple of those home with me!
Popcorn megaphone

The coach must have run the concession stand at his ballpark, because he'd left behind a huge stash of old waxed cardboard soft drink cups, and popcorn containers that can become a megaphone when the popcorn's gone. And he was a Shriner too, because there was also a stack of vintage circus posters.
Circus poster

I chatted with the dealer and enjoyed the sunshine, and moseyed around inside, until I found a stack of vintage Jadeite plates. I was lovin' Jadeite before Martha Stewart discovered it and jacked up prices, so I was thrilled to find a stack of 8 Lotus Blossom salad plates at a great price.

Jadeite Lotus Blossom plate
Hmm. Do I let 'em stay with me for a while--or let some lucky Jadeite lover take them home? The jury's still out on that one. But there's no arguement about the last item I bought. I've been looking for months now for a vintage tin litho sign to nail up on our outdoor shower stall at The Breeze Inn. I scoured the midwest during the great October junk jaunt I wrote about here, but to no avail. I even made a trip to a metal salvage yard run by a friend of a friend in Savannah--hoping I might stumble across what would be my fantasy find--an old Capt. John Derst bread sign. No luck. Finally, just as I was leaving the parking lot at Scott's yesterday, I spied a dealer who had lots of great old tin signs and Tom's Snacks jars and racks. The Royal Crown sign was just the ticket. Reminds me of the old movie promotion in my hometown of St. Pete. On Saturday mornings, you could get into the Florida theatre for a showing of kiddie movies--Old Yeller! Big Red! The Parent Trap! for six Royal Crown Cola bottle caps. Of course, since there were five of us, that meant we had to come up with 30 bottle caps. Usually, we fished them out of the coke machine at my dad's best friend's gas station. Good times! Although all the other treasures I scored yesterday will make their way to the booth, I'm not letting that Royal Crown sign get away. Not anytime soon.

A Picnic at The Beach

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 17:50:00 +0000

It's probably not sporting of me to whine about the cold rainy weather we're having here in Atlanta--not when so many of you are shivering under a blanket of snow and ice--even you Texans! Like a lot of you, I'm already dreaming of summer, and the beach, and picnics. I managed to sneak away to an estate sale this morning, and I guess summer must have been on my mind when I spotted this 'lil darlin' hidden under the dollar table. She's a '60s vintage souvenir picnic basket from Acapulco.
Check out the great woven straw pineapples and coconuts--at least that's what I think they are! I snatched her up quick, thinking she'd be perfect for picnics, or even filled with beach towels and books, at Tybee.
In the kitchen, I spied this orange Ransburg pottery bowl atop the fridge. Wouldn't it look amazing on a white, primitive picnic-style coffee table, filled with green mangoes, bananas and pineapples? Or maybe, taken on that picnic I'm dreaming about, filled up with my grandmother's fab potato salad? Or a delicious marinated green bean salad?

When I got my treasures home, I found a surprise tucked inside the basket--all the makings for that very picnic--a pack of unopened compartment-style paper plates, a smaller oak-splint basket, even a little white duck tablecloth and a seafoam green thermos. From shaking the thermos, I gather the glass inside is broken, but no matter that, wouldn't it be fun to fill something like this up with icy gazpacho? And to wrap some of my mama's fried chicken in a checked napkin in the splint basket? Mmm. Come on summer!

Curled Up With A Good Book

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 18:48:00 +0000

Ah, winter. No better time to find yourself a snug place to hideaway and read. I'm one of those people who always have at least one book going at any time, and now, with the Kindle Mr. Mary Kay gave me for Christmas, the possibilities for new books seem endless. So, what have I been reading these past few months? Just finished the ARE (advanced reader's edition) for my friend Patti Callahan Henry's new book, Coming Up for Air. I think it's her first set outside of the South Carolina Low Country, with a theme of lost love and family secrets, and I know her readers are going to love it. Not due out til September, but you can pre-order here. I do love a big, juicy biography, and this fall was fascinated by Jane Levy's ambitious and revealing The Last Boy: Mickey Mantle and the End of America's Childhood. Susan Elizabeth Phillips is always on my auto-buy list, so I bought Call Me Irresistible the day it was released last week,and gobbled it right up. Last summer when I was staying in Nag's Head, writing Summer Rental , I discovered the work of Elinor Lipman. Can I just tell you that she is my new book crush? I loved all her books, including And Then She Found Me, (which was made into a meh movie with Helen Hunt and Bette Midler), but if I could only recommend one it would be, hands down, The Family Man. Funny, droll, heart-warming, this is a book about acceptance and forgiveness and late-blooming love. How I wish I had written this book! Another day while I was writing away at the Nag's Head library, I discovered the Regency Romances of Eloisa James. I hadn't read a Regency since my teen years, but what a delight it was to find Eloisa--who is, in real life, a Harvard and Yale educated Shakespearean scholar who teaches creative writing at Fordham. Don't be shy about those "clinch" covers, either. After all, if the guys can buy all those thrillers with submarines, stealth bombers, guns and knives, why can't a girl buy a book with a bare-chested hunk on the cover? Just sayin'...I flew through her Desperate Duchesses series, and then last week, downloaded her eNovella, Storming The Castle. Great fun. I got to meet Eloisa at a romance convention last summer, and through her was introduced to the steamy Regency Romances of Lisa Kleypas, which I actually listened to on audio. Have mercy! What else have I been reading? Oh, you know. A little Michael Connelly, The Reversal--awesome, as always. Some old Jennifer Crusie re-issues,if you've never read Crazy For You, or Tell Me Lies, boy, are you missing out. I received Nora Ephron's, I Remember Nothing for our book club Christmas swap, and I love Nora, so that's next on my TBR stack. And then there's a new novel getting a lot of buzz, The Weird Sisters, that I'd like to read. And my pal Laura Lippman has a new Tess Monaghan mystery novella called The Girl in the Green Raincoat. By the time I finish those, that should bring us to March, when oh happy day, we will have both the movie of Connelly's Lincoln Lawyer, and his next Mickey Haller mystery. Oh yeah, and I'm supposed to be writing a new book of my own. Details.

Stop the Car!

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Sat, 08 Jan 2011 23:43:00 +0000

I brake for dead people's stuff
Did you miss me? Hard to believe I went nearly three weeks without posting here. I missed blogging and connecting with readers, but the holiday season was so wild, this seems like my first chance to catch up. I'm down at Tybee, holed up at The Breeze Inn, working on the next book, or as writers say, WIP (that's work in progress). The secret code name is Project Ex. But since I exceeded my ten page writing goal Friday, I got to do a little junking on Saturday. Savannah was where I cut my estate sale junking teeth, and when I saw the Craigslist ad for an estate sale for a 90-year-old prominent Savannahian, in Ardsley Park--primo junking territory, no way was I going to miss out. I set my alarm for 6 a.m., and hit the ground running, Diet Coke in one hand, giant tote bag in the other. By 6:45 I was rolling through the drive-thru at Krispy-Kreme, and by 7 a.m. I was pulling up to the stately old home where the sale was being held. Eight or nine stalwart dealers were already lined up outside, huddled in the pre-dawn chill, sipping coffee and discussing their latest scores. One guy even brought his own portable propane heater to ward off the cold! Now that's a first. What next? Porta-potties? Wouldn't that be awesome?

The early morning line-up--and their propane heater
The dealer gang included my friend Liz Demos, who used to own my favorite Savannah shop, At Home Vintage General. These days, Liz sells through a booth at a new antique mall called Steal Magnolias, in midtown Savannah, but mostly she stays busy as a much-in-demand wedding planner, magazine and ad photo stylist and designer. This gal has flair to spare! Unfortunately, we like the same kinds of stuff, and unfortunately, she was in line ahead of me, but since the house was so huge, there was plenty of vintage junk for all, so no problem-o.
Dining room packed with antiques
When the doors opened shortly before 8 a.m., we rushed inside. This was the kind of sale junkers dream of--a house packed full of decades and decades worth of treasures. The furniture, silver, crystal and china were the real deal. That portrait of Robert E. Lee in the dining room was priced at $18,000! Upstairs there was a magnificent rice-carved mahogany four-poster with it's own pull-out steps, I think it was $4,000. The high-ceilinged old rooms had once been elegant, but the whole house was painted a dingy green, giving the effect that you were under-water.
General Lee presides over the sale

I had myself a grand time, browsing and ogling. In the end, I managed to fill my tote for a grand total of $69. My biggest expenditure was a covered ironstone vegetable tureen for $20. I also bought a candlewick spread with a sprightly design of pink tulips for $2, a red vintage straw hat with a saucy red rose, some ironstone butter pats, a never-used pin the tail on the donkey game, a never used tartan wool lap blanket from Scotland, a tin tole tray, and a silver-plated bevelled hand mirror. True to my deep-seated need for vintage linens, I also succumbed to a flat sheet with pretty crocheted trim for $2, but I did manage to tear myself away from the wonderland of embroidered and monogrammed damask tablecloths and napkins and pillowcases.
Couldn't resist this vintage hat

My bag o' treasures
After the sale I met up with Liz and my pal Diane Kaufman, who owns Mermaid Cottage Vacation Rentals. Diane and her crew manage The Breeze Inn, and she has established her first off-beach beachhead with the tiniest, most adorable little cottage in downtown Savannah, which she has been re-doing. Can't wait to take pics of the finished project to share with you. We managed a quick dash through a promising new antique mall on Wright Square, and an even quicker dash through Habersham Antiques before I had to scoot back to Tybee to have lunch with new friends Beth and Carla, who'd lured me into lunching with them because they'd very sweetly scored me some vintage glass Christmas ornaments. What can I say? I'll lunch for junk any day.
New friends Beth and Carla
After lunch I told myself I needed to go grocery shopping at Publix, on Wilmington Island. That's what I told myself. Somehow, I ended up at the Goodwill. Now, I never find anything at that Goodwill. My friend Polly furnishes her whole booth at Seaside Sisters with Goodwill treasures, but I have never once found anything even remotely attractive there. But yesterday, I walked to the back of the store, and there it was--shining like a nugget of gold in a heap of sad, fugly '80s cast-offs. A vintage rattan sofa! In decent condition! With sad, fugly Herculon plaid cushions! For $39.99! I could not rip the tag off that puppy fast enough. Marched myself up to the cash register and staked my claim in a loud voice.

Gem of a vintage sofa in the landfill of fugly

Then I went back to fondle and fawn and photograph said sofa. And I noticed a pair of vintage mahogany bookcases. They were unpriced, so I marched back to the front to inquire. "Oh those? They're $9.99 apiece." Oh those? They are so mine now.
Couldn't pass up this promising pair
And then, to put the cherry on my sundae--the cashier looked me over and asked if I might qualify for the senior citizen discount. Let me just say that when I got that nasty AARP card in the mail after a certain birthday, I ripped it up in a huff. I don't ask for discounts at the grocery or the movies. But at the Goodwill? For 10 percent off? Hell to the yeah. Today I must commandeer a truck to pick up my stuff. And get some fabric for those sofa cushions. And hide the sofa in the garage at the Breeze, while the cushions get recovered. Shh. Do NOT tell Mr. Mary Kay. Oh yeah, time to get back to writing again.

The Pound Cake Chronicles

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Wed, 22 Dec 2010 18:16:00 +0000

Ingredients lined up on the kitchen counter

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."

Batter up!

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.

Pattycake, pattycake, bake me a cake as fast as you can!

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?

A plethora of pound cakes

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. This 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. The cakes arrived in New York and New Jersey last week, and the excited emails began popping up in my in-box.

Cake day--boxes ready to be packed

"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. And it will be worth doing for you too, although, take my advice, and do NOT start sending these as Christmas gifts. Unless you have plans to open your own bakery
next year.

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 with one cup of confectioner's sugar and 1-2 Tbsp. of fresh lemon juice.

Fun, Games, and Giveaways: Ho! Ho! Ho!

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 16:03:00 +0000

With Christmas right around the corner, I got a special gift this month from my friend Jay Powell at Digi Ronin Games.

It turns out that the casual game “Mary Kay Andrews: The Fixer Upper” is now available in Target stores! Up until now, the game was available only as a PC-download, sold online on various gaming sites. But now you can buy the PC-version in your local Target. It’s even in a snazzy box designed to look just like the book cover--perfect for gift giving if you have some MKA fans on your list. Cool, right?

But that’s not all.

Jay has also gotten a Mac-based version of the game approved by the gods at Apple. So now all of you iPad users can play the game too!

Well, it is better to give than to receive as they say. Having received this good news—along with a bunch of boxed copies of the game AND some free digital download codes for both the PC and Mac versions of the game—now I get to give these out to my loyal fans. Oh how I love to play Santa!

Enter to win your free download or a boxed copy of the game by visiting my Facebook page. Leave a comment letting us know what books you are giving as gifts this year. And at the end of your note, be sure to mention whether you are on a PC or a Mac. We’ll select winners at random from all the entries and contact the lucky winners next week, just in time for Christmas.

Merry Christmas to us all and good luck everyone!

Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 11:11:00 +0000

I'm linking to a fun holiday decorating blog party here

>

Vintage silver and gold glass grapes and silver candlesticks
Whew! Did you hear that giant sigh of relief? That was me, happy to have nearly all my Christmas decorating completed. And yes, there are still another half dozen bins of stuff down in the basement. After having two different homes on our neighborhood's Christmas tour three different times, we (and by we I mean I) have accumulated a lot of holiday decorations. A veritable buttload, my husband would say. When your house is on a Christmas tour, you find yourself putting Christmas trees in the claw-foot tub in your son's bathroom (2008), and your husband's office (2008). You find yourself painting your office walls only hours before the tour begins (2000). You sweet-talk your girlfriend and her daughter into wallpapering your bathroom the night before the tour. (1996). And of course, you buy miles of garland and enough lights to string halfway around the world. Why? You rationalize that you are doing this for the betterment of mankind. But really, if you're me, you can't not. If you're me, you fervently believe that anything worth doing is worth overdoing. But this year, we are not, thankfully, on tour. So I've simplified. Bwahahahahaha. Who am I kidding? I thought I'd share pix of some of my Christmas collections. Unlike most people, my collections are not numbered, signed, or dated. There is no Christmas Spode in my cupboards, no Christmas villages on a tabletop. Nor are there any artisan-made velvet Santas. I like all these things, but they do not speak to me. What speaks to me are old dime-store decorations. Brush trees from Woolworth's. Plastic Santa candy containers from Kresge's. Honeycomb snowmen from stores that haven't existed since the '60s. For years and years, I've picked up my kitschy little cuties at estate sales and the occasional dealer, especially when I'm junking in the Midwest. Some of my vintage treasures still have their yellowed original price stickers or grease-pencilled prices pencilled on the bottom. Hmm. When was the last time you found anything for 19 cents? Me neither, but these guys remind me of those simpler, cheesier days.

Vintage (mostly) snowmen snuggle up in the secretary.

I love looking at vintage Christmas collectibles on blogs and at antique shows, but I only add to my own collections when I find things on the cheap. The thrill of the hunt, you know. And I love arranging everything around the house once the bins have been brought up from the basement. I put on my Sinatra, Crosby and Nat King Cole Christmas CDs, and light an aromatherapy candle and commence to putter. I line up the brush trees, some of them shedding their glitter and rusted branches like their real-life counterpart in the living room, on the shelves of the Welsh cupboard in the dining room.

Vintage brush trees sprout among the transferware
The snowmen have found a home in the glass-front secretary in the living room, and the Santas and elves are always perched on top of my collection of vintage picnic baskets, thermoses and breadboxes in the old pine armoire. This year, with Miss Molly toddling around, it's good to be able to gently close the armoire doors to keep busy fingers away.
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Santas and elves congregate on picnic tins and thermoses.

Little lost lambs mingle with plastic reindeer

This year, the lambs, most of which were probably orphaned from old nativity sets, decided to herd up with the plastic reindeer on a silver tray on top of the mahogany chest by the sofa. But other years, they've paraded across the mantle. I'm hoping the lambs won't ridicule the reindeer for their missing antlers, or for being so woefully out of scale, compared to the sheep.

Santa mugs and jug lined up on kitchen windowsill

The Santa mug collection got its start because my grandmother had some at her house when I was very young. My sister Susie and I pieced a set together after finding boxes of them at a florist shop. The ones pictured here are actually tiny nut-cup sized, but I've also got the cocoa-sized ones on another windowsill.

Christmas boxes seated by the fireplace...for now
Some years I don't add a single piece to my collections. But this year I picked up a couple of these holiday gift boxes. Some years I get really lucky and find vintage Christmas decorations inside the old gift boxes, a rare twofer. My favorite recent find is the box I got for fifty cents. On one side is a large-lettered label. ELF HATS. I seem to remember that the elf hats were in shreds.

Brush tree and mercury-glass ornaments

Because every year the holidays seem to get busier, I always try to fit in some down time, an afternoon or evening when we turn down the lamps, light the tree, loll on the sofa with a glass of wine, and watch an old Christmas movie. Sometimes, Katie will agree to share my ritual of watching White Christmas. I try to savor these moments, and not think about the day AFTER Christmas, when Mr. Mary Kay will start tapping his toe and demanding that I pack up that buttload of stuff, piece by piece, tissue by tissue, so it can go back down to the basement again until next year. Sigh.

A Sunset Postscript

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 22:35:00 +0000

Saturday night was indeed, an engaging evening on Tybee Island. If you read my blog from Sunday, Nov. 21, you saw that Mr. Mary Kay and I chanced upon a young man intent on posing a very important question to the girl of his dreams, whose name is Dana. Tybee is small, and the internet is big, and it happens that the young man, whose name is Blake, works with our friend Carolyn, who'd invited us to share their sunset viewing that night. Carolyn shared my blog with Blake, who, it turns out, didn't mind me sharing his happiness with my readers.

I thought you'd enjoy reading the email I received from Blake this morning:

Thank you to both you and Mr. Mary Kay for assisting me with my preparations for the evening. I wanted to let you know that you were indeed party to the best night of my life so far. She did say yes! In fact, she said, “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Of course!”

Dana models the bling

Sigh. Don't you just love a happy ending?

A Day at the Beach

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Sun, 21 Nov 2010 13:48:00 +0000

Most of the time when we're down at the Breeze Inn on Tybee, we're preoccupied. Mr. Mary Kay is out fishing on his boat, I'm junking, or pimping my antique booth at Seaside Sisters, or working on the next book. We've had a busy weekend this month, as always, seeing old friends, ect. I did a signing for BLUE CHRISTMAS at Seaside Sisters, and Mr. Mary Kay was tearing up the sea trout and redfish. But Saturday night, our friend Carolyn invited us to join her and her husband at "the point" for sunset. It had been another beautiful mild autumn day on Tybee, and sunset sounded like a great idea. We fixed ourselves an adult cocktail and headed off to the beach. The first thing we spotted was the glowing orange sky over Little Tybee Island. Silhouetted in front of that was a small wedding party, a young bride and her handsome groom in full Marine dress uniform. As we were headed down the boardwalk, another man nervously asked my husband if he could give him a hand carrying his stuff down to the beach. He had two picnic baskets, a cooler backpack, and a portable CD player, plus a blanket. He confided to MMK that he was plotting a proposal for his girlfriend, and packed everything for just the right ambience.
We joined our friends on the beach and settled in for a technicolor sunset. The wedding was completed with a quiet round of applause. Children splashed in the chilly water in front of us, and lovers strolled past hand-in-hand. We chatted with our friends, but mostly took in the spectacular scenery. As the sky turned violet, and then dark blue, we packed up our little camp and headed back up the beach. We spotted the young lovers, laughing and sipping wine in the glow of a candle, and we could hear strains of their mood music floating across the dunes. We discreetly skirted their location, fingers crossed that the young man's proposal was accepted. We rode back to The Breeze and our planned dinner, with a renewed vow to stop and watch the sunset---even in November.

Long Time Gone

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 12:30:00 +0000

Yes, more than two weeks between blogs. A thousand pardons! But I've been working, truly I have. Book signings and speeches, and novel-hatching and such. A couple weeks ago I was the speaker at The Southern Lady Celebration, here in Atlanta, at the Grand Hyatt, sponsored by Southern Lady magazine from Birmingham. Great group of 500-600 women, and such a fun, Spanx-worthy audience--yes, I even put on hose, makeup and heels for the event! The next morning I was off to my annual writer's retreat to the Weymouth Center for Arts & Humanities in Southern Pines, NC.

Southern Ladies Prove to be Spanx-Worthy

I'm fortunate enough to be part of a writing group called The Weymouth Seven. It just happens that we are all women novelists. We all met years ago through our mutual friend/mentor Nancy Olsen, who owns the awesome QUAIL RIDGE BOOKS in Raleigh, NC. At first we used to just get together and bitch and whine about how hard it is to write. But eventually, we decided it might be fun to go away together and write and workshop and brainstorm...and bitch and whine. That first time, I think four of us went to a borrrowed house at Holden Beach, N.C.

Weymouth 7-Minus Bren, who was MIA

But the group grew, and our deterimination sharpened, and one of the group, Diane Chamberlain, had heard of this arts center in Southern Pines that offered writer-in-residence programs that would allow us to live in the gorgeous old Boyd mansion, FREE, for up to a week. Diane went solo that first time, and the rest of us followed.

Diane and I took a stroll in the gardens

We think our retreat last week was our tenth! We've also met at another borrowed beach house at Topsail Island, and last year, we gathered at our own Breeze Inn on Tybee, but we always try to meet once a year at Weymouth.

Don't know why, but the place seems to hold magic. We arrive with our laptops and crockpots, claim our rooms and writing corners, and settle down to work. There are lots of nooks and crannies at Weymouth where you can hole up and write in splendid seclusion, but there's also a great library, where we gather at night. Each writer brings a dinner, which we eat communally, but we're on our own for breakfast and lunch. A LOT of coffee (and Diet Coke for me) is consumed.

Alex working dark magic in the library.

We try to start mornings by setting goals and brainstorming. I've turned into the self-appointed retreat task-master, querying everybody on their work in progress, any stumbling blocks, and what they'd really like to achieve. And I write it ALL down. This time around, several of us--myself included, were starting new books, which can be agony. Two of our members, Sarah Shaber and Katy Munger, have new book contracts, which we celebrated. So we did a lot of brainstorming, kicking around ideas, making suggestions for characters and plot. Then, we headed for our hidey-holes to write. And plot. And chart. At the end of the day, we all drifted back to the library for dinner, wine, progress reports, more brainstorming, and then, a round of word games.

Diane "Working the Outline Grid"

If I'm the whipper-snapper, our friend Margaret Maron is the leader, the glue that holds us together, not to mention the champion at Scrabble, Balderdash and Taboo. Unfortunately, Margaret was in a car accident, where she sustained four broken ribs, just a few days before we were to leave, so she was a no-show, although we were so glad she was able to make it to the rescheduled launch of her brand-new book, CHRISTMAS MOURNING at Raleigh's Quail Ridge Books on Saturday. If you missed her there, you can still order autographed books here, and the nice folks at QRB will ship 'em to you.

Last Monday, we did a panel discussion and group booksigning, with books supplied by our favorite local indy, The Country Bookseller. If you missed us, we left behind lots of signed books.

Another day, our own Alexandra Sokoloff treated us to a mini-workshop on her Three Act Structure charting system. Alex teaches her method frequently, and if you're a writer, looking for a new way to plot, I highly recommend her work. In fact, she also has a fantastic workbook you can download.
In between brainstorming sessions, the good people of Southern Pines decided we needed treats. Giant bags of Peanut M&Ms (our favorite brain food) were dropped off. Mysterious foil-wrapped trays of rugelach, cookies and brownies appeared in our kitchen. "For the Writers" was taped to each tray. We got so sugar-buzzed we joked that we'd have to put up a sign on the stairway: PLEASE DON'T FEED THE WRITERS. Just joking, of course.

By Friday, the end of our work week, I think all of us were thrilled with the amount of work we'd gotten done. I managed to write more than 10,000 words, and come up with the first five chapters of the NEXT book. So it was a very, very good week.

On the long drive back to Atlanta I decided to treat myself to a junk stop. I'd read the blog for a shop called OLD-TYME ANTIQUE MARKET in Marshallville, NC, and just had to check it out. Beth, the owner, was a doll, and her shop is a delight. I could have loaded everything i her shop into the back of my car. Instead, I practiced restraint and only picked up a few things.
It was great to get home to Mr. MKA and the rest of the family on Friday. Grandbaby Molly seemed to have sprouted another 3 inches. My to-do list grew just as rapidly. But I've got a solid start to the NEXT book, and am happy to be firmly back in the writing saddle once again. And now come the holidays. Sigh. At least Mr. MKA takes care of the turkey.

What Comes Next?

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 20:19:00 +0000

SUMMER RENTAL is done. Mostly. I've finished the copy edits, written the dedication, am working on the acknowledgements. Also the recipes still have to be written. Which means that my writing plate is, metaphorically speaking, clean. So, you ask, what comes next?

Next comes the fun. Starting a new book is like starting the first day of school--you know, back before you hated school and worried about passing math and whether or not you'd ever get a date, or get accepted to a college, any college. I like to think about starting a new book in terms of getting up excited in the morning, putting on a starched cotton plaid dress with a big sash bow in the back, and marching off, newly sharpened Number 2 pencils in hand, along with a crisp new notebook, to find knowledge and new books in the library.

I don't want to tell you too much about What Comes Next, because I'm Irish, and deeply superstitious, and don't want to hex the little embryonic book that is even now growing and developing in my warped subconscious.

What I will tell you is how this little puppy was conceived. I dreamed it. Yup. For several nights running this summer, I dreamt of a woman. She was sitting in a church and she was righteously PISSED. Hmm. So one night, in my dream, or maybe it was while I was driving, I asked that dream woman what she was doing. And she told me--"I'm watching my ex-husband get re-married."

Reaallly? "Yup," she said. "And I'm okay with it." Reallly?

I mentioned to my agent and my editor that this woman was bothering me with repeat appearances. Since it was time for me to tell them exactly what my NEXT book would be, I thought it might be good if I went back to dream woman and asked her a few more questions.
I scribbled down some options. Cobbled together a proposal for the NEXT book. And they like it, they really like it.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I thought I might share with you the twisted process I go through when hatching an idea. Because readers ask me this all the time. Where do you get your ideas? When my children were younger, I frequently got them during carpool, either driving to school in the morning, or waiting in the school parking lot in the afternoon. I got them while reading the newspaper. Once, a dear friend's son was involved in a searing custody battle, and I sat in the courtroom with her, and the idea for a book was born from her pain. I got the idea for HISSY FIT while sitting in a bubble bath. I had to scribble down the idea for SAVANNAH BREEZE on a paper napkin in a restaurant in Charleston, after I eavesdropped on a conversation at the next table.

Once I have an idea, I pester my agent. What do you think? Could this be a book? Is there a story here? Is this a character my readers will love? And is it I story I could tell and tell really well? Does it seem like a Mary Kay Andrews story?

Stuart is a very, very patient man. He's used to these deranged phone calls and knows exactly how to keep me on process. Sometimes, he hates the idea, and he'll tell me why, and I'll go away and sulk for a while, but almost always, I come to realize he's right. Other times he loves the idea, and he'll brainstorm with me. That's how the plot of SUMMER RENTAL came about, over dinner (and wine) before a book-signing two years ago at the Jersey Shore.

Once Stuart likes the idea, I noodle around with it some more. In the meanwhile, he has a conversation with my editor, just to see if she likes it too. Fortunately, Jen seems to love the idea for the NEXT book. We have phone discussions, and I scribble some ideas. What's the name of this character? Names are incredibly important to me. For protagonists, I like a name that sounds unique, which is why my books are peopled with characters with names like Callahan, Neva Jean, Weezie, BeBe, Mary Bliss, Keeley and Dempsey. For the protagonist of my next book, I chose the name of my late great-grandmother, whom I only met as a very young child. I love that name so much I could hug it, I could eat it for dessert, that's how much I love this name.

Where is the book set? A real town, or a made-up place? Georgia, or someplace else? It's looking like someplace else, this time around, probably a made-up small town in North Carolina. What does my character do? Oh, what fun I'm going to have writing about the world of this next book. I've already started researching that world, and at the risk of sounding smug, it's gonna be good.

What's my protagonist's dilemma? Hmm. I guess we start with the fact that she's actually attending her ex-husband's wedding. What's that all about? Now we're getting down to brass tacks. Now comes the hard part. Actually plotting the story. For me, characters and setting are the icing, the sweet part that comes quite naturally. Now I've got to bake the cake, making sure I have a strong, stable, tasty platform to support my characters. I've got to figure out how to get her out of that church pew--and into and out of all kinds of plot complications.

Lucky for me, my writer's group is having our twice-yearly retreat next week. We'll meet up at the Weymouth Center in Southern Pines, N.C., lugging our laptops and crockpots and notebooks and index cards--and peanut M&Ms and cheap Chardonnay. We'll all share the ideas for our next books, brainstorm, set goals, write like women possessed---and then, at night, meet to bitch and whine, discuss progress, and most importantly, play word games like Scrabble, Balderdash and Taboo.

Hopefully, at the end of the week, I'll come home with the strong foundation--and lots of new pages, of the NEXT book. I'll put away my little plaid dress, climb into my black yoga pants, and get down to work.

How about you? Is there a novel raging inside you? Did you know that today is the first day of National Novel Writing Month? (Also known as NaNoWriMo) Check here for the details, and let me know what you decide. Who knows? Maybe November will be the month we all get a book going.

La Bella Italia

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 04:39:00 +0000

Sunset over the Meditteranean, at Cinque Terre

Winemaker Enzo Tiezzi at his beautiful Montalcino vineyard

Mike and Shay and me, windy day in Florence

Lunch at a sidewalk cafe in Florence

Fair warning: this is a loong post. it's the modern-day version of your Uncle Seymour's grainy slide-shows of his vacation in Peoria. Unlike most of my posts, there will be absolutely no junk, and no whining about what hard work it is writing a book. And there will be gushing. So just deal.

What can I say about a trip with four long-time dear friends, a trip to Tuscany, yet? It was bravissima. Last week we flew into Florence with longtime friends Jinx and Mike, and Jack and Shay. Shay, who is a bargain travel phenom, found us an unbelievably cheap package deal, so cheap we just couldn't say no. It was a first trip there for all of us, I think, so we allowed ourselves to be total tourists. Looking back, I'm amazed at how serendipitous the week was. Armed only with our Garmin (whom the boys nicknamed Betty), and our Rick Steves' and Fodor's travel guides, time after time we managed to stumble into once-in-a-lifetime experiences. We stayed in a villa outside a castle in a tiny village twenty minutes from Florence, and we had two rental cars for exploring. And did we explore! We checked out the market in a little town named Edna--no wait, that's my grandma's name, maybe it was Elsa. Never mind. It was a cool town and we strolled around and bought big hunks of salami and cheese to bring home. Another day we visited the ancient walled villages of Volterra and San Gimignana, which our friend Jack insisted on referring to as San Chimichanga. In Volterra, as we approached a hill overlooking the ruins of an ampitheatre, we heard the sounds of opera floating up. A movie was being filmed, and at that moment, a pianist was accompanying a fine soprano who was singing Mimi's aria from La Boheme--(the only opera I've ever actually attended). Another day we explored Montalcino, which is known for its fine local wineries. At the tourist information office, Jinx asked about touring a winery and was given a phone number to call. The person who answered the phone didn't speak much English, and like the rest of us, Jinx's Italian is pretty much limited to words like vino, zuppa, pan and toiletta. Still, she managed to arrange a tour at a winery within walking distance. The wine gods were with us, because the proprietor of Tiezzi, Dr. Enzo Tiezzi, was so sweet and welcoming, we quickly forgot about the language barrier. He proudly showed us the winery, let us taste his exquisite Brunello, even let us climb a ladder and peer into a vat of fermenting grapes. It was an unforgettable day. Our visit to Siena was just as memorable. We were in awe of the Duomo there, and discovered we were lucky to have timed our visit for October, one of only two months of the year when the cathedral's breathtakingly detailed inlaid marble floors are uncovered for the public. Since we only had a week in Tuscany, alas, we allowed ourselves a single day to explore Florence. So much beauty, art, and culture, we found ourselves nearly suffering from sensory overload. We hadn't booked an advance tour of the Uffizi, but we did manage to take in the Duomo, the Medici chapels, and lastly, the Accademia, where we circled round and round Michelangelo's 17-foot-tall David. And when I say we, I mean, Jack, Jinx, Shay and I, because Mr. Mary Kay, who'd obligingly trotted through two other museums as well as FOUR churches on this trip, decided to repair with Mike to a nearby bar to rest his barking dogs. Mike's dogs musta been screaming, since he, Jinx and Jack clambered up all 400-something stairs at the Campanile. After all that culture, we threaded our way through the narrow cobblestoned back streets to a restaurant recommended by three different friends. Il Latini definitely lived up to its reputation. Over the course of more than two hours, we somehow managed to plow our way through SEVEN courses, fortified by two gigantic carafes of red wine, plus prosecco, grappa and limoncello. And just after we'd been presented with the bill, which amounted to about $45 apiece, the owner dropped off three bottles of the restaurant's own chianti, as a sort of party favor. On Monday, we drove two hours to a rugged area of the Italian coast called Cinque Terre, for the five picturesque towns strung along the steep cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean. We walked a one-mile cliffside stretch called the Via Dell'Amore--Italian for Lover's Walk. All along the way, tucked in amongst the drop-dead gorgeous scenery, were hundreds, probably thousands of little padlocks, fastened to chain-link fencing--symbols, we learned, of couples' declarations of exclusive devotion. As we were driving away, we were treated to what must have been the most glorious, technicolor sunset we'd ever seen. And then, on our next-to-last day, we drove around the chianti trail, sampling more wine and divine food. And because everything about this trip was serendipitous, there was one more splendid sunset, this time with the soft green and golden hills of Tuscany in the foreground. I think my favorite town of the day was Greve, but it's all fast becoming a blur, making me wonder: did we really do this? Spend a week in Tuscany? I wrote Facebook posts on my iPhone most days, just so I'd have a reminder of what we'd seen and done. And I have the photos to remind me. And a handful of chianti-scented wine corks. Oh yeah, and probably five extra pasta and pizza-related pounds. But it was so worth it. Definitely. End of gush.

Christmas...Coming to a bookstore near you!

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 23:04:00 +0000

I know, I know, the holidays creep up on us earlier every year, and I sorta resent the intrusion. I mean, it's still in the 80s here in Atlanta. But the calendar doesn't lie. It's nearly mid-October. The stores are full of Halloween candy and costumes, and just lurking on the loading dock of every retail outlet in America are all those cases and cartons of Christmas merchandise. The thing is, if you have a Christmas book, which I do, you get asked to do book signings in advance of the holidays.

So, in the spirit of cooperation, and let's face it, writers have to sell books, or they don't get asked to write any more books, plus, it's a total buzz-kill for a writer to show up at a signing WITH NO CUSTOMERS (trust me, it's happened to me, more than once). I thought I'd give you my upcoming event schedule for BLUE CHRISTMAS. I hope some of you will come. Or a lot of you. Yeah, a lot would be good. That way I can get in the Christmas spirit my ownself. And besides, one of the good things about holiday book signings is, they're usually good for some free snacks, maybe some wine or that awesome Hawaiian Punch/Ginger Ale/goony green sherbert punch--which I actually like, because it reminds me of my Girl Scout days. But don't be looking for fruitcake. I think it's in my contract. No fruitcake at MKA book signings. Cookies, fudge, pound cake, cheese straws, those Bisquick-sausage thingies, yes. Fruitcake no. Do come. Bring some friends. Maybe I'll bring some leftover Halloween candy. As if.

Tues. Oct. 26, 6:30pm

The Book Exchange, Marietta, Ga.

2956 Canton Rd.

770-427-4848.

Holiday signing with Patti Callahan Henry.

RSVP, plus $5 donation and children's book for charity donation.

Fri. Nov. 5, 7:45pm

Southern Lady Celebration

Grand Hyatt, Atlanta

Dinner Speech and book signing

Southern Lady Celebration website.

Mon. Nov. 8, 2pm.

Weymouth Center for the Arts

Southern Pines, N.C.

Booksales by The Country Bookshop

Tues. Nov. 16, 7p.m.

FoxTale Book Shoppe

Holiday book signing with Patti Callahan Henry

105 E. Main St. #138

Woodstock, GA. 30188

770-516-9989

Weds. Dec. 8

Hilton Head Island, SC

Holiday luncheon & book signing

Sea Pines Conference Center/Harbour Inn

email wrennhb@aol.com

Dec. 10-12

Lavish Lifestyle Blogger Event

Atlanta, GA.

Me and The Junk Hunk

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 02:39:00 +0000

Me, Mike and the Phillip Morris bellhop

Me and Mike, with Danielle and my junk buddy Barb

Mike's mom Rita, a sweetheart for sure

Hanging out at Pelo's coffee shop

Beautiful LeClaire's Riverfront View of the Mississippi

Okay, I admit it. I'm a little bit starstruck. Like five million other Americans, I've been watching AMERICAN PICKERS since it began airing on The History Channel last year. I learned about the program from my junk buddy Sue over at Vintage Rescue Squad. Once I saw the show, a little bell rang. I knew this guy. Yeah. When "Savannah Blues" was first published, way back in 2002, I got an email from this guy named Mike Wolfe. He told me he was a picker, and was intrigued that I'd written a novel about an antique picker. We corresponded, and he sent me a short video clip of his picking adventures, explaining that he was trying to sell a show to a cable network. Riiiight, I thought. Like that's gonna happen. Shows you what I know. It took Mike seven or eight years of hard work, but darned if he didn't sell a show. And it rocks. When my friend Barb and I set out on our Midwest Junk Junket, starting in Dayton, Ohio this week, Barb pointed out that our eventual destination, Champaign, Illinois, was only a few hours from LeClaire, Iowa, where Antique Archaeology is based. So...we drove to LeClaire. What the heck? I'd never been to Iowa, and maybe we'd run into Mike, the junk hunk. Suuuure. We got to LeClaire at about six Wednesday night, and drove around, trying to locate the shop. It's a small, gorgeous town, set right on the banks of the Mississippi River. So picturesque, with neat little shops and restaurants downtown. No luck. So we turned a corner, to look for the library, and instead, drove right up to a building with the trademark Antique Archaeology truck parked around back. We got out of our car, decided it must be Mike's house, but did not want to engage in what my daughter would describe as creepy stalker-girl behavior. We took pictures of ourselves with the truck, and then went to dinner at a restaurant just down the block. Wouldn't you know it, walking back to our car afterwards, I spotted a familiar-looking guy walking two black dogs down the street. Mike? Mike! We stopped and chatted. He remembered our correspondence, and we agreed to meet for coffee this morning. If you ever get to LeClaire, definitely stop at Pelo's, which is in a charming old building, run by the third generation owner. Maybe you'll run into Mike, or at least Mike's mom, Rita, who is just a total sweetheart. She plays Mrs. Santa Claus for the community children every Christmas. Love her. And Mike--ya gotta love a guy who spends time with his mama, right? And how can you not love a guy who sets up a facebook page for his Border Collie, Ruby? Long story short, we were lucky enough to spend an hour or so with Mike and his Mom. Did not get to meet Frank, darn it. We went to the shop, got to meet Danielle for a skinny minute, before she left to run errands, and best of all, we got to see some of Mike's favorite picks, up close and personal--the giant Phillip Morris statue, the carnival games, the big red arrow, the Laurel and Hardy heads, ect. Mike's passion for "rusty gold" is so genuine, so infectious, it's no wonder his show is a huge hit. He's like a kid who's been given the keys to the candy store. And here's some of what he shared with us: it takes a crew of nine people to shoot the show. They work two weeks on, then two weeks off. California is the next pick--starting in San Diego and working north to San Francisco. Danielle has become such a celebrity, they've had to hire three other people just to help clean up and sell their vintage finds, which they actually do sell, either through the shop or on eBay. They get an estimated 10,000 leads for potential picks EVERY WEEK! Mike has bought a shop in downtown Nashville, in an awesome old brick building that used to be an auto plant, and they'll divide their time between Nashville and LeClaire. We saw pix, and it is going to be amazing, and very accessible to fans who want to visit, buy a T-shirt or an antique bike, and maybe even meet the guys. What else? Oh yeah. They definitely keep up on their tetanus shots.

Our Fair Affair

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 01:26:00 +0000

It's fall, y'all, up here in Ohio

Our great Midwest junk jaunt started Sunday with a trip to Columbus, Ohio for the Country Living Antique Fair. We had a great time, but the name "antique fair" is a little bit of a misnomer, because from my experience, the majority of the dealers weren't selling antiques, but rather handcrafts, with some vintage, some new seasonal items, lots of vendors of gift-type foods, and yes, some antiques. I did spend some time browsing the booth of one of my favorite dealers from Franklin, Tenn., Scarlett Scales. Some of the crafts, especially those made from vintage ephemera, were really original and appealing. And don't get me wrong, of course I managed to score some junk--including some gorgeous old linen sheets with hand-crocheted lace, three adorable old aprons--incliuding two Christmas aprons, and a sweet leaf-shaped wooden wall bracket. Saw lots of wonderful chippy furniture with good prices, since we were there the last day of the fair, but alas, I don't think Delta will let me check a step-back cupboard in with my luggage.

Goin' to hell in a Longaberger handbasket with Barb

The weather was perfect Sunday, sunny, but cool enough for a jacket. In fact, it was the first time I've had on closed-toed shoes since June! The setting for the fair was neat too, since it was held in the Ohio Village, near the Ohio History Center. The village is full of period-type buildings, and the grounds were decorated with hay bales and pumpkins and gourds and chrysanthemums and corn shocks--a beautiful autumnal setting. The Country Living magazine folks had lots of cooking, craft and decorating demonstrations going on all day, and there were tons of food booths. I stood for a long time salivating over the grilled pork chop booth, but finally my friend Barb and I settled for barbecue. Who knew Ohioans could do 'cue?

Pickin' and grinnin' at the fair

I stood for a long time, listening to these two fellas, harmonizing on "You Are My Sunshine," but then I had to get back to the business of junking. Finally, Barb and I dragged ourselves back to her home in Yellow Springs. We fixed a quick dinner, then headed out to her town's movie theatre, The Little Art, where we saw "Get Low." I always love Robert Duvall and Bill Murray, and it was especially fun sitting in an Ohio movie theatre, watching a movie filmed partially in Georgia. This morning, we headed out for Indiana, specifically Old U.S. 40, also called The National Highway, and it's "Antique Alley." I scored so much good stuff today I'll end up shipping back some of it. Will try to post pix tomorrow, but in the meantime, wanted to share this Addams Family type house we spotted in Greenfield, Indiana. We halfway expected Uncle Fester to come popping out of the shrubbery!

It's creepy and it's spooky...mysterious & ooky...

The Great Midwest Junk Junket

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 02:29:00 +0000

Tomorrow I fly to Dayton, Ohio, to hook up with junk buddy Barb. We'll hit the Country Living Antique Fair in Columbus, on Sunday, and then we'll start our Midwest odyssey, heading across Ohio, and Indiana, to Illinois, with possibly a detour to Iowa. To tell ya the truth, being a directionally challenged Southern gal, I couldn't swear that we won't hit Wyoming or Kansas on the way, although I don't think so. Anyway, watch this space to follow up on all our cool junking adventures.

Just had to write to say

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Mon, 20 Sep 2010 17:57:00 +0000

Sorry I've been away from the blog for two whole weeks. But life has been crazy. I finally finished the last set of revisions for TFB (the friggin' book). I'm beyond ecstatic about the final product, which is called SUMMER RENTAL, and which should be out next summer. And then I had to launch immediately into coming up with an idea for the book for summer 2012. And I did. I really love this idea and can't wait to get started. And then I had to go down to Tybee and get The Breeze Inn ready for Boomerang Boy's birthday celebration. He and a "few" of his closest friends gathered there this past weekend, and the good news is that there were no arrests and the place is reportedly still standing. While I was there, I stocked my booth at Seaside Sisters chockful of excellent treasures. You should go check it out, and check into The Breeze Inn. Did I mention, it's still standing?

Chalkware kittycat
As soon as I got home from Tybee, it was time to take off for Lake Oconee, where some posse members celebrated our friend Shay's double-nickel birthday. The guys golfed and the girls shopped. We had a great time junking in Greensboro and Madison, where, of course, HISSY FIT is set. I picked up the chalkware kitty for a song at an antique mall in Greensboro.

This adorable toy ironing board and iron came from the Madison Marketplace antique mall and reminded me I might need to catch up on my ironing. No maker's mark that I can find, but I just couldn't pass this up, or the Tom Thumb toy typewriter at the top of the page. I seem to have a thing for children's tin toys. I've sold at least three Tom Thumb cash registers, a couple of tin phones, and now the above typewriter, which I'm tempted to keep, since I do make a living from typing, right?

Madison has so many cute shops, including a great vintage clothing consignment shop, where I found this cute black faille pocketbook with lucite fastener and handles. It'll look great with the vintage black satin slips accented with rhinestone bling that I put in the booth last week. I can just picture some cute young SCAD (Savannah College of Art and Design) girl wearing these for a fun evening out.

And now? I must sail away, although not on this spiffy chalkware sailing ship bookend I found in Greensboro. Busy week ahead with starting proposal for the new book, and then on Saturday, I'm headed for Ohio where I'll team up with junk buddy Barb for a trip to the Country Living Antique Fair in Columbus, followed by a junk junket all the way through Indiana and Illinois to Champaign, where I'm giving a talk for the library Sept. 30th. Hope to see some of you along the way!

The Man in the Other Room

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 19:17:00 +0000

I left the life of a newspaper reporter way back in 1991, and since that time, I've worked at home, solo. My first "office" was our dining room table. Since our children were four and eight at the time, I pushed aside the mounds of unfolded laundry and toys, and wrote there. Later, I converted a closet into an office, setting up my very first huge desktop computer. Several years after that, my husband built me an office in a shed left-over from the 1996 Atlanta Olympics. It measured 10-by-10, was heated and cooled with a motel HVAC unit, and was frequently visited by bugs and birds, who figured out how to get in through the eaves. We moved to Raleigh, and I got a nicer, bigger office, in the back half of our garage, from a room that had once been a work-out room. Hah! When we moved back to Atlanta three years ago, my office was set up in a former sewing room. All this time, as I said, I've worked solo. But now there's A MAN IN THE OTHER ROOM. Mr. Mary Kay is working from home these days. Gulp. Our home. His office abuts mine. I can hear the squeak of his office chair. He can hear me muttering under my breath. He doesn't like the way I sort the mail. I don't like having to share the morning paper. But we are working things out. Since he's in such close proximity, he actually agreed to read the latest draft of my next book, and he had many amazingly helpful suggestions. Of course, some of them were amazingly pain-in-the-ass comments. I mean, come on, we've been married for centuries. Many days, he pokes his head in the door and wants to know my thoughts on lunch. Usually my thoughts run to....leftovers. Or M&Ms, but I never tell him about those M&M lunches. MMK's thoughts run to something hot, and specially prepared, because for all these years, he's used to business lunches. So...as I said, we're working it out. Now that what I hope (and pray to GAWD) are the final revisions for SUMMER RENTAL are in, I'm noodling around with ideas for the next book. I've had this weird vision of an opening, and I'm trying to figure out what the story is. Yesterday, I sketched out some ideas, and showed them to him. His general reaction was...WTF? There's no book here. Which was true,all I had was a name for the main character, and a description of her ex-husband, which was to say that he was an asshat--a phrase MMK had never heard before. Today was one of those very special days. I suggested a lunch place to him, barbecue. He agreed. On the way to the restaurant, I filled him in on the conversation I'd had with my agent, and told him I needed a family business for my character to run. I suggested one, and he quickly came up with another suggestion. WHICH WAS GENIUS. Truly. We went to lunch, and my mind was running a mile a minute with ways this could work. So. Maybe I'll have to overlook the squeaky chair and the picky lunch notions. Yeah. I think I'll keep him.

Winners of the Beach Basket Giveaway!

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Kay Andrews) — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 16:03:00 +0000

With summer is drawing to a close, I figured it was high time I awarded the prize in my Book Club Beach Basket Giveaway. As you may recall, I invited anyone in a book club to share their most memorable experience. Reading all the e-mails gave me a nice break in the action from revisions on my next novel. There were some great entries—many which reminded me of exactly what I love about taking part in the two book clubs that I’m in.

I heard all about cocktails and BBQs in backyards, on decks and porches while gathering to talk about books and life in general. I heard about Andrea and the Chick Lits’ trip to Savannah, GA, Kathy’s club’s adventures on Fripp Island, SC, the time Kristi’s club got snowed in at a ski house, and Felicia’s long-distance club’s first-ever in-person meeting in Texas. Your stories about your club saving you with their friendship, seeing you through cancer, and surprising you with baby showers warmed my heart and had me reflecting on the true blue friendships I’ve made through my own clubs. Your tales of potlucks with food and cocktails inspired by the books, of girls’ days out and movie nights made me look forward to whatever adventure my club’s next meeting will bring. Ann-Marie relayed a story about her club sharing bar space with the local men’s softball team which reminded me of a school dance with the boys lined up on one side of the gym and the girls on the other. (The more things change, the more they stay the same.) Several readers wrote in to say how much they enjoy having the author join their discussion by phone and Skype. I loved to hear this because, as an author, I so enjoy meeting with clubs who are discussing my books; as a reader, I’m thrilled when my own club manages to get an author to join our chat. I propose a toast to Jennifer who wrote that her favorite moment with her book club is trumped every time they meet again!

OK, now for the envelope please. Again I found myself with the familiar dilemma of not being able to pick just one winner. So I will be sending out two baskets.

The first goes to Michelle Swindle Pardue whose Barbie Book Club sounds like a heckuva good time to me. OK, so they did read my very own Savannah Breeze on a group trip to Tybee Island, GA, but their excellent taste in books and getaway destinations did not sway my decision. It was their incredible spunk, their “togo Bloody Marys” fixed out of the trunk of a car, and their “happy place” under a pink and green beach umbrella that really got me.

The second winner is Sheila DeChantal who wrote in about The Bookies’ annual tradition of crowning a queen at an event complete with formal wear and a talent competition. The queen gets to be the tie-breaking decision on book selections and meeting places for the entire next year. Sheila, I bow to you and your fellow members.

Congratulations to Michelle and Sheila. Enjoy the baskets with your clubs in good health. Thanks to everyone for entering. And for anyone who is not already subscribed to my e-mail list, be sure to sign up. Another newsletter will be coming out soon featuring a recipe, a giveaway, and other good stuff.

Cheers!
MKA