Okay. This is me not panicking. In between signings this week--did you forget to run over to the Kroger in Alpharetta for my signing earlier tonight?--I've been intensifying the clean-up project. This morning I actually IRONED. Yes. I ironed the antique linen pillowshams for the upstairs guest bedroom, and the duvet covers. Also stripped the slipcovers from the dining room window-seat cushions and washed them. Wyatt loves to lounge on those cushions because he can look out the windows and plot his revenge on the squirrels and chipmunks outside who torment him on a daily basis. Unfortunately, Wyatt is frequently muddy and stinky. Fortunately, I made sure everything he might decide to lounge on around here is washable and bleachable. Bob the Builder showed up this morning and started to install the gorgeous oak cupboard he made for the kitchen. It looks even better than I hoped, and I promise I'll post pictures once Roz, my painter, gets it stained. I had to make a run to my favorite hardware store to get brass hinges and pulls for the cupboard. Eugenia's Antique Hardware in Chamblee is an absolute treasure trove of gorgeous vintage hardware, lighting and kitchen and bath doo-hickeys. Nothing there is repro, and the brothers who run it took over the business from their dad. If I were ever going to panic--which I'm not, it would have been today. I got an email from a reporter at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. They're going to run a little piece about the Avondale Home Tour, and they wanted to know if they could come over and take pictures of my house in all my holiday finery. EEK! So far, there is no finery. There is only paint cans and ironing boards and tarnished silver and giant piles of stuff. However, we have a plan. All the curtains that I'm having made should be ready to start being hung on Friday. The window washers are coming Friday. Tom and Andy bought our Christmas tree tonight while I was at my signing, and I've made them swear by all that's holy that they'll put said tree up tomorrow, and that Andy will start ferrying the Christmas cartons upstairs from the basement. I may have to call in the posse to help me get this thing decked out....stay tuned...

Less than two weeks til the Tour of Homes. Our house looks like something exploded. I keep trying to clear clutter from all the rooms, but all I seem to be doing is shovelling it from one spot to another. Take the upstairs guest bedroom. Boomerang Boy has annexed it into his own personal closet/laundry area. So I'm dealing with that. For months, I've been eyeing this tattered cardboard file box. Sunday it was time to deal with it. Chanting my new mantra..."letting go. this is me letting go,"
I lifted the lid of the box. Inside were several years worth of my old life as a newspaper reporter. Before switching careers in mid-life, I spent 14 years as a journalist, the last ten at The Atlanta Journal Constitution. One of the things you do as a journalist is save your stories, or clips, as they're called in the biz. This box seems to have clips from the late 80s. My intention was to just dump the whole box in the fireplace and toss in a match. But then I looked at the item on the top of the stack. It was a story from 1987. Apparently I'd interviewed Pat Boone for a story about his taking over hosting duties on the PTL club, after the scandal-plagued Jim Baaker had been forced out. I totally had NO memory of ever talking to Pat Boone. I sifted through more pages. And the thing was, since my stories generally played on the front of the AJC's features section, my stories ran right alongside the column of Celestine Sibley. If you never read Celestine Sibley's column, which ran for more than 50 years in the AJC, or read any of her wonderful mysteries, novels or collected essays, you've missed a rare treat. Celestine was an Altanta, even a Southern institution. She died in August of 1999, and the AJC has never been the same since. I met her when I went to work at the AJC downtown in 1983, and despite the age difference--she was literally old enough to be my grandmother, we became fast friends. We both loved covering crime stories, which we'd both done earlier in our careers. We loved antiques, and gardens, and cooking, and writing. When I decided to try to write a novel, 'Tine cheered me on. When my son Andy was born, she wrote a column about racing back from her second home on Dog Island, and stopping along the way to buy him a baby gift--a pair of Blue Willow cups and saucers. She knew I collected Blue Willow, and, as she wrote in that column, she wanted him to have those as a gift from her--to him and his future wife. I still have that clipping, pressed into Andrew's baby book. When I'd only written five chapters of EVERY CROOKED NANNY, 'Tine hand-carried it to her longtime editor at HarperCollins, and pestered Larry until he read--and eventually bought and published it. When NANNY came out, she wrote another column telling the world what a good book it was. My career as a novelist was officially launched. I have that column too. When the old downtown Rich's Department Store closed, shortly before I left the paper, she took me and another friend to the Magnolia Tea Room, which was another Atlanta institution, for one last lunch. Or rather, I ended up taking her. As so often happened, when 'Tine opened her billfold to pay, she was flat broke. She'd probably handed her last five dollar bill to one of the bag ladies who regularly visited her in her office at the paper, or to a wino, who waylaid her on her way to the office from the Five Points MARTA station. It didn't matter. The old-timey staff in the Magnolia Room recognized her as soon as we arrived. At the time, the store had a baby grand piano in the restaurant, and the pianist came over, introduced himself as a fan, and asked what she'd like to hear. Show tunes, 'Tine said, so that's what we listened to with our chicken potpie and iced tea. Show tunes. Rich's is gone now. They bulldozed the old building years ago, and a couple years ago, the corporate suits at Macy's decided to do away with the Rich's brand altogether. Celestine, as I mentioned, passed away in the summer of 1999. This past year, the AJC, in all its wisdom, downsized and forced most of its veteran reporters into retirement. Time marches on, right? And I still have that cardboard box of bylines and memories. So maybe I won't let go just now.

In the middle of the night I heard a strange noise--rain! We've had a terrible drought in Georgia. Every day we hear how low the water level at Lake Lanier has dropped. But rain was forecast yesterday, and in the middle of the night it finally came. Not for long. Not enough. But rain--blessed rain. So I'm thankful. This morning I turned on the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Watching it while getting all the food ready for the big dinner was always a tradition in our family. My mom would be taking the pies out of the oven--and watching the Kilgore Rangerettes from Texas prance down Broadway. And she'd INSIST--"I can do that." Picture an arthritic grandma demonstrating her high kicks--wearing her polyester pants and flip-flops.
And every year, no matter where we were, my sister would call, and announce "turn on the television. You won't believe the hideous outfits the majorettes from Wisconsin (or wherever) are wearing. So I turned on the parade this morning--and sure enough, some poor unfortunate drill team girls from some band were dressed in GRAY one-piece jumpsuit things with white and puce green slashes--which made them look like prancing elephants. And I thought about Susie--and how she'd have been on the phone like a shot, to make sure I hadn't missed them. So I'm thankful for all the years of parades. And pies. I'm thankful that my new kitchen is bright and easy to work in. I'm thankful for the old mister--who is my partner in everything. Last night we went to neighbors for their annual oyster and shrimp feast, and he made his amazing crabcakes. I made the remoulade sauce. This morning, he made the brine for our turkey--while I read him the recipe from Martha Stewart's website. We'll cook our turkey tomorrow, because we're going to neighbors for dinner--and I still need my own turkey for leftovers. I'm in charge of mashed potatoes. They're all peeled and ready to cook. When they're done, I'll pop them in my crockpot to take over to our friend's house. That way I won't take up valuable oven space over there. The scalloped corn casserole is mixed up and ready to bake. Last night I made a new recipe--cranberry salsa, which will be served with blue corn chips. I've talked to Katie twice this morning. In addition to going to finishing up school at Arizona State, she's working for the athletic association, and they have a huge football game today against USC, which will be on ESPN. So Andy flew out to Phoenix, they had their dinner last night, and they'll all go to the big game, which Katie has to work, and they'll tailgate. I'm thankful that our children love each other, and love to spend time together. I'm thankful Katie found a wonderful husband like Mark, whose family has totally embraced her. I'm thankful for Wyatt, who is lounging on the kitchen floor, hoping that somebody will drop something edible on the floor. I'm thankful to be back home again in Avondale, with neighbors who pop in the back door to ask to borrow poultry seasoning, and I'm thankful for dear friends who have become our own extended family.. I'm thankful for good health. I'm thankful that the Lord gave me a talent for writing, and that I get to do this thing I love--writing. And I'm thankful for my readers--all of them everywhere, who allow me to make a living doing what I love. So. Thank you dear readers. In fact, as we say in the South--Bless your heart!

Did I mention our house is going to be on our neighborhood Christmas tour of homes?
Oh joy. Oh dread. Oh damn.
And why did I agree to this insanity? Because, dear reader, I need a deadline. The tour chairman called me way back in March, to ask if we would put the house on tour.
And as I put it to Mr. Mary Kay--"well, that will give us a deadline to get all those nagging little projects done." And in a not-so-rare moment of insanity, we agreed.
So I drew up this long laundry list of projects, and we've been working towards completion. And now the tour is less than a month away, and I'm starting to get those middle-of-the-night anxiety dreams. Many of you have asked about the kitchen project. It's very near completion. Bob the Builder has sworn on his skillsaw that he'll have the awesome new cupboard done shortly before or after Thanksgiving. Other than that, it really looks great. The downstairs bathroom has swell new black and cream wallpaper, a chalky blue ceiling that exactly matches the funky 1940s blue tile, the old black and gold tole chandelier I had in the downstairs powder room in raleigh, and some spiffy antique french sconces. Also new crown moulding. The master bath has an elegant new creamy marble vanity top and a new tile backsplash. The big new mirrored medicine cabinet is wall-mounted, altho not complete. The tortoise-shell bamboo shades are up in my office. But, as with any extended project,little things keep happening. Like--the fabric for the armchairs in the living room turned out to be back-ordered and not due in til December. So we switched fabrics. And THAT
stuff was ten days late arriving here, so my upholsterer is in a swivet. And then some fabric for the living and dining room drapes came in-and was deeply, nastily flawed. And, of course, there is no more of this red and cream check to be had in the Western Hemisphere. So we had to run out and pick out some other, not nearly as cool red and cream check. And Bob the Builder put in the backsplash upstairs, but we are exactly one and a half pieces of tile short. So that had to be ordered from California. Due here Monday. And the sweet bamboo shades I ordered for my office? Turns out 2 of the windows are 2 inches bigger than the other windows, so I had to order two more shades. Which they swear will be here before Thanksgiving. And then I didn't buy enuf lampshades for the chandleliers (yes, chandeliers plural. My design philosphy is more is better)so now I have to schlep over to Lamp Arts, which is on the dreaded traffic-snarled Howell Mill Road to buy 2 more shades. I'd been calling my interior designer for a couple days, and he hadn't returned my calls. And then, this morning when I called, I got the recording that says the number's been disconnected. And yes, I nearly lost it. I'd mentally composed the message I planned to scatch into the paint on his car: I'M OFF MY MEDS, I HAVE ACCESS TO FIREARMS AND I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE. Fortunately, this was not necessary. Turns out he'd called last night while I was at a book-signing. He has not moved and changed his phone number. He is on top of everything. Which is good. Because, did I mention that I have access to firearms? And oh yes, the link to the tour of homes thingy, should you want to come over and laugh yourself silly at my decor--which could be described as eclectic excess meets five-and-dime festivity. Avondale Tour of Homes

It was great getting out for a week and meeting readers and seeing the booksellers who have become old friends after 15 books, but nothing beats the feeling of sleeping in your own bed! My Low Country book tour was lots of fun. After my signing at SEASIDE SISTERS on Tybee Island last Saturday, I moved into downtown Savannah. The gals who work at E. Shaver's Booksellers always make me feel welcome. In fact, it's usually my first stop when I drive down from Atlanta--if for no other reason than to use their bathroom. I always end up buying books they're recommending. Last time around I bought a gorgeous cookbook written by local caterer Susan Mason. Called SUSAN MASON'S SILVER SERVICEit's full of great Southern recipes and beautiful photographs. I'm a sucker for home decorating books, so I also bought Bunny Williams's AN AFFAIR WITH A HOUSE. Our little bungalow will never look like this famous New York decorator's country home, but that's fine with me. This week Esther Shaver's girls recommended a new biography of Alice Roosevelt Longworth. Called ALICE: Alice Roosevelt Longworth, from White House Princess to Washington Power Broker. So far it's fascinating reading. Tuesday I made the hour drive to Beaufort, S.C. for a signing at Bay Street Trading Company. If you've never visited Beaufort, you simply must go. Bay Street Trading is a bookstore that concentrates on old-time service. You can sit in a rocking chair out front and page through a book before buying. And you never know who'll be dropping by the store while you're there. Pat Conroy and his author wife Cassandra King live on nearby Fripp Island, so last time I was there, I ran into Sandra who was stocking up on books before a trip.This time around, my friends Nancy Pate and her cousin Meg Herndon--two-thirds of the mystery-writing team Caroline Cousins, met me for lunch. My other favorite shop in Beaufort is right across the street. It's called simply M and is full of stylish antiques and gifts. I bought a great necklace for my friend Shay's Christmas gift. Then it was back across the bridge for another signing that night, at Books-A-Million. Before leaving Savannah on Wednesday, I made time to stop at
@Home Vintage General. Liz Demos's combination antique shop and gift store in a beautiful old high-ceilinged storefront on Broughton Street is just my favorite shop ever. I bought a vintage step-stool to reach the upper shelves of my new kitchen cabinets, and the sweetest vintage-style Christmas apron. Liz suggested her favorite junking spots in Brunswick, which was my next book-signing spot, so off I went to Gloucester Street. I swept through Downtown Antiques and Victorian Place, but ran out of time before I got to Piddler's, which is right across the street. I got some great art for Maisy's Daisy, and managed to pick up some stuff for moi . Like a vintage mercury glass vase that almost matches one I already own--for the low, low price of $12, and a Jadeite batter bowl (ok, there's a chip on the spout--who cares?) for $18. I spent so much time junking I had to speed over the bridge to St. Simon's Island for my last signing at G.J. Ford's Books. Owner Mary Jane at Ford's is such a wonderful person, signing at her store is like stopping by an old girlfriend's house for a Diet Coke and some gossip. She even had chocolate-covered cream puffs and Christmas cookies for the event! I left behind autographed copies of BLUE CHRISTMASat every bookstore, so go now and buy 'em up!

Wow! Saturday's Holiday Open House at Seaside Sister's Coastal Cottage was awesome. My friend Polly Stramm did a piece about me and the shop in the Saturday Savannah Morning News, and apparantely some people read it, because we sold out of 50 copies of BLUE CHRISTMAS in about 40 minutes. I met lots of cool people, and from what I hear, we also sold some of my junk, er, priceless antiques. The only downside to the day was that I was so busy I didn't really get a chance to junk. OK, I did hit one estate sale in my old neighborhood, Ardsley Park, but I could only stay about 15 minutes. I got a rattan trash basket for three bucks. I missed out on a really great rattan set--including a sofa, settee and an unusual rattan dining room table. Damn. But since my rental is just a puny little Mazda, I couldn't really have picked it up anyway. But still. I hate it when other people beat me to the good stuff. My husband and son came down for the weekend too, and spent a gorgeous cool, sunny Saturday fishing. They came home with a couple trout. If you've never been to the Georgia coast in the fall, you're missing a beautiful time of year. We stayed in one of the most adorable MERMAID COTTAGES. This one was called FlipFlop, and it was so cute we hated to check out. Had a great screened porch to sit and sip at the end of the day, and a fenced yard for Wyatt. We had two great dinners too, the Bamboo Room on Friday night, where the guys had grouper and mahi mahi, and on Saturday night, we ate at Sundae Cafe, which is just about my favorite restaurant on Tybee.
Yesterday morning we had a meeting to nail down some more details about my

SAVANNAH BREEZE GIRLFRIEND WEEKEND

. I think it's going to be so much fun. Y'all come!

Whew! Our neighborhood seemed like kid central last night during trick or treat. I had to make two emergency candy runs--and we still ran out of candy at 8:30--which is 30 minutes before official curfew in our town. Even though we turned the lights off, kids were still banging on our doors hoping for more loot. My favorite costume was the teenager who wore a rubber pig mask, a bloody butcher's apron and carried a giant plastic meat cleaver. Tomorrow I leave for five days of signings in the low country--Savannah, Mt. Pleasant and Beaufort S.C. and St. Simon's Island. Please come and keep me company if you're in the vicinity.
Also, Saturday, I'll be at Seaside Sisters on Tybee Island, where I have my antique booth, signing books from 1-3 p.m. during our Holiday Open House. Y'all come see me. I've been doing some xtreme junking to get new stock for the booth--hit six estate sales last Saturday, which might be a new record.
Also, if you have access to ATLANTA MAGAZINE, check out the November issue. I have an essay about the cake plate my sister Susie and I found at an abandoned house, along with the recipe for my lemon cream cheese poundcake. This is the same cake I bake dozens of every December to send to all the New York folks who make my books possible.