Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like a Skank

by Celia Rivenbark

  What? What’d I say?

  That’s me, though, a frequent traveler on life’s low roads. When I gave my sweet husband a T-shirt for Christmas that Said I LIKE MY WOMEN LIKE MY COFFEE, GROUND UP AND IN THE FREEZER, he looked, well, frightened.

  If I’m ever going to get that house on the Battery, y’all are going to have to step up and buy a bunch of these books. Hey, I’m not asking for me; think of the grandchildren.

  It’s not like success would ruin me, hons. I would still be the same bitchy chick with a heart as big as a slop jar that y’all have been kind enough to put up with through three—count ‘em, three—collections of Southern strangeness.

  I’m not going to be one of those eccentric Southerners who lets a little success go to her head. Never! And rumors that I once showed up for a book signing and demanded a dressing room stocked with 12 cases of Diet Mountain Dew, 60 cans of squeeze cheese, and 118 boxes of Waverly Wafers are just hateful lies!

  With fame should come an entourage, and I positively can’t wait for mine! True story: One time I saw Martin Lawrence in person. He was making a movie on my street and he had a huge entourage, including a muscular man whose only duty was to answer Martin’s cell and gently hold it to his ear and two women who allowed him to rest his noggin on their huge chests in between takes like they were a collection of Koosh pillows.

  Okay, never mind the entourage. I don’t need a bunch of hangers-on tending to my every need. Just one will do, as long as his name is Mr. Matthew McConaughey.

  That’s it. You can thwump now. Peace out.

  Acknowledgments

  This book wouldn’t exist without two people who continue to have faith in the funny: Jenny Bent, my incomparable agent, and Jennifer Enderlin, my brilliant editor. Their wisdom and support sustain and nurture me, and I thank them from the bottom of my heart.

  I’m indebted to the entire team at St. Martin’s Press, including John Karle, my adorable publicist and an excellent listener; talented designer Sarah Delson; Kim Cardascia, who answers all my silly questions; media escorts Pat Speltz (who introduced me to Memphis ribs, the best food on God’s earth), “Kentucky” Barb Ellis (who sniffed out the Talbots outlet for me and I’ve got the eight-dollar sandals to prove it!), Michelle Dunn, and Lenore Markowitz; and the hard-working, dedicated sales and distribution staff. Bless you all.

  Special thanks to Mark Kohut, who introduced me to the spectacular folks at Ingram in Nashville, Tennessee. I’ve never had a better audience!

  Over the years, so many booksellers have offered encouragement, advice, and, best of all, a nice, tall stack of books right beside the cash register. I’m especially grateful for the enthusiastic support of Nicki Leone of Bristol Books in Wilmington, North Carolina, who has helped me in more ways than I can list and who reminds me that anything’s funny as long as you can insert the word monkey somewhere. She’s right, of course. Because of Nicki, I am tinkering with the idea for my first novel, The Da Vinci Monkey.

  I’m deeply grateful for the support of booksellers Cathy Stanley of Two Sisters Bookery as well as Deborah Goodman and the staff of Barnes & Noble in Wilmington, North Carolina, whose awesome wall-of-books display was so amazing, it made me cry.

  Other booksellers who have gone above and beyond to promote my work include Nancy Olson and Renee Martin at Quail Ridge Books & Music in Raleigh; Lynn Payne, B & N, Charlotte; Larry Tyler, B & N, Myrtle Beach; Deon Grainger, Waldenbooks, Myrtle Beach; Kathy Patrick, Beauty & the Book, Jefferson, Texas; Katherine Whitfield, Davis-Kidd, Memphis; and Jamie Kornegay and all the fabulous folks at Square Books and Thacker Mountain Radio in beautiful Oxford, Mississippi.

  Special thanks also to Wanda Jewell, executive director of the Southeast Booksellers Association, and the many members of SEBA who hand-sold my books to sunburned tourists from Virginia to Florida saying, “This is what we’re about in the South.”

  I am deeply indebted to my newspaper, TV, and radio friends especially Colin Burch and the late Mike Morgan at the Myrtle Beach Sun-News; Amber Nimocks, Jeff Hidek, Amanda Kingsbury, Ben Steelman, and Allen Parsons at the Wilmington Morning Star; Robie Scott at the Charleston (SC) Post & Courier; Carolyn Gibson of WYPL FM, Memphis; and Betty Ann Sanders and Diane Stokes, TV hostesses extraordinaire.

  Hugs and MoonPies to generous and talented authors Lee Smith, Jill McCorkle, Laurie Notaro, Haven Kimmel, and Hay wood Smith, who have been kind enough to support me in front of God and everybody.

  Keeping me nourished, body and soul, are my wonderful friends Lawton and Mabel Halterman, who share the bounty of their garden, including the best new potatoes and butter-beans on earth, and Lawrence Shadrach and his daughter, Bess, who keep me in gardenia bouquets every June. Their daylily garden next door is a vision I savor all summer long.

  Thanks also to the delightful Ronda Rich for so graciously sharing her knowledge of the speakers’ circuit with a rookie who still feels like throwing up right before.

  For making me laugh, or making me think, this year, I give thanks to an assortment of friends, new and old, including Tim Russell, Courtney Grannan, Kara Chiles, Debbi Pratt, Susan Reinhardt, P. D. Midgett, Laura Mitchell, Vance Williams, and Bill Atkinson.

  And, finally, especially and most of all, I’m grateful to my wonderful husband, Scott Whisnant, who would be perfect even if he didn’t think that Angelina Jolie with her big ol’ futon lips is overrated, and to our precious daughter, Sophie, who is smarter, funnier, and kinder than I and who is patiently teaching me how to swim and raise crickets. I love you big.