Search Results

Hey y’all: How’s summer going for you? If you’re in the southeast United States you’re feeling mother nature’s heat and humidity, with no mercy. Phew, Hotlanta… Whether you’re in Hotlanta or not, are you feeling heat in the aging department? Lately, I'm feeling both kinds of heat: environmental and aging. Twenty-four, seven a/c takes care of one problem but not so much the other one. Even if you’re young and [a hottie] all year-round, have you ever contemplated plastic surgery to take heat off personal-pride regarding this or that? Chances are, we all know family members and/or friends who have opted in to plastic surgery to change something about their appearance. I know a few. All women. These women truly looked beautiful, in my opinion, prior to surgery. They were on the road to aging gracefully. But something about their appearance caused them angst and they gave in to stitches and snips. I was introduced to plastic surgery at ten-years-old. Not me personally, but by a close family friend who opted in. Needless to say, processing elective plastic surgery at 10-years-old is chin-scratching. A seed of: should-I-change-the-way-God-made-me (because either I, or society, think there is a "better" way to look) was planted? I’m over 60-years-old and signs of aging are becoming easier to see and harder to hide: Sagging Sinking Wrinkles (And did you know that cartilage in nose and ears continues to grow and gravity enhances that unfortunateness) I visited a plastic surgeon in Atlanta last week to learn what he had to offer regarding my 61-year-old face. I expected to hear his opinion and expertise about different things he would recommend and I assumed I’d look at examples and diagrams. What I didn’t expect was having to hold a Romper Room style hand-mirror 6-inches from my face throughout the entire evaluation. (If you’re my age, do you remember Romper Room? The mirror? And Miss Nancy (or whatever her name was)? Ugh. I wished to be Miss Nancy on appointment day because I wanted to see other people in that darn mirror, not myself. (Remember she would look in the mirror and see other children?) My hand kept floating down to my lap and the surgeon would lift it right back up so that I could see what I didn’t want to see. It’s not that I don’t like my reflection. What I didn’t enjoy was the surgeon lifting my skin here and there to superimpose possibilities. I could envision outcomes if he’d just used a darn pencil and paper. The doctor had all sorts of ideas for getting to work on me right away. It made me wonder if business was slow? I hoped and prayed that was the case. Driving home, I thought long and hard about permanent changes people I knew had made. Some have said the surgery was worth it and others said not so miuch. One friend (late 70s) who made a living as a result of her beautiful face, says she would "never have plastic surgery." She says that she enjoys life more as she ages and emphasis and attention on her features wanes. Go figure. After the appointment, I came up with these questions to help me decide whether or not to have a procedure: Who is beautiful to me and why? Why is aging unattractive -- is it more about attention-seeking? Would I have loved and appreciated my grandmothers more if they looked less gramma-ish? Answers to these questions helped me decide to hang in there as the circle of life and natural aging progresses: My family and friends are beautiful in different ways, internally and externally. For me, internal beauty trumps external. In my opinion, aging is unattractive by media standards and media (social), because it’s driven by false pretenses, demands false images, attention-seekers. Grandmas looking like grandmas is the truth. I love truth. The doctor I visited was wonderful, competent and highly reviewed. Obviously, this is nothing against him! I’m happy to share his name if you’d like it. Email me: triangleparkatl@gmail.com. This aging grandma is loving life with this gorgeous, little guy. (Pinch the pic and you can see a lot of wrinkles. Or not.) Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley Haughty eyes and a proud heart, the lamp of the wicked, are sin - Proverbs 21:4

He’s here y’all! Savanna and Joe’s perfect earth angel. And I am not kidding about the “perfect” part. A perfect, absolutely perfect baby boy graced earth on Saturday, June 3, 2023 at 2:22 p.m. Sweet, precious Charles Ward Garde, 8 lbs. 11 oz. - 21 ¼ inches arrived. We were stunned that Charlie Garde came out with “I am a perfect baby” written across his tiny forehead. We assumed he’d be pretty cute, but perfect never crossed our minds. NO ONE is perfect! But there he was for all of us to see…preciously made…in God's family's eyes. Before we knew it, Charlie was laying on Savanna gurgling, breathing, moving, perfectly here. I can’t speak for all those who were on deck during the birth. But as for me…I will never be the same. Watching precious-perfectness glide onto earth was life-changing. --Lord have mercy. Y'all bear with me, I know that I have grandma-delirium and that baby Charlie Garde is not perfect. No baby or human is perfect. But, he’s pretty close. Not kidding. Said the first-time grandma: “My grandson is as close to perfection as any baby has ever come”. Savanna went into natural labor and though she received the maximum amount of painkillers when it came time to push, she pushed that little baby out in 22 minutes @ 2:22 (the nurse announced those times). (Psst. 22 indeed has significance. Oh my Lord, we were stunned by the numbers.) Now that sweet Charlie is here, I have been thanking God and praying to God for that precious, little baby. He is a humbling, sacred gift. Little Charlie is changing minute by minute, growing right before our eyes. One thing is for sure: he is utterly in love with his mama and daddy. And, like the rest of us, they thinks he’s pretty cute, too. Charlie is surrounded by people who fell instantly in love with him. We’re all wondering what we can do for him? How can we protect him? For now, we lean on prayer, day in and day out, in hopes of healthy growth and for grandma-dilerium to pass. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

Hi Friends, How is your summer going? Do you have a special, big trip planned? Or, maybe a small, side trip? Jeff and I recently pulled off a side trip to the Ranches at Belt Creek, Montana. I say “pulled off” because we booked and canceled so many times it was a miracle that it transpired. We purchased the trip at a horse rescue auction a couple years ago. (Quick plug: The same auction will be held this year on September 15. Check out details here, especially if you’re a horse enthusiast.) Because we canceled the ranch trip more than once, there came a point where we thought the trip was a wash, a donation at best. We even almost bailed out while on the way there, in Salt Lake City. Our “host” hadn’t made contact with us (given the wrong cell number) and we were skittish by having a lack of details. While waiting in SLC we inquired about getting our bags off the plane and vacaying in Utah! In a matter of seconds we had a Utah itinerary: Drive 3 hours south to Richfield, Utah (parents used to live there) Then, to Provo, UT to see friends Check out Deer Valley But, the host made contact at the very last minute and we journeyed to Great Falls, MT as planned. The clubhouse and cabin accommodations at RBC are an authentic representation of cowboy, huntsman and western outdoor life. Personally, I was right at home with all of it. Secluded mountain homes, buffalo, mountain lions, antlers, horses, guns, trucks, Cherry Cream Soda, a 3-legged dog were all my dad’s favorite things in life. There was even a waitress, Jan, who looked, walked and talked eerily similar to dad's sister. Two pastures of horses spread out over a valley in front of our cabin. The horses (and one donkey) migrated to a vast, adjacent pasture every day. Jenny, the barn manager, herded them on an ATV along with her two dogs. Occasionally, a horse or two would stray but they didn’t go far and Jenny was never worried about them. A rogue horse could stay right where they wandered to. They wouldn’t venture far from the herd regardless of being able to. One aspect that brought us down to realty was when we got stopped by federal agents at the end of RBC’s private road. The agents were escorting a nuke. Seeing the monster bomb glide by was a bit of a buzzkill but made returning to Atlanta a little easier. If you live a hectic, big-city life I recommend the Ranches at Belt Creek. The atmosphere, terrain, hospitality and accommodations were a quiet get-away from Atlanta. But, it may help if you're a horse lover, cowboy-life fan...or in awe of being close to where many, major weapons are ready to be launched. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus - 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Red Clay Ranch (RCR) Equine Rescue and Sanctuary is a fully licensed, 501c3 non-profit organization designed to offer rehabilitation and sanctuary to horses in need. Jeff and I visited one of our favorite charitable organizations: Red Clay Ranch Equine Rescue and Sanctuary, for the second time, this past weekend. Participating in a sanctuary that honors dignity of the animal that has served man in monumental ways (strength, determination, endurance, valor, freedom, travel, companionship, beauty, spirit, etc.) for thousands of years, brings humble joy. We had barely stepped outside the car when we saw our name near RCR’s “medical stall.” I was rendered speechless, literally. Is this why some people put “anonymous” in such instances? God’s name should be there, not ours. Have you ever been honored for something and felt unworthy of it? Imposter syndrome, maybe? Ironically, our visit yesterday went hand-in-hand with the “medical” side of RCR’s mission. The first horse that caught my eye was in a corral where rescues stay until they [hopefully] gain enough strength to join a herd. There had never been a horse in this corral during previous visits. This sweet boy’s name is Toby and it was love at first sight. As you can see, Toby was weak, down. Starved yet safe and being cared for. I offered Toby a carrot. He wasn't interested at first but eventually partook. Soon, he struggled to rise, expelling diarrhea, unable to stand. A vet was called. (Side note: Large animal veterinarians are becoming rare. Women are especially rare in this field. Here's an article explaining the shortage.) When the vet arrived she listened to Toby's lungs, checked his eyes, mouth, did her thing...ultimately concluding he had a bad belly ache. I felt miserable thinking the carrot I gave him caused his pain. How could I be so careless to cause Toby's stomach further upset? This was not my first rodeo! I knew better. But, apparently (thankfully!) I was not the cause of Toby's ill angst. Toby was given a shot of something that had him feeling better rather quickly. (His face covering is due to a cut on his eye.) Inevitably, I fell hopelessly in love with Toby. Now, we're buying a house closer to the ranch so I can visit him every day. Kidding. But wish it was true. What is true is that we're looking forward to following his progress and will help however we can to ensure success. In ancient Greece, horses symbolize wealth, prestige and power. Still today, they represent wealth, high rank and therapeutic friendship. For me, they represent joy…to give back. If you’re a horse lover or admirer from afar and would like to support or volunteer at a rescue, give google a quick search! Opportunities abound. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean - Revelation 19:14 - Horse Rescues Heal

“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

Seems like yesterday that Dirty Deeds Junk Removal was on the premises of my parent’s house. As they loaded what remained of my childhood (which was a s**t load), I scanned the last remnants, hands shaking and heart pounding. The laundry room was near the garage. It was the last room to get “swept out.” An air of nothingness filled this room. Old purses, a 50-year-old hamper, iron, brooms, lightbulbs, batteries, miscellaneous Christmas decorations that begged the question: how in the world did they end up in this room. Pretty much junk. Ahh, but, one man’s junk is another man’s treasure? On the inside wall of the laundry room near the light switch, hung car keys. Two of the key rings belonged to my dad who passed away in 2017. Five years later the keys hung right where he left them. One was a “London” keychain that I brought back after a UK visit in 1980. The other key ring had his beloved Army dog tag hanging from it. In the early 1950s, dad was so proud to serve in the United States Army, stationed in Germany. His army dog tag stayed with him for nearly 70 years. Of the many things in my parent’s home, there are two that have more value than all else: The dog tag (bet you guessed that would be on the list?), and A handwritten apology to me from my mother (found in much the same way as the dog tag. Late in the game, by chance.) Though dad’s dog tag had been around a long time, I had never examined it or understood what the numbers on it meant. I was stunned to read: 2103302. Why? What’s the big deal? Our address for the past 32 years has been 2103. And, 33 is Jeff’s favorite number and 22 was mom’s. I know that’s just a bunch of trivia…but still…2103302?? The “O” in front of the numbers was dad's rank, Officer. T-51 indicates he had a tetanus shot in 1951. “A” is his blood type and “P” indicates that dad was a Protestant. I took this cherished dog tag to a jeweler and had a gold band put around the perimeter and a gold ring attached for a chain. The chain is custom made too. I dismantled a necklace that I didn’t like much and made it specifically for dad’s dog tag. Think dad is smiling down? My second favorite “inherited” item from my parents is a hand-written apology to me from my mother. Obviously, I won’t give the details. But here’s a snippet. (My cousin read it recently and left her mark of fingerprints in the upper left region :) Last winter, while sitting by a cozy, warm fireplace, I went through piles of cards, letters, papers…stuff…and came across this hand-written apology. I heard my mother’s voice clearly, succinctly, vividly. A God thing. Think mom is smiling down? Like dad’s dog tag, that came so very close to being cast in a landfill, mom’s cherished note came very close to going up in flames through our chimney at 2103. As many of you are, I’m blessed in pretty awesome ways. Though thankful for all, I’m especially thankful for the above two, favorite treasures. Moral of the story: If you feel and rushed and crushed, just do your best and trust God to handle serendipity. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley Luke 8:17 - For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light.

Hi Y'all, I hope your April is going well. And that you had a wonderful resurrection day! I'm beginning to think this blog will soon morph form Triangle Park to Quad Park? As in...add Charlie? Savanna's pregnancy seems to be a continuing topic. My mom used to be a regular theme. Now, as we watch the circle of life evolve before our eyes...Charlie is the new focus. (Major blessing!) If you read my last blog, you know that we celebrated Charlie’s pending arrival at a shower that a dear friend graciously hosted. Having two showers for an expectant mom-to-be isn’t unusual, is it? They’re usually broken down by different social circles or situations? Something like that. I had two showers while expecting Savanna. One was hosted by a friend and the other was given by co-workers. The generosity and kindness of so many people was humbling, some folks I didn't even know. Yesterday was Charlie and Savanna’s second baby shower. It was so much fun! Maybe the best shower ever. Sav’s good friend, Katherine, hosted. Kat was the first person to offer putting together a gift-giving gala. But, a situation and social-circle-thing arose resulting in someone else hosting the “big” shower. (Please don’t get me wrong! This isn’t compare and contrast! The “big” shower was the best baby shower ever too!!). Yesterday's shower was just the latest best baby shower ever. Here’s why: Knowing that no one wants to be invited to TWO (maybe not even one, haha) baby showers, Katherine invited only me and her sweet mother, Sarah, to this latest best-baby-shower ever. The four of us met at the St. Regis Hotel for High Tea @ 1:15. An opulent staircase leads the way upstairs to where high tea is served, over-looking the lobby. Once seated, we each chose a flavor of sipping tea (mine was Harmony) as we chit-chatted non-stop. Sarah and I shared anecdotes of our child-bearing days. We talked about photos. Back in our day, of course, photos had to go to a developer. We laughed about the drugstore having to see some of the pictures. And we gasped at today’s digital pics potentially making their way all over social media and the web. The variety of tea sandwiches were simply scrumptious. There was a small, round pastry filled with smoked salmon, topped with caviar and a spattering of gold dust. There was also a light Italian sausage concoction (delicious!), incredible egg and curry chicken salad, and cucumber too! The majority of us thought the smoked salmon won first place while one of us thought the Italian sausage took the cake. When it came to dessert, well, they were amazing too. But, speaking for only myself…I was a little too full to enthusiastically participate and rank. They sure were beautiful though and tied for beauty as far as I could tell. When we were done, we headed outdoors to snap some pics and enjoy each other's company a while longer. In the end, Savanna’s “second” shower was fun, delicious, classy and very appreciated. Meeting the mom of Savanna’s dear friend in honor of my first grandchild was an extra special way to celebrate. Thank you, Kat! And… Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

Does having a party at your house rev you up more than co-hosting at someone else’s home? Perhaps you don’t bat an eye at either? You’re the consummate party planner and thrower? Savanna’s baby shower was a blessing. The event took place in a fairy-tale setting. Ariel, Belle, and Jasmine (Sav’s faves) would have approved. The shower was in a house patterned after a European castle. The facade was stone with a huge tower serving as the front entrance. The driveway was long and peaceful, set back in woods on a flat plain. The landscape was natural, pleasantly groomed, not fake or artificial-looking. A stroll over light gravel and crunchy foliage led you to a 14-foot high beveled-glass front door that opened into the castle tower. There were more beveled glass windows throughout the tower. Sun shining through the many windows spread rainbows around the tower. I kept thinking how a rainbow maker would add yet more rainbow beauty. Have you heard of rainbow makers? They’re small crystals that circulate with solar energy. A rainbow maker certainly wasn’t needed in this beautiful tower but if there was one, guaranteed, it’d produce bookoodles of rainbows. Here’s a link to rainbow makers: and a snippet of what the area looked like. Most of you know I like to take photographs. This party was different. I took a single photograph. One! Here it is: The tower photo above was taken as the last people there were leaving the party. The picture wasn’t my idea and I obviously didn’t take it but I sure am happy to have it. (A friend who wasn’t able to attend was shocked there were no photos for her to vicariously chew on, after-the-fact.) Here’s the thing, taking photos is a relaxing pass-time for moi. Sav and I were wound tight for this party… Therefore: throwing a party in [my] house definitely revs my engines more than co-hosting in someone else’s home. Thus, no photo collage. But, no way am I a consummate party thrower. The girls and I (Jeff too) were so honored that our friends offered to host a baby shower in their lovely home. The beauty of it all is part of what churned us up. And the fact that it wasn’t our turf. Not being on our own turf was so odd because every invitee was a friend of Savanna, Diana or me. Guests who attended came from very different circles (family, church, business, high school, college, work). Seeing all the faces of people I/we love and care so much about walking into a home that I’d never been in before, at one point, caused light-headedness. I was standing with Diana while she delivered a toast of a funny anecdote about Savanna being a stellar babysitter. The story was about Sav sitting for two neighborhood boys, Brian and Stuart. The job was Savanna’s but on one occasion Diana filled in for her. The boys were disappointed that D didn’t live up to S’s standards of imaginary story-telling. Diana came home that night saying she “kids don't like her, never wanted to babysit again, didn’t care how much it paid.” The humor was welcome, a lot of people got a kick out of it. But all of a sudden I felt dizzy, wondering if dehydration was the cause. Now, thinking back, the cause was more likely that my/our stress-engines were internally overheated. The party was a week ago, Savanna and I continue to say we’re exhausted every time we speak and though she is pregnant and I am old, we both attribute our tiredness to the baby shower. That’s how magnificent it was! Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley In all things give thanks ~ Thessalonians 5:18

Last weekend was Triangle Park’s first Grandma/Girls Get-away (“3G”). Our first girls-get-away was when Diana was a baby. The three of us packed up and headed to Richfield, Utah. Our second excursion was when Diana was about 2-years-old, we journeyed to Idaho. Ever since those two trips, we continued traveling together, just the three of us. Our third trip was to Michigan, then Oregon, California, New York, the Bahamas and on. There are also in between trips with just two of us traveling together. This latest trip was our 2nd annual trip to The Cloister / Sea Island. We want to make Sea Island an annual event. Who wouldn’t? Even though these special get-aways are indeed girl trips, we are making an exception to the rule and allowing one boy in. Beginning 2024 Triangle ParkATL’s annual girl trips will be + 1 boy. Many of you already know that Savanna is expecting a baby boy, Charlie, in May or June. So, how will adding a boy to our girls trip work? What will that be like? Grandma along to babysit? One thing is for sure, I won’t mind babysitting Charlie! Or! That he is a boy... This past trip was getting baby Charlie used to the idea. After all, he was along for the ride. We hired a photographer to document our trip again this year. Sure enough, Charlie was in on the action. He’s just so cute already. Look at that little basketball bambino. Our scheduled photo session day was cold and windy but we did it anyway. The location was Avenue of the Trees on St. Simons Island. You may recognize the spot. It’s right before the gate to The Cloister Lodge. A beautiful setting regardless of the sun being absent. Savanna rented all three of us dresses from Rent the Runway. She’s done this several times with success. Lilly Pulitzer is not my and Diana’s style per se but we enjoyed the brightness of Savanna’s design choices, especially on a cloudy day. It’s crazy that the dresses fit us. How is that? I can try clothing on for an hour in a dressing room and have nothing whatsoever work out. Savanna orders online and with confidence packs the items, letting us know that she has what “we’ll wear.” This was not the first time she’s controlled our le stylisme. Quick plug to the photographer! I/we loved working with Calli Kennedy, The Living Lenz. It doesn’t take much to fluster me with technological maneuvering. Calli’s process was utterly seamless from start to finish. Here is a link to her website: The Living Lenz Calli epitomizes professionalism, friendliness and gentle spirit. Thank you for reading and Happy St. Patrick’s Day all you Irish folks (7% for me according to 23 & Me)! Our first “3G” trip was fun, especially +1! Love, Shelley I am reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also ~ 2Timothy 1-5

Do you have a problem eating alone in public (excluding business travel)? Does the thought of cutting into a steak or solo-sipping wine alone in your hometown make you insecure? What about vacation traveling to a city where no one knows you? Would you be more comfortable eating alone in public where no one knew who you were? A couple weeks ago I returned from a solo vacation trip to London, England. My girlfriends rather loved the idea of me going alone. A lot of positive feedback was received from friends. I especially liked friends who said, “hmm, I never really thought about doing that. Now, that’s a thought…” The only negative feedback was that a couple friends said: “I wouldn’t like eating alone. You’re going to eat alone? Or, room service?” The answer was: Both. I only ordered room service if I was too tired to venture out, which was three times. Because the “eating alone” dilemma came up with friends more than once, it got me thinking. When I began planning a solo trip to London, eating alone didn’t enter my mind a single time. There are so many people in London that imagining being alone was/is virtually impossible. Room service meals would indeed be alone, and welcome. But, my eating-alone enthusiasm is contained to London and other United Kingdom cities that I’m obsessed with (all of them). Making a reservation for “1” as I did around London, does not float my boat in Atlanta. Eating alone makes me uncomfortable too, at least in my hometown it does (save for behind the driver’s wheel). Like London, Atlanta has many nice restaurants. But you won’t find me making a reservation for “1” and being happy as a clam chatting up the wait staff [alone] in ATL. I will choose inside my house every time while on home turf. Savanna and I passed by Felinni’s Pizza on Howell Mill Road in Atlanta last weekend. The sun was shining, spring was in the air, a beautiful day. We saw a man eating pizza and a salad outside on the terrace, alone. Savanna said, “that’s sad.” I said, “he’s probably from out of town, enjoying time away alone, doesn’t know a soul, loving life…eating!” To each his own. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley "Words are the only things that last forever" ~ Winston Churchill

We all have our favorite-things-in-the-world to do. For me: Horses Pickleball Travel The order is alphabetical because ranking is just too hard. What are your favorite-things-in-the-world to do? I love asking that question because being someone who loves to “hobby-blog/write,” I’m aware that nothing bores a reader more than first-person-all-about-the-writer prose. An earnest attempt is made to share experience vs. status updating. If you happen to enjoy vacationing in London and horseback riding, I recommend Hyde Park Stables. (HPS). The British love their horses and Hyde Park Stables is an admirable example of sharing said love with the public. Hyde Park Stables’ first priority is safety. If you want to have free-rein right off the bat HPS isn’t the place for you. Until the guides know your riding ability you’ll have to remain on a lead line. And that may be for the whole ride depending upon their assessment. Or, if you’re like I was for most of today you may request to remain and relax on a lead line. I rode an Irish Cobb named, Charlie, today. Having rented a few UK horses, I‘m familiar with the Irish Cobb. Are you? Truth be told, they’re not that great. However, they are “safe.” A guide once told me that “a bomb could go off next to that horse and he won’t flinch.” Needless to say, knowing that didn’t make me fonder of them. (Albeit, I must say, at my age safety is becoming more prudent.) Hyde Park Stables offers private rides where you go out by yourself (almost) with a guide. Today, I was pleasantly surprised upon being introduced to my ride, Charlie. He was small, only 14 hands. Exactly what I hoped for. Sixteen plus hand horses provide only visual and ground appeal in one’s 60s…know what I mean? Charlie had spirit and spunk like a show pony. His walk was swift, ears perked and he was ever-so annoyed by his companion, Lemon. Charlie was much smaller than Lemon but valiantly wanted him to know that he was boss. To my surprise, Charlie is an Irish Cobb! Hyde Park has trails of sand specifically for horses. There are also paved lanes marked Horses Only. People out and about seem to enjoy watching the horses. A few took photos today (and they asked if the could). My guide, Ryan, asked a young boy on a scooter to please stop but the boy ignored him. It‘s always nice when the public respects the spook-factor and flight instinct of horses, but not everyone knows about this and the boy was quite young. Charlie and Lemon didn’t react. Bomb proof? Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

Hey Y’all: How’s everyone doing? Do you ever attend Evensong? Have you even heard of Evensong? I’ve only been to two Evensong services. One was a few years ago at Westminster Abbey in the middle of November. Today, I attended Evensong at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. —Do you remember a most-famous wedding in 1981 at St. Paul’s Cathedral? No, no, not Luke and Laura’s. Theirs was in a New York film studio. Haha. Of course…Prince Charles and Lady Diana’s!— This isn’t a blog to share my opinion of Evensong at St. Paul’s Cathedral or to reminisce about the royal wedding because I’m in London. Or, perhaps it is… Here’s the thing, attendance in churches (regardless of where) is down, especially in the UK. If a single person shows up, hooray. Today, there were quite a few people at Evensong in St. Paul’s Cathedral. But, oh my, the sanctuary could have handled many more sinners, like me. I sat in the front row, directly across from where Diana spoke royal vows 41 years ago at age 20 (she wasn’t even old enough to enter many U.S. bars). Diana’s marriage to Prince Charles was spellbinding to much of the world. I was 19-years-old at the time, count me in. Evensong was competing for my attention (and other’s?) over memories of Charles and Diana’s wedding. First, I’m not sure where the priest stood (again, this was only my second Evensong). He wasn’t in front, that I know. His voice came through a speaker to my left, and a little behind me. I waited and waited for someone to step out, all the while thinking that he sounded just like Oz in the Wizard of Oz. I’m not criticizing the audio and tone, this is simply what it sounded like (exactly!) to me. The operatic music was beautiful, a God-like language. But it’s not really my cup-of-tea whilst worshiping. But I respect it. I also assume it’s a huge part of what draws people to attend Evensong? Unfortunately, operatic singing makes me sleepy and easily distracted. I found myself recreating Diana’s wedding day. I remembered how shy, though happy, she appeared. I remembered her utterly genuine demeanor and how you could tell from the gitgo that she’d be a people person. I drifted to Charles and how he looked so much older than Diana. How he appeared a bit stiff, not as smitten and exuberant as I’d imagine a Prince to be on his wedding day. As the music hypnotically bogged me down, the royal wedding circa July 29, 1981 kept me going. I could see Diana’s long dress train draped over the black and white checkered floor and could almost hear Joan Lunden covering the hoorah on Good Morning America. Eventually, I remembered what I was in the cathedral to do: worship. So, then, I started envisioning lively Christian music in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Think: Third Day and Mac Powell for instance. Have you listened to Mac Powell? Mac draws a crowd. St. Paul’s Cathedral can hold a crowd and then some. Oh how exciting it would be to hear Mac Powell belt out Soul on Fire in St. Paul’s! I appreciate that lively music in a church service is not for everyone. Sure would be fun to give it a try though? I wasn’t the only person that looked bogged down. Like I said, I don’t wish to criticize St. Paul’s. I’m honored and humbled to have been welcomed inside for Evensong service. —Just bloggin’ and sayin’…that I have a dream for “the church” to once again draw crowds.— IMHO, that won’t happen without bringing some traditions up-to-date, like music. Especially in a venue that hosted one of the most famous weddings of all time. To end on a positive. The outside and inside of St. Paul’s Cathedral and so, so many other European churches and cathedrals is simply stunning. Architecturally, church sites in Europe stand the test of time in drawing crowds to visit in awe of their beauty, if nothing else. How wonderful it would be if the Holy Spirit could draw the same crowds. Not only to beautiful cathedrals, like St. Paul’s, but to Him in general. No matter where you are. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley