Janis Owens

I seem to have left people hanging about Mama’s condition after her hip break last week. I am happy to report that she is as spry as any 83-year-old with a broken hip can be, all things considered. She’ll be in a rehab center for a couple of weeks, tops, and likes afternoon PT, which is lower body, but finds upper body PT – a series of basic movements, like folding afghans and putting little clothespins in holes – an insult to her intelligence. She finally rebelled yesterday and neither the therapists nor daddy could talk her into folding anymore afghans. I told daddy not to worry – her hard-headedness was a sign that she was returning to normal. She is also not fond of the food, which daddy admits, “Ain’t the best eating food on earth.”

I wanted to capture a little more of the magic of Girlfriend’s Weekend in Jefferson, and post a few pictures of the madness. Here is a shot of me at the Barbie Ball, dressed as the Alpha Bitch Barbie – a title that came to me spontaneously as I watched the other authors identify themselves. I told them I’d be a judge the next night at the Wizard of Oz Ball and if they didn’t vote for me, I wouldn’t forget. Behind me is the Queen herself, Kathy Patrick, dressed as Tippy Hedrin, the woman who gets her eyes pecked out in The Birds (note birds on hat.) Kathy is maybe the kindest, most gracious woman I’ve ever met. She was Methodist of the Year in Texas last year and you know the competition for that kind of thing is stiff.

 

 

If you’re wondering if we partied all the time, the answer is no, we did have moments of reflection and talked books. My panel was with fellow cracker Lauretta Hammon, author of The Cracker Queen, a hilarious memoir of growing up Cracker. She is a Georgia Cracker, and I wasted no time squashing her hubris by out-crackering her. She tried to play the po card on me but nobody can out out-po this Cracker. To really nail it, I brought up daddy’s fingers and of course, she threw in the towel. Faulkner himself couldn’t beat daddy’s old fangers. 

 

 

  

Next to Lauretta is Mary Kay Andrews, best-seller and sister southerner. She allowed me and Lauretta great leeway in hogging the panel with our Cracker Alpha battle. She also suggested a really brilliant excuse when I bowed out of an afternoon session and went back to my room to eat cookies and take a nap (“Tell them you get migraines and can feel one coming on – need to take a pill and lay down before it gets worse.”) I really shouldn’t share it so shamelessly, as I’m sure I will have opportunity to use it again. Just off the top of my head, here is list of other writer friends who were there (and I apologize in advance for everyone I forget): Ad Hudler, Kathryn Casey, Shelly Rushing Tomlison, Jenny Gardiner; Kerry Madden, whose latest release is Up Close: Harper Lee; River Jordan, a humble West Floridian by birth, who is now a big shot in Nashville – or so her mother tells people in Vernon :), Patti Henry Callahan, Jamie Ford (great new book: On the Corner of Bitter and Sweet.) Also, Hester Bass, author of The Secret World of Walter Anderson. Hester serenaded the Queens on two occasions – no rehearsal, just took the mike and made up a song and sang to them. I call that a versatile author.  Last but not least, Robert Leleux, who has a memoir about growing up with a Mama as - um, what is the word? Let’s say, as challenging and inspiring, as mine. The book is Memoir of a Beautiful Boy and is the best and brightest thing I’ve read in a month of Sundays. It really carried me through a trying week; made me laugh aloud and quote so much of it to Wendel that he said he didn’t have to read it; I’d given it all way. The part about Robert’s unhappy interlude as the glazer at a ham restaurant is nothing short of genius. (Note: me and Robert & Lauretta will be at the Savannah Book Festival February 5-6. If you’re over our way, come and see us.)

My pal Pat Conroy was also there, dazzling the Queens and raising my relative value as a supper companion a few notches since I was a member of The Entourage, along with his daughter Melissa, artist and author of Poppy’s Pants. Pat held up well under the undimmed adulation of an entire Texas town. We went to Kathy’s bookstore, Beauty and the Book, on Saturday afternoon, and were supposed to take PR shots, but he got distracted by the books, and these are about as good as the pictures got. I look just like Mama in picture below. I think the expression could be described as Smug and Braggy (”Look who I’m friends with!”) You might recall the original meaning of Cracker was: big-talker; braggart. Here is photo evidence that the fruit hasn’t fallen far from the tree. 

 

 

But what the hey: it was fun to part of the Entourage. Pat was there to give out the Doug Marlette Award, which went to the saint of American lit, Mary Gay Shipley, of Blytheville Arkansas. Mary Gay is of Katie B stature in my book, which is about as high a compliment as I can give a woman. She and her friend Liz Smith – another Arkansas gal – stayed with us at hte same B&B, The House of Seasons. Our hosts, Richard and Shirley, were so gracious (fresh fruit every morning, gourmet breakfasts; baked goods by my bedside at night) that I didn’t want to leave. Here is my ultimate Texas hospitality story: when we were leaving for airport Sunday morning I realized I only  had a few bucks to leave the maid as a tip. Since I was traveling with writers, no one had so much as a spare nickle to borrow. Richard heard me asking and - I swear - he had Shirley run inside and bring me out a twenty dollar bill. I refused (and managed to pull together decent tip) but the gesture is typical of Jefferson. Everybody running around pressing sawbucks on you. Believe me when I say that in the writing world, the river usually flows in the opposite direction. If you live in Texas and happen upon Richard on the street, shake his hand and congratulate him on being a hell of an ambassador for the great Republic. My darling Lils is half Texan and is going out to visit the Lone Star state for the first time in April. I’ve been telling her what glories she in for: cowboys! Ponies! People running around handing out twenties! She is understandably excited.   

The Queens managed to fit two parties and a formal supper into three days. A few of us author cooks took over the kitchen of the Excelsior Hotel, and for supper we had CocaCola ham, Asian salad, corn cassarole, crawfish gumbo (courtesy of Lynn Fredrickson, author of Specialties of the House), and blonde chili (by Debbie Thorton, from Any Blonde Can Cook.) For dessert, Debbie made a chocolate cake, and Queen Kay Brookshire & daughter (great mother-daughter cooking team) made a modest little dish called (brace yourselves) Krispy Kream Bread Pudding with Rum Sauce. Here it is, slightly tweaked (I added pecans, not raisins) but basically intact. It is the real thang - as Daddy would say, good eating food.

Krispy Kreme Bread Pudding with Rum Sauce

 

1 dozen Krispy Kreme Doughnuts

1 large can sweetened condensed milk

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp salt

2 eggs, beaten

1 cup chopped pecans

 

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Spray non-stick spray on 9 x 13 inch pan.

3. Cube donuts in large bowl.

4. Mix condensed milk, cinnamon, salt and eggs.

5. Pour over doughnuts and toss, then let sit for five or ten minutes.

6. Place in prepared pan and top with rum sauce, then sprinkle with chopped pecans.

7. Bake for 30 minutes.

 

Rum Topping

 

 ¼ cup rum (or if you’re Baptist, 1 tablespoon rum flavoring)

1/4 butter, melted

2 cups powdered sugar

 

1. In a small bowl, beat all ingredients till smooth.

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Tags: cracker, Girlfriend Weekend, Girlfriends Weekend, Kathy Patrick, Mary Kay Shipley, Pat Conroy, Pulpwood Queens