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My initial exposure to the sport of pickleball came in two flavors. Shelley started playing it indoors at a local health club and I would hear golfers tell self-deprecating jokes about it when their game soured. After a string of bad holes, “I should quit golf and take up Pickleball.” As Shelley continued to play and enjoy the game, my divergent views began to coalesce much more on the positive side. I joined her indoor Pickleball group a couple of times (when schedule or circumstances prevented me from joining my regular game of hoops), and despite the very confusing rules and scoring system I began to embrace it. At first, I recognized that it was a very challenging mix of strategy, hand-eye coordination, and even a hint of athleticism. I watched and learned from players who clearly demonstrated that any one of those facets can be used to great success. Pickleball then became another opportunity to let my competitive side shine through as I strove to improve my game. Vicariously through Shelley at first, and then directly, I also discovered the next great thing about Pickleball: it is an incredibly social sport. Shelley started playing in a few groups at our golf club, and quickly found both a new set of friends and the fact that it is an even better game played outdoors. A nod to its popularity and social draw, Ansley Golf Club added a third dedicated Pickleball court last year to its racket-sports facility. And to put those courts to good use, the club regularly hosts both league play (shout out to Shelley and her team for winning the inaugural league season!) and mixers. Last night, we played in our 3 rd mixer---this one with an 80’s theme, hence the headbands and neon in the photos. They just get more and more fun, and I now realize that I am not such a reluctant Pickleballer after all.

Hi Everyone: What have you been up to as a family lately? Do you ever find it challenging to come up with activities that entertain and benefit everyone? Things that appeal to different generations while alleviating moans, groans and mucho moola? I have a suggestion for you: Pickleball! But [beware], there's a warning: Pickleball May Cause Dinking Addiction. (Definition of dink: The dink is a finesse shot, hit with an upward trajectory, that lands just over the net in your opponent's No Volley Zone.) The thing is, once you down that first dink it can be hard to stop. You’ll want to keep dinking and dinking and dinking. Before you know it you’ll be thinking about who to dink with next. You’ll find yourself settling for almost anyone who dinks. Complete strangers become acceptable dink partners with zero shame -- especially if you score with them. You’ll want to meet up again and again just for more scoring. Facetiousness aside, pickleball is far from frivolous. Pickleball is fun, athletic, energizing, competitive and, yes, addicting. According to The Sports & Fitness Industry Association (SFIA), pickleball is the fastest growing sport in the United States for the second year in a row. Pickleball grew just shy of 40% over the past two years (www.usapickleball.org). Who knew? I, Shelley Sweeney, have a dinking problem. Saying no when asked to dink is a work in progress for me. Pickleball started out as a low-key, fun activity that I picked up at a nearby gym. The ease of camaraderie and social interaction on the court attracted me most. But after discovering pickleball’s unique set of rules and aerobic offering I began taking it more seriously, incorporating it into my exercise routine. In other words, I became addicted to dinking. Eventually, I moved from playing indoors to playing [and competing] outdoors at a golf club. Indoor and outdoor pickleball are quite different and though I’d prefer not to be in the sun, outdoor play is more fun (IMHO). A golf club provides a more competitive environment which means watching what one eats, resting, and adding additional work-outs (pilates, Barre3, hot yoga, walking, whatever you choose) becomes prudent. Oh, the things pickleball fanatics do to keep a plastic, yellow, wiffle ball inside boundaries (30x60ft.) and just so high in the air to avoid the slam: Run Jump Twist Squint Huff, puff Shuffle Aim and, yes, Fall to the ground…all in the name of a point Have you heard of the five Blue Zones? They’re five places in the world where people live the longest and healthiest lives: Okinawa, Japan; Sardinia, Italy; Costa Rica; Ikaria, Greece; and Loma Linda, California. Five key things that these places attribute their longevity results to are: Family Social Interaction Activity Rest Diet If family, social interaction and activity make up a majority of things that lead to a long healthy life, pickleball has you covered. Here’s a great article on the Blue Zones that talks about Blue Zone advantages relating to pickleball. The fact that there is a sport whereby men and women spanning several generations (say, age 12 - 90) can enjoy together is incredible. And the cost of playing is minimal on public courts and in various gyms. Yes, it’s relatively easy to learn and compete in pickleball but I will say that rest and diet are imperative to supporting your body should you find yourself in a dinking addiction predicament, like myself. Live Longer, Live Healthy: Play Pickleball! Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley Here are fellow family member pickleball blogs:

Hi Triangleparkers, It's been a while since I last put fingers to keyboard for a blog. But when I heard the fam would be blogging about pickleball, I simply couldn't say no. Last Sunday, my parents, Diana, Elijah, Joey and I all met up bright and early at 9 a.m. to play 3 - yes 3 - hours of pickleball. We all had varying level of experiences. To paint a picture, I will rank us all 1-5, with 5 being pros. Diana (2): A former tennis pro, but zero pickleball experience or knowledge of the game. Also very little free time to read up on the rules as her job as a summer associate keeps her very busy. Elijah (4): A natural athlete, with little pickleball experience. Joe (4): Also a natural athlete, plays tennis regularly, with 20 or so games of pickleball under his belt. Me (2): While I could probably out-cardio all five of them, I am not competitive nor do I have much of a strategic mind while playing sports. I just feel lucky to get it over the net. I also have the experience of about 20 games, but I regularly forget the rules. Shelley (5): Has played multiple times per week for over 3 years. Also won a club-wide competition. Enough said. #queen Jeff (5): Also has played multiple times per week for years. Also a natural athlete. So, as you can imagine the games were a bit mismatched. Let's just say Diana and I were always put on opposite teams. However, by the end of the 3 hours, we both had made some great shots and gotten our hang at playing. I care less about winning and losing, and more about the time spent together, soaking up some sun, staying off our phones and enjoying a mutual activity.

Hi Friends, I hope you all are doing well, living life to the fullest in spite of gradually descending until once again ascending…toward eternal life ever after… Supporting, tending to, being on call for, entertaining, loving, and most of all appreciating one’s mother in her 90s is a delicate dance to choreograph. Having immediate family around to help orchestrate is a blessing like no other. My family's unselfish, ready-and-willing help is valued beyond measure. Sometimes I wonder who the blessing of [my] family falls on more: me or mom? When I hugged mom this past weekend and during the last few visits she felt frail and boney. She seemed to cherish the hug. “Touchy-feely” has not been an adjective I’ve used to describe mom, ever. But these days when I arrive I find her leaning in for affection, human touch. This action is quite foreign for me yet appears a new normal for her. “The 90s Is a Time of Decline” is not exactly headline news? However, those words are quite frankly a new and sensational headline for me, personally. I’m experiencing new auras, times to be cherished with mom in her 90s. Whereas, a new baby has precious fleeting energies and actions that quickly dissipate yet mature, an elder (my experience) produces precious, current energies that remain and expand, albeit wither. Allow me to plug Barbara Karnes, RN, who I’ve mentioned in previous blogs. Ms. Karnes is an end of life educator who is immensely helpful in explaining the natural process of dying. She speaks in a soft, tender voice that will touch and reach anyone seeking to understand the process of death. I know, I know! Mom is not dying. I’m not saying she is. But, actually, guess what: she IS dying. So am I for that matter. And so is the entire rest of the living, breathing world. Diana’s boyfriend, Elijah visited ATL last weekend. It’s always a pleasure to have Eli at our home. He and Diana (also Savanna and my son-in-law, Joe!!) are always up for a visiting and/or helping Gam out. These four young people are way beyond their years with respect and admiration for elderly people. Okay, I’m going off on another topic. But still… Elijah and Diana cleaned Kroger's shelves of Deer Park water last weekend. They loaded 16 gallon jugs into my car, unloaded it and hauled it into mom’s house before lining all 18 containers (she already had 2) neatly up against the wall in her laundry room. Thank you Sweeney and Garde family, and Eli for choreographing and dancing with me not only this past weekend but always! (Note to self: Find out if Deer Park will deliver) The 90s are tender times y’all. If you’re on a similar journey I encourage you to check out podcasts by Barbara Karnes, RN. God Bless you my friends. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley So, I do indeed have a life outside of the elder-tend (Amen, Amen and Amen). We enjoyed a Sunday morning of pickleball-madness this past weekend. Fun in the sun sums it up!!!!!! P.S. I hope relavent ads interest you!!!! Versus annoy you...

You’ve probably heard that the queen of England is quite a sportswoman? The firearm she takes aim with on the cover of this article suggests at least curiosity. The title “Queen Elizabeth II: A Badass Hunter?" nearly tells a story, regardless of the question mark. My late father would have gotten on famously with Queen Elizabeth. Dad loved a good deer hunt: wake up in the wee hours, find a quiet place to burrow, wait, aim, fire, kill, drag, skin, chop, freeze, thaw, cook. Most of you know the drill. Queen D (my queen :) didn't fancy deer hunting. Mom's part in pop's hunting hobby was preparing the kill, ensuring it met adequate expectations of deliciousness. Speaking of deer, queen D often talks about deer hanging out around her home. She tells stories of deer with babies napping outside her kitchen window, lone does that come and go, and once early in the morning she spotted a small herd in the center of her front lawn. --Now, that wouldn't have been a very exciting hunt for dad!-- Jeff and I wined and dined our queen mother [again] this past weekend. We chose a favorite Italian restaurant (the one I've talked about a million times before) that happens to be close to her home, Carbonara Trattoria. (As we were leaving the restaurant, a tall, friendly, handsome man approached us happy to see queen D. It was her doctor of many years. I’ve accompanied mom to many doctor appointments and had never met or seen her doctor...often wondering if one really existed.) Guess who stopped by during our usual digitgal photo shoot? One of mom's friendly, neighborhood deer circled the house, staring at us, rather nonchalantly. Almost as though she was perturbed: excuse me, this is my turf, queen D belongs to me. I earnestly wanted to feed a carrot, celery stick or canned corn to the sweet doe. Queen D wasn’t on board for wildlife charity whatsoever, at least that night she wasn't. Mom is definitely not a deer-killer enthusiast or "badass hunter" like the real Queen. Nor is she one to enable wildlife. In fact, she’s never been an enabler of anything. Keep smiling, loving, and praying, my friends. Reaping what we sow is so, so true. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley A man reaps what he sows. The one who sows to please his sinful nature, from that nature will reap destruction; the one who sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up - Galatians 6:7-9

Queen Diane is doing quite well. I know this because my youngest and I visited the Queen last weekend. We found Queen Diane spunky, spry and sporting just the right amount of cynic. (I guess if one makes it to 92-years-old it’s okay to let your inner, cooped-up cynic out for a chat or two.) We enjoyed snapping a few pics and a marvelous mexican meal out on the town with her...well, around the corner from her house. Mom continues to live in her spacious home. She continues to do all of her grocery shopping, meal prep and day to day chores. She keeps up with the predictable grind pretty well. She doesn't appear fatigued or wiped out from basic maintenance. --I must say, the mere thought of planning and preparing three meals, every single day fatigues me. Mom's meals aren’t complicated (hard-boiled eggs, oatmeal, toast, tuna, baked chicken, basic meatloaf, spaghetti, etc.) or exotic as I prefer but, somehow the simplicity of her routine leaves me with an odd inept feeling. Can you imagine what it will be like when your passions are confronted by old age? When you must know [when when is when] and if you can’t figure it out someone will decide for you? Have you heard of Deer Park water? The gallon jug kind that doesn’t have a handle on it? Mom is obsessed with Deer Park water. She has been schlepping gallons upon gallons into her house for decades. Deer Park water is the only water she’ll drink in her home. She hauls Deer Park from the shelves of Kroger, to her car, to her pantry...all by herself. Because Deer Park doesn’t have a handle by which to carry the darn thing, doing so is especially awkward. Frail mom is forced to cradle a gallon of water in front of her body, squeezing chest muscles together while her back hunches over the container, distorting proper posture all together. Sad. Not good. But you can’t tell her…anything… Whenever Jeff and I have offered help she says: no, no, no. A couple weeks ago, Jeff and I shopped for Deer Park on her behalf in spite of her not wanting us to. The time has come! "When" is now. We betrayed her insistence and lugged ten Deer Park water jugs from Kroger to her pantry. The Queen’s 92-year-old, frail body got a break. No, it wasn’t easy. I find the shape of Deer Park awkward. No way would I haul that or any gallon jug of water into my house week after week. …And I’m in pretty good shape, mind you. When we finished lining up the ten jugs in her utility room she said, “It feels just like Christmas!” On that note, we’ll be making plenty more days like Christmas, for the Queen. ”When” is now…at least for water hauling. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

​​​​Hi Everyone, How is your summer going thus far? Weddings, graduations, students home for the summer, travel picking up? All the above has geared up for Triangle Park ATL! …And, Diana just finished her 1L year at the University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana (UIUC). She’s working at Alston & Bird (Atlanta) as a summer associate (a blessing indeed). Most of my readers know that Diana is in law school at the University of Illinois. Her whole family is thrilled where she landed. But…Several of y’all have asked Jeff, me, and D: Why the University of Illinois Law School? Do you even have a connection to Illinois? Why would she want to practice around Chicago? Here's the Scoop: Diana’s aim is to be a patent attorney. UIUC has good patent programs, a good ranking, they offered a nice scholarship and the location allowed D to get away from Georgia for a taste of down-to-earth midwestern culture. Yes. As a matter of fact we do have Illinois roots and even if we didn’t, after being covid-couped up and surviving "The Institute” (not to mention Georgia Tech is a mere two miles from her childhood home), we were thrilled Diana could escape to new territory. -- My grandfather graduated from the University of Chicago Medical School and my grandmother received a nursing degree from Wesley Memorial Hospital in Chicago, now called Northwestern Memorial Hospital. Below is a photo of a 1942 Aurora, Illinois newspaper article featuring my great-great grandmother who shared President Lincoln’s birthday (February 12 -- Illinois is "the Land of Lincoln"). She spoke with him when she was a young girl. Tryphena Ward-Keasler is buried in Aurora, Illinois and to this day her descendants reside in the region. Also, Jeff spent a good portion of his childhood outside Chicago, in Downers Grove. No, as a matter of fact, Diana does not want to practice law in or around Chicago when she graduates, nor does she have to. She began interning at Alston & Bird while attending Georgia Tech and per above she’s currently working there. If D doesn’t flunk out of UIUC law school (she just received a CALI Award* and is top 10% of her class), the hope is that Alston & Bird will hire her FT upon receiving a J.D. and passing the bar. *In case you’re curious what a CALI Award is (and don’t feel like googling it): The CALI Excellence for the Future Award®, often shortened to “The CALI Award” or referred to as “I CALI'd a Class”, is given to the student who receives the highest award in a law school course. Awards are given at the discretion of the faculty and in rare cases two awards can be given for the same course. (www.cali.org) (Diana was first in her Constitutional Law class (70+ students). All that cozy snow in central Illinois provided ample study incentive.) May I interject…Savanna was also a stellar student -- full Zell Miller scholarship throughout college and interning for Governor Nathan Deal where she took a private helicopter ride with Governor Deal, departing from the front lawn of the Governor’s Mansion destined for Forsyth, Georgia where he delivered a speech Savanna wrote at a state trooper graduation ceremony, among other accolades… The plan was to insert a joke about people who brag about their kids at this junction of the blog. I don’t want to come across as too “braggy.” Proud maybe, but not braggy. Anyway, I found mostly jokes about men bragging about sons and a few about moms bragging about sons. Nothing on moms being proud or bragging about daughters. Come on moms, shout out about daughters! Nobody seems to mind if you do…and even if they do… Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

I've lived in the south my entire life, but until recently had only been to Charleston twice. Each of those times involved short trips with itineraries out of my control. I never truly explored the city. Friends and family would say "Charleston is amazing." "I want to move to Charleston." "The food is to die for." "You have to take your next trip in Charleston." But I honestly didn't understand the hype or have a desire to go. Traveling for me has always meant leaving the south. Fast forward to 2021, and my BFF deciding to move to CHS. Of course, Joe and I booked a trip to visit her within months. And I am so glad we did! Charleston could not be more charming, and I'm so thankful we had the chance to leisurely explore the city with a "local." Enjoy the below list of some of our favorite places! Already looking forward to our next trip. Brown's Court Bakery: This outdoor coffee counter is tucked in a cute alleyway. We ordered cortados and muffins each morning. The muffins were baked into the cutest mini loafs - I recommend the morning glory. Xiao Bao Biscuit: A stone's throw from our airbnb, we ended up having lunch here by accident, after discovering our intended restaurant was closed. I recommend the house made ginger drinks and the Japanese pancake. Pictured: The Japanese pancake with cotton-candy pork. Mex1: Delicious Mexican restaurant on Sullivan's Island! Try the street corn queso dip. Sugar Bakeshop: The cupcakes are scrumptious and the patio is the cutest thing I have ever seen. I could have sat here for hours! Pictured: Chocolate and grapefruit cupcakes. Airbnb: We loved our Airbnb. It was an affordable carriage house walking distance to many great restaurants. Pictured: Kombucha purchased at a convenience store about 200 feet from our room (also pictured). I know my parents are considering a home on Amelia Island, but my vote is for CHS.

Hi Everyone: I hope y’all are doing great!? What are you up to these days? Exploring new destinations? Lately, when we’re not rescuing horses, Jeff and I are exploring Amelia Island, Florida as a possible retirement-home target. (No! We’re not selling McKinley Road. Ever. Maybe we will though:) Getting up to speed on aspects related to Amelia has become an adventure from a part-time resident’s perspective, potentially. If you live in the south you’re more than likely familiar with Amelia Island? But, if you live(d) in the northwest United States…say…Oregon, where I grew up, perhaps you have no idea where Amelia Island is? I had no idea Amelia Island existed when I returned to Georgia 40 years ago. Do you know that Amelia Island has existed under eight flags? Or, that any U.S. territory has existed under more than a couple flags for that matter? I didn't. If you happen to be well-versed on Amelia, then you know that the following flags have graced her, over 450 years time: French - 1562 - 1565 Spanish - 1565 - 1763 British - 1763 - 1783 Spanish - 1783 - 1821 (with 3 interruptions) Green Cross of Florida - (date not provided) Mexican Rebel Flag - December 1817 American Flag - 1821 - present Confederacy - 1861 - 1862 Amelia Island was originally named “Santa Maria” which was derived from a mission the Spanish conducted after defeating France. The mission was aimed toward converting and educating natives. But after the English destroyed Spain's mission in 1702, Oglethorpe renamed the island “Amelia” in honor of King George II’s daughter. Who knew! How large is Amelia Island? I was curious too: 13.5 miles long. Width varies from a quarter mile to two miles. There are 11,600 acres; 18.2 square miles (7 square miles in the city limits of Fernandina Beach). Elevation averages 20-25 feet above mean sea level. Annual average temperature: 69.9°F. (Amelia Now Spring 2022) All sounds good to me! Wait, there’s more Sweeney-intrigue stuff about Amelia Island: “Since 1995, the Amelia Island Concours d’Elegance has annually brought some of the rarest, most beautiful and unique automobiles to the island every spring.” (Amelia Now Spring 2022) Every spring! Jeff is a big car buff so this is pertinent info. And, ya, there are horses on Amelia to boot. But, way more important is that pickleball is alive and well on the island! --Speaking of horses. When the real estate market comes down off its high-horse we’ll get saddle-comfort about trigger-pulling. Maybe a cute, little spot near John Grisham or something? Tips on Amelia from y'all are welcome and appreciated. Thanks for reading! Love, Shelley (Following up the previous blog, Jeff and I really hope some of you can join us at The Mane Event in September/Cherokee Town Club! More to come…)

“When I bestride him, I soar. I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes” — Shakespeare “When God wanted to create the horse, he said to the South Wind, ‘I want to make a creature of you. Condense.’ And the Wind condensed.” - Emir Abd-el-Kader “There is much we can learn from a friend who happens to be a horse.” - Aleksandra Layland. “A civilization is measured by how it treats its weakest members” Mahatma Gandhi The Horse is far from a weak member of civilization. In fact, the horse is notorious for strength, determination, endurance, valor, freedom, travel, companionship, beauty, and spirit. They are not mere animals. They are world contributors that have served in war, agriculture production, leisure and sport activities, and as humble therapeutic companions. In ancient Greece, horses symbolized wealth, prestige and power. Still today, they represent wealth, high rank and therapeutic friendship. The photos above make the esteemed quotes difficult to believe -- not that the horses don't live up to the accolades -- but rather that human beings walking among us could have callous capacity within their soul to maltreat, neglect and discard such an honorable creature, or any creature for that matter. Especially one that has contributed immensely to the advancement and well being of humans. Last weekend, Jeff and I travelled to north Georgia to visit Red Clay Ranch Equine Rescue and Sanctuary. We have supported this rescue for the past several years but had never visited. Having spent most of my life around horses, I was surprised and deeply moved to witness a side of equine struggle and triumph that I didn't know existed. There are 83 horses on 180 acres at RCR. Currently, none of the horses are ridden. With no trainer on-site, a riding ring goes unused. Some of the horses are available for adoption. About a dozen of them are completely blind or without eyes. The horses are all basically "out to pasture" enjoying their new, safe, caring home. I became obsessed with these two inseparable beauties, Meg and Finn: You may not believe it but Finn (above) is the same Finn as in the first, disturbing images. Miraculous! Finn was friendly and sociable with Jeff and me. He approached us at the fence for smooches and carrots. Meg waited at a distance for her buddy to fill his affection thirst. Their mesmerizing markings paired beautifully, side by side, like a painting; indeed, horses have been depicted in art for thousands upon thousands of years and it's easy to understand why. Together Meg and Finn exuded strength, beauty, companionship...survival... Below is a video of Finn struggling to get up when he first arrived at RCR. The clip was taken only a few months ago: Finn's idyllic life today is owed to Red Clay Ranch Equine Rescue and Sanctuary. It's my pleasure to introduce the Owner and Operator of Red Clay Ranch: Lee Rast. Lee is a retired ER nurse and her husband, Phil Rast, is a retired surgeon. Lee and many other volunteers are credited with saving Finn and numerous other horses. Jeff and I are honored to join Lee on her selfless mission to help the creature who has given to the world as a whole, extraordinarily. A Snippet of Finn's Survival Story at RCR Euthanasia is at the bottom of RCR's list of options for maltreated horses when they arrive at RCR. Every attempt to revive and restore the horse is pursued. Lee said that when they were bringing Finn to the ranch he collapsed in the trailer as they turned into their driveway. She didn't think he would survive. She said his body "slid out" of the trailor when they opened the trailer doors. BUT...suddenly she saw hope in his eyes. "Something in his effort to lift his head this one last time. We had to at least give him a chance to live, farfetched though it may have been. ...Finn was not ready to die." Lee saw a glimmer of hope in Finn's eyes and I believe Finn saw and felt much Hope in Lee's presence. Often, there is a "presence-connection" between a person and a horse that can't be described. One of my all time favorite quotes is from our pastor at Chuch of the Apostles, Michael Youssef: "If we can explain it, God did not do it." Presence-connections with horses are near impossible to describe. Finn spent three arduous weeks living in an Anderson sling. Lee slept by his side in a make-shift bed in the back of a jeep so she could be awakened every four hours to hand feed him small portions of food. Properly portioning Finn's nutrition was crucial so he wouldn't gorge and further impair his recovery. Lee said, "I hated giving him such a small amount of food when he was so very hungry, but the risks of overfeeding are enormous with this type of starvation..." When Finn laid down and tried to get up on his own he failed many times. Discouraging as it was, she kept on nourishing and nurturing him. Miraculously, on March 23, 2022, two months and four days after Finn's rescue Lee said, "Cool breezes were brisk, and the sun was shining...Finn began running up and down his pasture. He playfully kicked and bucked, showing us his recovered abilities to just be a horse!" If you're a passionate horse lover or always wanted to be, check out Red Clay Ranch Equine Rescue and Sanctuary. There are so many horses that need your help. If you're family or a friend of ours, be on the lookout for an invitation to a great event at Cherokee Town Club, September 9, 2022. This event is Red Clay Ranch's primary fundraiser. Jeff and I hope you can join us at one of two tables that we will sponsor. When Jesus first came to earth he rode humbly on a donkey’s back. Upon his second coming he will ride a white horse! ~The Bible~ Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

Happy Resurrection Day! I haven’t blogged in a while because…well…you don’t want to know why. It was just one of those things, so to speak. But all is good now, and I couldn’t be happier to make it back in time to wish everyone a HAPPY EASTER. Celebrating victory over death is cause for celebration indeed! Having an eternal connection to the Holy spirit is invaluable, to say the least. Earthly connections pale by comparison -- they’re fleeting, lacking in promise and most definitely lacking in life beyond the grave. Cheers to The connection for life and eternity: Jesus. Ok, enough preachy stuff. But I do want to wish everyone, not only a Happy Easter, but also a happy spring filled with everything except Covid-19. It’s hard to believe two years have passed since the first lockdown. What a miserable politically-induced health fiasco that was. Please Lord, have mercy on us, no more pandemics. (Yet, then again, we thank him for the not-so-good things (pandemics) too! Don't ask Why, ask Who! I know, I know, the bible is complicated.) Jeff and I attended 11 a.m. Easter service at Church of the Apostles. We were joined by a dear friend, Gail, her husband, daughter, and son-in-law, as well as, our daughter and son-in-law. Dr. Michael Youssef’s service was uplifting, inspiring and full of praise, as it always is. The Word isn't watered down at Church of the Apostles. Michael teaches the Truth, not feel good stuff. And, ya, the Truth hurts sometimes. But...it's the Truth... God has been so good to me and my family. Giving thanks, giving back, and worshiping Him is a humbling honor. Having a personal, spiritual relationship with God is the greatest gift I’ve ever received. I’ve never been a religious person per se (ok, except for coffee and exercise) but I'm gung-ho about my private relationship with God. It’s a private club…just me and Him. Or, YOU and Him? Happy Easter, again, I hope you had a wonderful day. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

I hope y’all are doing great and aren’t enduring anxiety to the point of physical pain, like I have been. But, if you are, I have a remedy for you: Spa Getaway. The girls and I (Triangle Park!) jetted off for a 60th birthday celebration (...Jeff and I have secret plans ;-). This particular “girls” trip was something that just sort of fell into place. Timing is everything. Diana was on spring break, Savanna needed a break and I was available...coping with the big 6-0. First stop: Amelia Island, Florida. I had never been and Jeff and I are considering a retirement home there. We stayed at the Ritz Carlton. Savanna generously secured a couple delightful upgrades (3-bathroom suite, champagne/chocolate surprises, photographer, etc.) that added to an already opulent ambience. Immediately, upon arriving at the Ritz--and I mean post haste--we headed to service appointments in the spa. Sav and I received facials and Diana opted for a massage. --Diana’s trip was grueling. She awoke at 3:15 a.m. in snow-blanketed Champaign, Illinois, drove an hour to the airport, flight was delayed an hour, she bolted to make our flight to Jacksonville, only to discover the pilot called in sick (yep, sick) which delayed all of us an hour, her bag didn’t make the Jacksonville flight and a nearby passenger to her held a barf bag the whole flight. BUT, her massage was amazing, she “almost fell asleep.” I’ve had a facial or two and a massage here and there, but I’ve never just hung out in a spa: relaxation room, jacuzzi, steam room, sauna, private shower (three jets!), herbal tea/snacks, heavenly scents emitting from who knows where. Have you spent hours in a spa? So, before leaving Atlanta the right side of my jaw locked up from anxiety. After receiving scary news, I awoke the next morning unable to open my mouth all the way. My jaw involuntarily shook, needle-type sensations irritated my back (apparently the upper vertebrae were messed up) and I was stuck in doldrums. Blah blah. I’m not looking for sympathy, I’m segwaying into how utterly awesome spending FOUR days in a spa can be for body burdens. Particularly burdens brought on by system shocks a/k/a stress. The Ritz jacuzzi with soothing baby blue and green tile, neatly folded towels, greenery, lounge chairs, bay window and adjacent sauna and steam room began the pleasant stroll to recovery. Years ago, I used to sit in a sauna from time to time but I haven't thought about doing so until last week. Laying down, spine flat on warm boards, sweat streaming off head and neck, muscles and joints voluntarily releasing was an unexpected, welcome, heaven-sent healing. After all that healing heat, we stepped into private showers filled with products that disagree with humidity. The shower and dressing room had aroma=therapy scents that were so soothing I reduced to tears. Crying in the shower is a beautiful thing. Tears just wash straight down the drain and no one is looking. From Amelia, we stopped on Jekyll Island as we made our way to Sea Island. Jekyll is my favorite-favorite place in the world to bike ride. Diana opted for quiet time alone to take care of law school stuff while Sav and I enjoyed absolutely perfect weather (70/cloudy) for bike riding. Jekyll bike trails are in and of themself a spa treatment. Next stop: The Spa at Sea Island/Cloister (and I mean cloistered). The Cloister spa beat the Ritz in scenery and serenity (except the sauna, Ritz sauna won). Cloister staff were ever present for guidance and comfort. The pool was surrounded by opulent decor and we all partook in swim time with a dip in an adjacent hot tub. Next to the pool was another jacuzzi-type, warm (not hot) tub that offered a short, circular staircase down a small flight of stairs where you could sit by a waterfall. I could go on writing hundreds of words to describe the Cloister Spa. The facility was impeccable, calming, top notch. Pretty sure you get the picture. Of special note was, in the private showers there was a hand held nozzle that emitted revitalizing citrus aroma: orange, minty freshness. Who wouldn’t be renewed after all that? If you need a relaxing break from daily stresses, or one big special stresser, consider a spa-getaway remedy. If not the Ritz or Cloister, somewhere else! While you detox, remember to forgive…yourself and others. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley Disclaimer Alert: IF you happened to read the last blog, it was not about my husband.