Jamie Farrell's Blog, page 27

Jamie’s Top Ten Moments of 2013

It’s been a year, and everyone is making their lists.

So far, we have…

The 28 Funniest Notes Written By Kids in 2013

The 30 Greatest Animal Photobombs of 2013

The Top Google Searches of 2013

The Best Upworthy Moments (Not necessarily of 2013, but nonetheless awesome)

The Top Pinterest Pins of 2013

While we’re looking back on 2013, I thought I’d share my top ten favorite moments. Hope you enjoy, and if you share your top 2013 moments, let me know. I’d love to link to yours!

10. I got to explain to my father-in-law what “the girls” are. (Yep, those girls.)

9. My latent super power finally revealed itself.

8. I learned that Redman is a brand of chewing tobacco. Which made the lyrics to Eric Church’s “Love Your Love The Most” make a lot more sense.

(Just listen. You’ll hear it. And you’ll be glad you know Redman is a brand of chewing tobacco too.)

And while we’re talking about country music – my boys learned the lyrics to Miranda Lambert’s “Mama’s Broken Heart.”

(Picture two boys, ages five and two, yelling that at the top of their lungs and dancing. You’re welcome.)

7. I did not cut my finger off

6. My underwear almost broke my washing machine.

5. Our family successfully survived our first military move with three children, despite 2.5 weeks without a functioning kitchen or laundry facilities. Oh, and our dryer broke in the move. But it’s okay. Because we bought a new one from a guy named Bubba.

4. I lost 65 pounds. (Yay Weight Watchers! (And giving birth.))

At the beach, New Year’s Day 2013

US Marines Birthday Ball, November 2013

 

3. Sweet potato pie changed my life. (Which will hopefully not undo what Weight Watchers has done for me.)

2. I sent The Husband Games to my critique partners and betas! (Next is final content edits, then line edits, then copy edits, then proofreading… and then it’s all yours! And look for the cover and official blurb coming very, very soon!)

1. After eleven years of writing, six “real” jobs, five moves, four manuscripts, three kids, and two cats, I released my first published book.  (It’s Southern Fried Blues. Just in case you weren’t sure.)

So, there you have it. My top ten moments of 2013. I can’t wait to see what 2014 brings!

How about you? How was your year?

A Christmas Road Trip Story

You know that post I did right before Thanksgiving where I interviewed CJ Blue, hero of The Husband Games, and he mentioned having eleven sisters? Well, i have a confession to make.

His big family was inspired by my mom’s big family. I don’t have quite eleven aunts, but I do have more than two uncles.

Big families are fun. So many personalities, so many stories, so much mischief. And last weekend, my mom’s family’s annual holiday party was scheduled in Illinois, so while the hubby took off for his own family obligation (which is sometimes just the way it goes when you’re a military family), my mom flew down to Alabama to help the kids and me drive home for the party.

There were some signs all would not go as planned, but we like to make the most of what we’re given.

On our first travel day, Squeaker, the two-year-old, got sick in the car well after dark somewhere around the Kentucky-Tennessee border. Lessons learned: Don’t feed a two-year-old pancakes for dinner (especially if said two-year-old is prone to taking advantage of your distraction with feeding yourself and your other children to slam back an extra bottle of syrup) and always keep a Magna Doodle at your children’s feet. (I have praised the miraculous Magna Doodle for saving my car’s carpet every day for over a week now.)

On our second travel day, Grandma and I introduced the kids to the joys of singing Feliz Navidad in the car at the top of our lungs with the windows rolled down. The boys giggled, Buttercup headbanged, and Grandma and I went hoarse.

It was awesome. And then we got to my parents’ house, and all was lovely, because we were out of the car and Buttercup had eight cordless phones and one answering machine within reach and the boys knew where the Nerf guns were stored, and all was right in the world.

Despite a poor weather forecast for the next day, we were ever optimistic, so after we got the kids to bed, my mom, sister, and I rolled a couple hundred little smokies in bacon.* And made a lot of weenie jokes. And then made a few more weenie jokes. Because we’re mature like that. And also because when you’re contributing bacon-wrapped weenies for a crowd of 75 weenie-lovers, you have to roll a couple hundred weenies, and let’s face it, there’s nowhere to go but to weenie jokes at that point. (Heh. I said weenie-lovers.)

Saturday morning, after a fitful night of sleep for all of us that involved Munchkin sitting up in the middle of the night (we were sharing a room), looking at me, and saying, “That’s a hawk. See, Mommy? That’s a big hawk,” and then laying down and going back to sleep, we checked the weather. Initially everything looked almost promising. We held our breath, but ultimately the party was called off. (Which–for the record–has never happened before.) Too much ice on the roads around the state for everyone to travel, which meant a quiet day of baking cookies and taking cordless phones away from Buttercup and eating hundreds of bacon-wrapped weenies, topped off with a prime rib dinner with my grandparents, who live just around the corner and who were quite relieved to not be going out in the weather.

That’s right.

My mother pulled off a prime rib dinner (at my grandparents’ house, no less) with six hours’ notice and without even having to go to the grocery store. It’s like she’s super woman. I made a joke on Facebook last week about out-mothering my mother by countering Squeaker’s vacuum cleaner-inspired temper tantrum with a comment about some kids not even having vacuum cleaners, but the truth is, my mom’s hard to out-mother. (She even made the Christmas cookies that my kids left out for Santa after we got home Tuesday night.)

The next day was Sunday, and Sunday afternoon my other sister brought her family over and we had a massive eating-and-unwrapping party. There was lots of shrieking, lots of laughter, and I officially became the Best Aunt In The World by giving my nieces Lalaloopsy dolls.

But before that, there was The Dinner Incident.

All the information you need to know going into this story can be summed up in one unfortunate sentence: My parents’ dog died this past summer.

He was a funny dog with a unique set of issues, and he lived a good, long, happy life. He’s missed, as my mother astutely observed during dinner while my children (and also possibly I) were throwing food on the ground.

“You know,” Mom said, eyeing the carnage on the floor, “I sometimes miss my automatic vacuum cleaner.”

My baby sister, who still lives at home, perked up. “We could get another one.” Because she loves animals and she wants them all.

My mother, who’s entering the stage of her life where she greatly enjoys her freedom and isn’t keen on more parental-type responsibility who’s still heartbroken over the loss of the dog, deadpanned, “I’d rather get a Roomba.”

And because we were raised around all of her brothers and sisters, the remainder of dinner was spent teasing my mother about her vicious guard Roomba that would scare away intruders and give her grandchildren rabies. And when she unwrapped her Roomba two hours later (which, honest to goodness, she didn’t know my dad had gotten her, though the rest of us did), she promised to get it microchipped. And taken in for its shots. Really. I have video evidence. But I suspect she won’t make me any more prime rib dinners (complete with Yorkshire pudding!) if I post it, so you’ll just have to trust me.

Also? On Sunday my other grandma brought her famous strawberry cake. And I might just post a pic and a recipe one day soon.

Monday the kids and I started the drive home, picking up the hubby at an airport along the way, and we made it home around noon on Christmas Eve with no further unfortunate incidents, though probably with a few more stories best not told in public. (I think one might involve the hubby and I getting slap-happy late Monday night in the car and discussing mermaids laying eggs, but like I said, probably best that I don’t tell those in public.)

All in all, despite the grand party of the year being cancelled, we had a great trip. We don’t often see family for Christmas (part military life, part choice so that our kids have Christmas memories of their own at home as well as the occasional road trip), so when we’re able to get together, it’s always fun.

Hope you had a wonderful, story-filled Christmas too!

*Bacon-wrapped little smokies marinated overnight in brown sugar then baked at 350 for an hour is my mom’s signature dish at family gatherings. She got the recipe from my mother-in-law back when the hubby and I were engaged, and ever since, she’s brought it to her family’s annual holiday party. Once she suggested she make something different, and her brothers and sisters threatened to either renew the rumors that she was adopted, or steal her clothes out of the bathroom while she’s showering the next time she takes a trip with her sisters. Or maybe both. Or maybe something worse. I can’t recall all the details, but she’s never mentioned not bringing the bacon-wrapped weenies again.

Merry Christmas!

May your holiday be filled with love, laughter, and happiness!

Getting in the Holiday Spirit

I’m recovering from a huge family party today, so I’ll leave you with one of my favorite fun Christmas songs.

Merry Christmas!

A Conversation That Will Change Your Life

Munchkin is at that special age where he’s beginning to understand that grown-ups have discussions that are over his head, but he wants to understand, which led to this conversation the other day:

Munchkin: “Mommy, how does something change your life?”

Me, kinda gaping at him: “Uhhh…”

Munchkin: “Like you said that sweet potato pie changed your life?”

Me, now looking like a deer in the headlights because it’s not even 7 AM yet: “Uhhh…”

The Hubby: “Munchkin, a person says something changes their life when they’re introduced to something new that is so good, like the sweet potato pie, that they want to have it again and again.”

Me, breathing a sigh of relief that Hubby can take this one: “Mm-hmm.”

The Hubby: “And it doesn’t even have to be food that changes your life. It can be a vacation, or someone you meet–”

Me, finally breaking out of my stupor: “Yeah! Like getting married. Getting married changes your life. So does having kids.”

Munchkin: “So when I grow up and find a pretty girl to marry–”

Hubby: “Wait, wait, wait. Being pretty has nothing to do with getting married–”

Me: “Ah–”

Hubby: “Not that your mother isn’t pretty–you know what? I don’t want to have this discussion anymore.”

I didn’t ask, but I’m guessing he bailed because continuing that conversation could’ve changed his life.

A Yankee Girl’s Guide To Sweet Potato Pie

It’s not too early to start talking about pies for Christmas, is it?

No?

Good.

Because I can’t wait to make this pie again.

It’s not too weird to admit I made the pie because it just happens to be the favorite pie of Jackson Davis, hero of Southern Fried Blues, either, right?

Never mind. Don’t answer that.

Because that’s not the point. The point is, this pie is amazing. Everyone should try sweet potato pie. It’s good for dessert, it’s good for breakfast, it’s good as a side dish.

It’s just good. It’s like a Yankee girl’s green eggs and ham. Once you try it, you’ll totally eat it anywhere.

And because I’m in a holiday mood today, I’m even going to give you the recipe I used, which is adapted from the one that Wendy S. Marcus found for me on Granny’s Favorites Cookbooks Facebook page when I mentioned on Facebook that Pinterest had crashed two days before Thanksgiving and I was therefore missing the sweet potato pie recipe that I wanted to try out. (Side note: Wendy has this great holiday short story called The Group Seduction out now. You should totally give it a read!)

And now for the pie that I can’t stop dreaming about:

1 9-inch, unbaked pie crust

2 cups baked and peeled sweet potatoes

¼ cup melted butter

2 large eggs

1 can (14 oz.) sweetened condensed milk

1 tsp. vanilla

Zest of one orange (About 1 ½ teaspoons will do, but you can use more if you want to. The orange zest is the secret ingredient.)

1 tsp. cinnamon

1 tsp. nutmeg

¼ tsp. salt

Preheat oven to 350. Prepare pie crust.

Using a hand mixer, beat the sweet potatoes and melted butter until they’re smooth. Add remaining ingredients and beat some more. Pour into pie crust.

Bake 30-45 minutes or until golden brown.

Cool before serving. Goes great with fresh whipped cream

Honest to goodness, I thank my lucky stars that Jackson Davis decided this pie was his favorite. Because I never would’ve tried it otherwise, and I can honestly say my life has been enriched by it.

But more on that Friday.

In the meantime, tell me–have you ever tried a new recipe because it was mentioned in a book?

p.s. Speaking of Pinterest… Kelsey Browning and Nancy Naigle and I have an awesome contest up on Pinterest right now! You could win a Kindle for Christmas! Click on the picture to enter, then check out our fun Southern Fried Pinterest board!

Southern Fried Blues Bonus Deleted Scene – Anna Registers for College

Holy cow, you guys! I’m so excited to have so many new friends hanging out with us! We’re celebrating today with another Southern Fried Blues deleted scene. Y’all ready for this one?

(Don’t worry if you haven’t read the book – no spoilers in here! And if you haven’t read the book, it’s available at all these lovely places: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks | Smashwords )

So about this deleted scene – waaaaaayyyy back in an early draft of Southern Fried Blues, I gave Anna a rusty college degree instead of giving her an incomplete college degree, then had her registering for classes to “freshen up”  and work on a masters degree. This deleted scene is an alternate version of how she met Kaci and one of the other wives who only has a quick cameo in the final version.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The road to the James Robert College campus loomed ahead on the right. Anna flipped on her blinker, checked her mirrors, slowed the car, then turned. Blossoming pear trees lined the drive. A couple men in green overalls, surrounded by pots of petunias and cornflowers, were working in the flowerbeds.

She’d met Neil in front of a tulip bed near the Armory on the University of Minnesota campus. He’d proposed there two years later.

If she enrolled in classes at James Robert, she most definitely wouldn’t be adding another M-R-S to her curriculum. She might’ve celebrated her first graduation with a wedding as well, but she’d learned her lesson.

She rounded a curve and the admissions building came into view. The grand Colonial reeked of old southern money and pretentious academics. The school wouldn’t have even registered as an option ten years ago when Anna enrolled in college the first time. Too expensive, too far from home. Now, it was a fresh start with no military affiliations. Not even an ROTC detachment. Exactly what she needed.

So long as RMC paid the bill.

She parked on fresh asphalt behind the building and followed the signs around the curving, flower-lined sidewalk to the side entrance. By the time she climbed the marble steps, her stomach was doing flip-flops and her hands were shaking.

What if she wasn’t smart enough to get in?

What if she took all the refresher courses and still couldn’t pass the Fundamentals of Engineering exam?

What if she had to go home as the first divorced Jensen in the history of the Jensens, a complete failure as an engineer, unable to take care of something as simple as giving herself a home and putting food on the table?

What if Neil suddenly realized he couldn’t live without her and came back to beg her to quit and have babies?

The door towered over her. She gave the handle a tentative tug. It swung open with nary a squeak or groan.

Neil was history. Anna was her own future now. She’d failed enough for one lifetime. She was going to do this, and she was going to do it right.

The polished marble floor bore the school emblem beneath a skylight in the grand atrium. A bunch of kids who barely looked old enough to be out of grade school, much less on college campuses, milled about the room. Their voices floated about until the tapestries on the wall absorbed the noise. Anna squared her shoulders and headed for the giant mahogany desk situated between two curving staircases.

All this southern grandiose was starting to make Anna feel like a country hick.

The receptionist wore too little make-up and had hair too flat for her to be a local, but the vivacious blonde leaning over the desk had an accent that rivaled Dolly Parton’s. So long as she didn’t burst into song, Anna was okay with that. Heads together, the two women were studying something and squealing. As Anna approached, the object in question came into view. Her stomach lurched.

Somebody loved the blonde a heck of a lot if that diamond was anything to go by.

Anna blinked against the increasingly familiar sting in her eyes. It might not be her turn to be loved, but that didn’t mean her life had to stop. Willpower propelled her the last few steps to the desk. She cleared her throat. “Excuse me, please, I’d like to enroll.”

Still grinning, the receptionist turned to greet Anna. “Of course. Welcome to—Oh, dear.”

She darted a glance at the blonde and stood up. The blonde clucked her tongue, but before she could say anything, the receptionist’s smile came back and she extended her hand. “I’m Sarah. Welcome to James Robert College. Which degree program are you interested in?”

Anna took the woman’s hand and shook it, but the blond leaned into her space with an eye roll at Sarah. “Sugar, she don’t need—”

Sarah cleared her throat. “And have you downloaded our admissions packet?”

The blond leaned back and crossed her arms. Little rainbows exploded about the room when her ring landed in the sunbeam coming through the skylight.

Anna tried to smile back at Sarah, but all the happiness puking out of the blond’s ring was interfering with her tenuous grasp of her spontaneity. “Chemical engineering.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the paperwork she’d completed at the receptionist desk this morning after a more thorough perusal of RMC’s tuition assistance plan, and then re-reading Neil’s email about their D-word. “I actually have a degree. I just need a few classes to catch back up.”

“What you need—” the blond started, but Sarah cleared her throat again.

“Well, we’re delighted to have you here,” she said smoothly as she accepted Anna’s paperwork.

The blond’s foot tapped. She sent Sarah a meaningful look that Anna didn’t want to interpret.

Sarah’s pleasant smile remained. “Do you have your old transcripts?”

“Not yet.”

“You ain’t from around here, are you, sugar?” The blond said.

“I’m not either,” Sarah said. “Where’s your degree from?”

Anna’s gaze wavered between the two women. “Minnesota.”

“Military bring you here?” the blond asked.

She sucked a big breath in through her nose. “Nah, I always wanted to be underemployed in a place that doesn’t recognize ketchup as its own food group.”

The blond’s brow wrinkled. But Sarah laughed, and Anna’s shoulders suddenly relaxed.

“It’s a northern thing,” Sarah said to the blond. She winked at Anna and pointed to herself. “South Dakota.”

“Damn Yankees,” the blond said cheerfully. “Sarah, you keep this girl outta ol’ grandpappy’s class, you hear?”

Sarah inclined her head toward the door. “Office hours?”

“Well, tarnation. Always ruining my fun, you are.” The blond slung a suede messenger bag over her shoulder and turned her baby blues on Anna. “I’m Kaci. Y’all ever get bored, you come on over to the physics department and look me up. Got some stuff you’ll appreciate one of these days.” With an unrepentant grin aimed at Sarah, Kaci turned to sashay away. “Toodles, y’all.”

Three-quarters of the male teenagers in the room stopped to gawk at her as she went.

Sarah gave Anna a wry smile. “Takes all kinds to make the college go ‘round.”

“Her grandfather works in the chemical engineering department?”

Sarah’s face contorted and a weird sound came out of her mouth. “It’s… complicated.” The wrinkles in her forehead faded, though the crows feet at the edges of her eyes remained. She was older than Anna had first thought, whereas Kaci made that ring look like a dress-up accessory.

“So,” Sarah said, “let’s get you put in the system. As long as your transcripts are ordered, I can get you hooked up with an advisor, and you might be able to start classes when summer semester begins next week. Sound good?”

It sounded complicated.

And exactly what she needed.

* * *

I still have one more great deleted scene with Anna and Jackson together, and Jackson’s working on a special post inspired by a question a fan asked on Facebook a while back, but I’ve been so busy getting The Husband Games ready for critiques and content edits that I haven’t had time to sit down with him. He keeps nagging, though, so don’t worry.

Plus I just might have a new cover to show y’all sometime soon…

Stick around! More fun’s coming!

The Post Where Mamie Interviews The Grannies

Special surprise today! Jackson’s grandma, Mamie, plays a big role in Southern Fried Blues , and today she’s scored a visitor pass at the prison to see Lillian Summer Fairview with her friends from In For A Penny .  So I’m just going to step on back so y’all can listen in. Keep your hands to yourself and stay quiet—we don’t want to attract the guards’ attention. I might not have gotten enough visitor passes for all of us.

(Mamie gives the worn carpet in the visiting room a suspicious glance, then pulls out a chair and sits at the table with the others.)

Mamie: Lord-a-mercy, Lillian, we’re gonna get us started right off with you and your story. Your Harlan got you rolling down a big ol’ hill of trouble, what with that mess he left you in when he up and died. Give it to us straight, sugarplum. If you could go back and do it all over again, would you still marry him?

Miss Lillian

Lillian: Mamie, dear, it’s such a delight to have a new visitor. Maggie mentioned you wanted to stop by, so I was sure to add you to my visitor list. My girls try to visit as often as possible, but the upkeep of Summer Haven comes first, so I discourage them from making the trip more than once every other week.

(She sighs and leans back in the hard plastic federal prison camp chair.) My Harlan. Now that’s a question chockfull of potholes.  Harlan was a good man, but…can I be honest here?

Mamie: Of course. We’re all friends here.

Lillian: But he was a bit weak. Daddy saw it right off. Tried to warn me that my suitor didn’t have the Summer family backbone. Well, I ask you who does? No one, that’s who. Oh, Harlan. (She smiles, the secret smile of a woman looking at a piece of chocolate she knows will ruin her diet) He was more handsome than Rock Hudson. But he was much sweeter on girls than Rock, of course. And young girls, well, we’re fools for a handsome, smooth-talking man.

And yes, even dead, he’s landed me in a hot mess. But his mistakes have also brought some wonderful new friends into my life. And in all likelihood, a new career to boot. (She winks)

Mamie: Oh, honey, the skills you must be learning for that new career! But I’ll bet working won’t be the first thing on your mind when you head for home. When you finally get out of the big house, what’s the first thing you’re fixin’ to do? Hair, nails, makeup? I’m bettin’ you’re gonna be lookin’ for all the buffin’ you can get, bless your heart.

Lillian: Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a decent salon visit and some excellent hand crème. That being said, my friend Martha (nods toward a younger woman with dark straight hair sitting at another visiting table) keeps me trimmed up and has a girl who’s good with nails. I’m surviving.

Mamie: You’re an inspiration to us all, honey. (She turns to her fellow visitors) Maggie, hon, y’all used to run a hardware store. You got any good house-fixin’ tips for us single ladies of a certain age?

Maggie: You bet I do. Two of them actually. Number one, if you’ve got something like tree-trimming to do? You find yourself a strong, young man—now I know what you’re thinking, but I am not one of those cougars—like our Teague Castro. You promise him a little special ice tea. Then you let him climb up on the roof and take care of it for you. Number two, never leave home without a roll of duct tape. (She wrestles around in the pocket of her khakis) In fact, I’ve got an extra roll for you right here. (Plops it onto the table) You just never know when you might have an emergency. (Her grin spreads across her full cheeks) Or might need to restrain a bad guy.

Mamie: I got a new granddaughter-in-law who knows her way around some duct tape, but she ain’t had the right cup of sweet tea just yet, and we’re looking to show the girl what she’s missing. Don’t reckon I can sweet talk you into that recipe for your special tea?

Miss Maggie

Maggie: Now, Mamie, you seem like a nice sort. But my special tea recipe? Well, it wouldn’t be so special if I just shared it willy-nilly. But if you’d like to come on out to Summer Haven sometime, I’ll serve up a nice cold pitcher right there on the front veranda.

Mamie: Miss Maggie, you are Southern hospitality at it’s finest. Don’t think I won’t take you up on that offer, now. Might even bring my granddaughter-in-law along with me. (She shifts to look at another of their friends in the visiting room.) Now, Sera, talk to me about this yoga and healthy eating and chakra business. If a respectable Southern lady’s looking to improve her bowling score, you got any special moves she might could try?

Sera: Hmm… (stands and circles Mamie’s chair) The triceps muscle is critical in the concentric motion. Several others in the isometric contraction, extension, and hyperextension. Not to mention the rectus femoris in the leg. For that, I would say the Bridge pose and the Boat pose. They both stretch and strengthen your quadriceps. If you’d like, I’d be happy to work up a bowler’s series of poses for you.

Mamie: That would be right nice of you. And I’m wondering, too—what’s an old gal have to do to get a ride in that van of yours?

Sera: (laughs) Oh, not much. Maggie complains that it stinks of what she calls Mary Jane. It’s true I’ve been known to relax with some purely medicinal marijuana on occasion. And if you like pumpkin seed and anise granola, I’ll happily have Maggie move out of the shotgun seat to make room for you.

Mamie: Sounds like a good excuse for some research. (She smiles at the last member of the group.) Abby Ruth, what’s your favorite sports team?

Abby Ruth: (Leans back in her chair and gives Mamie the once-over) Is this a trick question?

Mamie: No, I’m genuinely curious. We have such big football rivalries over yonder in Alabama, we don’t hear much about any other teams. Especially after that last Iron Bowl. (She fans herself.) Hoo-boy, that was a game.

Abby Ruth: If I tell you the Texans, then the Cowpokes’ll be pouting all over the Metroplex. If I say the Cowboys, the Texans—which is a stupid name for a football team. I mean, of course they’re Texans—will likely wade out into the Gulf and drown themselves. Men. You can’t live without ’em, and it’s illegal to shoot ’em.

Mamie: And ain’t that a shame? Speaking of men, tell me the truth, sugar. You ever use one of your pieces to impress a man, or are you on the single-to-my-dyin’-day plan?

Abby Ruth: Now, Mamie, I like you. I really do. You seem to be a spunky sort and I admire a woman who goes after what she wants. That having been said…Sugar is my word. I call you sugar, but you don’t call me sugar. You got that, sugar?

Mamie: Oh, my word, honey. I reckon you might could use a cup of Maggie’s special tea. Back when I was going through the change, a nip of tea helped my constitution right good. But I promise not to call you sugar, sugarplum.

Abby Ruth: Now that we have that settled…I have known a few men in my life. The ones who get scared off when they see my gun collection? Well, that tells me pretty much everything I need to know about them. None of those men were Texans. I’m pretty sure the last one who skedaddled was from Illinois. As far as getting hitched? I don’t know one man who could keep up with me for the long haul.

Mamie: Oh, sug—ah, honey-pie, those are famous last words right there. (She gives them each a broad smile in turn.) Ladies, it has been a pleasure spending visiting hours with all y’all. I do hope we can do this again sometime, and next time you’re ‘round abouts my way down in Alabama, y’all just give a holler. We’ll bake up some biscuits and have us a real good time.

Okay, everybody be real quiet and follow Mamie and the girls out. That inmate over there was looking at us funny, so we’d best skedaddle. Hopefully we’ll get to tag along again the next time Mamie comes up for a visit.

P.S. In For A Penny is the bonus book in my monthly Southern Fried Blues giveaway! Click on the picture, or enter below!

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A Yankee Girl’s Guide to Southern Cornbread

Corn bread is one of those things I never gave much thought to. You buy the Jiffy mix, follow the directions on the box, and poof! Cornbread.

Then I moved to the south. And I listened to more country music. And I realized I was quite possibly missing something.

Something important.

And its name was cornbread. (But you already caught on to that, didn’t you?)

You get the decorative squares by putting pats of butter on top.
I meant to do that.
Really.

Then, a couple months back, I met a lovely woman named Justin through a giveaway I ran for Southern Fried Blues. Justin mentioned she’d kept a blog, and so I went over and started perusing, and ta-daaa!! There it was – her Nana’s recipe for perfect Southern cornbread.

It was a sign.

And who am I to ignore signs?

So when the hubby came home from work a few weeks ago with news that we’d been invited to a chili cook-off, I opted out of the chili part and took the cornbread. And it truly was the best cornbread I’ve ever made. Tall, moist, with perfect edges. (I think the “secret ingredient” is preheating the cast iron skillet.)

So if you want to feel Southern on a cold winter day, hop over to Roots and Renovations and check it out!

A Little Something To Put You In The Holiday Spirit

I’m working my fingers to the bone on The Husband Games, so here’s a (mostly) fun Christmas prank video to enjoy.

p.s. I’m seeing another Southern Fried Blues deleted scene in our near future here…

p.p.s. Still lots of great giveaways going on right now, with lots of chances to win a signed copy of Southern Fried Blues!

The Southern Magic RWA Christmas giveaway is going through this weekend.

Jaime at For The Love of Books is celebrating 2,000 likes on Facebook with a great giveaway too!

My monthly contest (with both Southern Fried Blues and Kelsey Browning and Nancy Naigle’s In For A Penny) is still open.

And even though the Southern Fried Blues day has come and gone at Carly Phillips’s and Erika Wilde’s 12 Days of Christmas celebration on Facebook, there are still a couple days of other giveaways left, including your chance to win an iPad mini and a $100 gift card!

Lots of great stuff this week! Happy Monday!

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