It was that classic moment in “The Shining,” when Jack Nicholson peered through the cracked-open door, combined with every scary babysitter movie ever — I had just put almost-15-month-old grandson, Capt. Adorable, in his crib for the night and gone out to my daughter and son-in-law’s den to watch TV when I heard a door creaking … and there was nobody around who should be opening an door. Yikes! Find out what happened at my weekly newspaper column for the TimesDaily, http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20090626/ARTICLES/906265007. (Hints: Capt. Adorable has been walking since he was less than 10 months old — and he was not happy to be left alone in his crib without his mom or dad around that night.)
Fashion
What do Stevie Nicks, Scarlett O’Hara and Della Street have in
common? Besides being awesomely fabulous females, of course. Give up? They were my fashion icons when I was growing up — well, Scarlett’s Southern Victorian diva and Della’s sexy smart secretary were, and then Stevie’s flowy boho hippie came along when I was old enough to make my own style mistakes buy my own clothes. Today, I’d like to think I’m sort of a combination of all three, with some Michelle Obama thrown in.
(But maybe I’m flattering myself — that’s what I’d like to look like, at least!) I wrote more about how TV, movies and music influence what we wear in my quarterly fashion column for the TimesDaily’s Shoals Woman magazine, in Florence, Alabama, at http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20090624/SW/906239986/1085. On a day when two fashion inspirations have left us — Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson — I’m thinking about how much influence entertainers have over the way we want to see ourselves. And remembering one gold-star day in college when my wings turned out perfectly — my hair has never looked as good as it did that day more than 30 years ago when Farrah gazed back at me from the tiny dorm-room mirror. Sigh.
Food

Before you buy or order seafood again, go to http://www.montereybayaquarium.org/ and click on Seafood Watch for a list of the latest ocean-friendly choices. It's organized by region and you can print out a handy pocket guide -- and enjoy your purchase with a clear conscience.
Shopping
There’s not a World Market in our little Alabama town, so everytime my husband and I are on the road and pass one, we have to stop and go in. The thing about World Markets is that there’s plenty for both of us to happily browse through. First, we both head to the food section in the back, where my husband gets tickled by the huge nostalgic candy inventory and I investigate the gourmet junk food — are we healthy or what? We linger in the beer aisle and I check out the coffees and teas while he surfs the fiery southwestern choices. After that, my husband eyes the furniture and I ooh and ahh over accessories such as pillows, curtains and candleholders. In truth, his attention starts to wander while I’m still dragging him over to check out this rug or that coffee maker but he’s a good sport and tries to stay focused long enough to veto the paisley-print sheets and the orange batik lampshade. My fantasy is to walk into World Market, tell the clerks, “I’ll take two of everything,” and then live in global bliss ever after. And I’m absolutely sure my dear husband feels the same way.
Marriage
When my husband John Pitts — who is a super writer and the best editor I know — and I recently celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary, I wrote about it in my weekly newspaper column and asked my husband to talk about the five things he’s learned in five years of marriage. He did, it got great response and I was tickled that I had tricked my husband into writing my column for me my husband so kindly wrote my column for me that week. However, most people noticed that he,in fact, had written it and so wondered why I was so lazy and where my five things were. So here they are: http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20090619/ARTICLES/906195000
But, seriously, the main thing I’ve learned in five years of marriage is something I couldn’t quite articulate in my column without seeming to be critical of my first husband, which I’ve vowed never to do in (newspaper) print. What is that lesson? It’s something I struggled with for years: Saying exactly what I mean and trusting that it’s going to be OK. In my first marriage, I picked up the bad habit of being passive-aggressive. You know, playing the “I’m-upset-but-I’m-not-going-to-tell-you-because-if-you-loved-me-enough-you’d-figure-it-out” game that only leads to disaster. That is not the basis for a healthy relationship, and to get over doing that means you have to rely on trust and faith and respect — which I have in overflowing abundance with my husband John Pitts. Who, by the way, is an awesome stepfather, too. Am I lucky or what?
Children
Art
You got a surprise present in your mailbox this month (no — your carrier isn’t leaving you chocolate-chip cookies again): The cover of the June Anthropologie catalog features an original work from Hatch Show Print, in Nashville, Tenn., and it’s a beauty. Hatch Show Print, on Broadway in downtown Nashville, is the oldest working poster print shop in the country. It began in 1879 and became known for its wood-carved letterpress work for country music, jazz and blues performances — and its iconic balance of layout, typeface, color and Southern culture. The best part is that you can wander into the shop and see posters still being made the same way. I’ve always thought Anthropologie’s catalogues were whimsical combinations of style and design and I was tickled to see one of my favorite Nashville spots featured here. Actually, my parents first told me about Hatch Show Print — because they’re cool like that. Our hometown of Manchester, Tenn., is near Nashville, and Hatch Show Print is one of my parents’ usual stops when they head downtown. They took me along one day and am I glad they did. If you’re headed to Nashville this summer, you owe it to yourself to schedule a visit to Hatch Show Print — chock full of presses and prints and posters and typefaces and wood blocks, it’s unlike any other place you’ve ever seen. Check out Anthropologie at http://www.anthropologie.com and Hatch Show Print at http://www.anthropologie.comhttp://www.countrymusichalloffame.com/site/experience-hatch-today.aspx
Travel

This is why people say they’d like to live in a hotel (any by “people,” I mean “me”) — soft lighting, lush furnishings, hushed voices and nary a speck of dust or piece of cat hair anywhere. Sigh. Dear Husband and I were at the Embassy Suites in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, this past week for a couple nights and I just wanted to take it home with me. The whole thing. I mean, who doesn’t love a bathroom with perfectly stacked thick white towels and a countertop free of spilled makeup and yesterday’s coffee cups? There’s something so simple and elegant and inviting about a bathroom you didn’t clean yourself.
TV
Listen, girlfriend, I know we cannot get enough of you lately, but, seriously, you are taking up way too prime celebrity space and I would like you to stop it. Please? Like, immediately? I cannot pick up any gossip magazine without you being on it and frankly it’s starting to bug me. I mean, I’m spending good money because I want to read about Jennifer’s attempts to get Brad back or Angelina’s attempts to get Brad back or how Elizabeth Banks really is not very nice or how Sandra Bullock really is. I don’t want to read about you. And let’s be clear: I’m not being critical of you. In fact, I’m sort of envious. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be a famous multi-millionaire with nannies, bodyguards and Emeril as a personal chef? Sign me up, and I’ll take the hair stylist, personal trainer and free tummy tuck, too. I do not begrudge you fame and fortune. I say good for you. It shows initiative and determination on your part and really, if I’d known having eight children was a key to success I’d have rethought stopping at two. The thing is, however, you are not a celebrity. You are just a regular person who yells at her husband and yells at her kids and makes bad choices. You are, sad to say, just like us. We don’t want our celebrities to be just like us. Oh, it’s true we want our celebrities to pretend they’re just like us. We want to see them buying toliet paper at Costco and slurping down frapps at Starbucks and playing with their kids at the park, but we know and they know and they know we know that they aren’t like us at all. You, however, are just like us but you don’t know it. You are — and I say this with all due respect — sort of boring. We don’t care about your free trips and your free vacations and the TV “stars” who keep popping up in your driveway to install solar panels or take you on motorcycle rides. It’s just … oh, I don’t know … uninteresting. And this whole marriage breakup thing? Please! I can get five women together at a moment’s notice who have marriage-breakup stories that would curl … uh, straighten … your hair. I’m sorry you have problems, but put your big-girl panties on and deal with it. In private, please. I look forward to the day when — just like the rest of us — the only connection you have to gossip magazines is picking one up at the grocery and reading it in the express lane while the person in front of you has 37 items and doesn’t know how to use the debit-card machine. Thank you.
Food
The Zagat Survey is here! The Zagat Survey is here!
Sorry — couldn’t resist channeling Steve Martin there. But seriously, anybody who eats out needs to take a look at the just-released Zagat Fast-Food Survey at http://www.zagat.com/fastfood. More than 6,000 folks rated their fast-food experiences, including full-service restaurants, and the results are fascinating. But before you go check it out, see if you can identify the eateries pictured above. On the left is the winner of the full-service best salad, best coffee and best value — it also came in second for most popular. On the right is the winner of the fast-food salad and is the most popular large chain. I don’t have any prizes to give out — you’ll just have the satisfaction of knowing your restaurants perhaps better than your kitchen. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

