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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…)

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.

Which is more significant to you: first, last, or random in between words from loved ones gone on? Granted you may not know their first words, but then again, maybe you do. Fascination with a baby’s first word(s) is common. Birthdays too. (Who thinks birthdays get old? Pun intended.) Growing up, my mother used to say: “Famous last words” a lot when she was calling attention to something someone said. Usually, it was something dad said…to her. My dad is the closest person I’ve ever lost. His last words are ingrained in my psyche: Take my socks off, Shell. That’s right -- I knocked my dad’s socks off before he crossed over and here’s how: Before dad died, he accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior. He confessed to me that he wanted to give his life to Jesus before leaving earth. Dad wanted to be forgiven of sin and guilt. He wanted to rest in peace. Steve Jobs’ last words were: “Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.” Did he see something exciting ahead? Had Mr. Jobs socks been knocked off!? When I was by dad’s side in the hospital, he told me he didn’t think he was going to make it. I comforted him by telling him everything would be ok. What helped me help him the most was sharing a quote from John Green’s book, “Looking For Alaska.” In Green’s book, Miles is obsessed with last words: “I found myself thinking about President William McKinley, the third American president to be assassinated. He lived for several days after he was shot, and towards the end, his wife started crying and screaming, “I want to go too! I want to go too!” And with his last measure of strength, McKinley turned to her and spoke his last words: “We are all going.” Truer words were never spoken. Another poignant quote from President McKinley, as he neared his final breath, is: “It is God’s way. His will be done, not ours.” FAMOUS LAST WORDS “Take my socks off” -- David Corkill “It is God’s way. His will be done, not ours.” -- William McKinley “Oh wow! Oh wow! Oh wow!” -- Steve Jobs Final curtain calls matter, in the end. May heaven knock all our socks off one day. Check out more famous quotes here ! Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

The big 6-0 arrives in a matter of seconds, ready or not. To be exact: 2,674,800 seconds from today, February 11, 2022. But who’s counting? Turning 60 isn’t so bad. I tell myself: look on the bright side…you married a younger man. Three-hundred-twenty-five days younger, to be exact. But, who’s counting? What’s the best part of turning 60? The best part of turning 60 is that all embarrassing, cringeworthy stuff was done way before the internet was even conceptualized. Most of us older folks gasp imagining our "crazy" days thriving on a computer archive, forever. True, I didn’t participate in too outrageous of antics or deportment, but the mere thought of minor oopses that I did partake in...being forever kept alive in cyberspace...terrifies me. No! Just no. What’s the worst part of turning 60? Muscle-Brain reaction time slowing down. If you play pickleball you know what I'm talking about. Pickleballs fly fast. Sometimes I don't feel as fast as I should be, or remember once being. Good news is pickleball keeps you ahead of the MB atrophy slide. There is a lot to be thankful for (health, shelter, comfort, successful kids, anchored marriage). So far, 60 looks pretty good up ahead. I'll be happy to reach it in 2,674,800 seconds. Then, I'll be married to a younger man while lounging on the beach. I asked mom (Gam, Grandma, Nana, Aunt Diane, Diane) what the toughest thing about turning 60 (or any age over 50) was. She said, “None of it made any difference to me. You know, as long as you feel good, it doesn’t really matter. -- One hundred will! That one will matter. I want to live to 100. Don’t know if I will of course. But I’m trying.” I guess I feel the same way. Sixty doesn’t really make a difference in my life. Most definitely 100 will. But I’m not sure I feel the same about making it to 100. Maybe at 92 I will... Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley Photo Timeline of Six Decades Moses was 120 years old when he died, yet his eyesight was clear, and he was as strong as ever.~ Deuteronomy 34:7 https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/wellness-and-prevention/its-never-too-late-five-healthy-steps-at-any-age

In 2016 there were 82,000 centenarians (people 100 years or older) in the United States. This figure is expected to increase to 589,000 in the year 2060 (Statista, October 28, 2021). In 2060 I’ll be 98. That means if I make it to centenarian status there will be closer to 600,000 of us old farts shuffling around. How old will you be in 2060? Are you living a life style that is conducive to reaching 100? Do you want to live to 100? Remember being a teenager and thinking age 40, 50 or [gasp] 60-years-old was eons and eons off? People who’re that old will surely stay that old and “we” will most certainly hover around 20-something forever…or not. Wishful thinking, we all do it once in a while. Now that I’m a mother to my 92-year-old mother (Diane), I have freaking 1-0-0 on my age radar. One hundred! What tha… Taking things for granted is never a good idea but the way things are going, 100-years-old is looking fairly feasible for Diane and since I have half her DNA...oh my. Here’s an article that was published on Diane’s 92nd birthday last year in Health Fitness Revolution (HFR). I peaked at it because of the title: The Top Ten Foods Centenarians Eat. I know mom’s diet intimately because not long ago I was her private cook for three weeks. Though I agree with the "top ten foods" mentioned and do indeed incorporate all of them into my diet, mom regularily only consumes three of the foods on the list (eggs, avocado, chickpeas). The first recommendation in the article is actually a habit rather than a diet component: "Eat a Healthy Breakfast," A big/healthy breakfast is positively part of Diane's daily routine. But, other than chickpeas in the form of hummus, avocado and occassional fish none of the other items are staples in her longevity arsenal. She eats plenty of chicken, ground beef and pork (lots of spaghetti w/meat sauce!). As certain as the sun rises, three hardboiled eggs, oatmeal, wheat toast w/butter and absolutely no coffee or tea is a significant part of Diane's reach-for-centenarian-status morning routine. Having watched and helped mom bounce back from two major accidents I took note of how she eats. Never will I underestimate the power of hardboiled eggs, oatmeal (breakfast!) and naps. The list of foods in HFR will help all of us but I hope you'll also consider what mom incorporates in her daily routine to stay healthy (eggs and oatmeal, eggs and oatmeal) -- did I say eggs and oatmeal. PSST, rumor has it that Betty White loved potato chips and french fries...me too! (Southern Living January 5, 2022) Thank the Lord for that recommendation :-) The importance of elder socializing isn't emphasized in this artile but it is in many others. My family provides the lion's share of mom's party life. We recently took her out to say good-bye to Diana (I know their names get confusing) as she headed back to law school. Carbonara is a favorite Italian restaurant where the food is delicious, service is superb and wine is abundant (no wine for mom though). Check it out: Speaking of old age, something the bible says: "Do not cast me off in the time of old age: forsake me not when my strength is spent" ~ Psalm 71:9. AMEN to that. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

American culture doesn’t fancy aging. I know because my American mother pushes back when it comes to such. She mostly just talks about self-preservation but she's been known to patronize Estee Lauder’s anti-aging counter and a couple other [more intense] remedies. Though, strangely, she’s never had a facial. Sometimes I’m an anti-aging fanatic too -- no alcohol, endless drinking water, mandatory sunscreen, excess exercise, organic preference, and white-knuckle praying to stay recognizable in the mirror. For me, feeling good is looking good. When mom (Diane) was younger, she held onto her age until the exact date of her next birthday. She was 32, 44, 59 or whatever age until the final hour of December 27. Funny thing is, she’d bump my age ahead, but not hers. This year was different. Mom started referring to herself as “92” at least six months prior to her actual birthday. My family followed suit. We spoke of her being 92 when she really wasn't. Diane was proud and eager to turn a larger number in 2021. Surrender of the inevitable was in gear. As a pencil portrait artist, my favorite subjects are old people. Storybook expression lines map individual joy/pain journeys. I get hypnotized bringing to life shadowy intricacies of facial lines. What’s your preference: character-line crevices or stationary, smooth features? On December 27, 2021 we celebrated, you guessed it, mom’s 92nd birthday. She always says “no one wants to celebrate a birthday right after Christmas, no one wants to think about presents.” My family never suffers Christmas burn-out to the point of ignoring birthdays after 12/25, including hers. But Diane never fails to assume we all dread the event. In younger days the only thing she ever wanted to receive on her birthday was a card. She loved to read the gushy, sentimental writings and she'd want confirmation that we meant what the card said. In her 90s, cards are so last millenium. Mom wants to get out and celebrate now! Our first stop was lunch at J. Alexander's. From there, we took her to see Jeff's office for the first time. She often says: "I wonder if I'll ever see Jeff's new office." When the party was over, we took her home for the afternoon nap. Fun and phew. The only downside of the big bash was saying Happy “92nd” Birthday because we had all been saying it for a good six months already. Now, ninety-three seems way, way far off. New Year 2022 Resolution: Don’t say mom is 93 until she is NINETY-THREE! As we all head down the inevitable aging trail, it’s comforting to know that if we’re lucky enough to make it to 90, adding birthdays can (will!) be relished versus resisted. It's also comforting to know that Estee Lauder and other swanky options really aren't all that and a bag of chips. Mom buys her makeup and skincare at Kroger and Mary Kay now. Who knew. Living in an age where most of us fight back on looking older, this is good news...makes me smile. Feeling good means looking good. It’s the perfect addition to anyone’s look-good (not younger, good!) regime: SMILE... Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley 2 Corinthians 4:16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.

Who among us doesn’t love roasted vegetables, roasted turkey and roast beef? Delicious! But, have you ever had a chance to try a “roasted” husband? Or, “roasted” wife, friend, etc.? Recently, I tasted a slightly over-roasted husband. At first I was like, meh, it must be an acquired taste or maybe he just cooked a little too much this time. But, after a few more tries it grew on me. Some of the condiments (walking cane, multiple bathrobes, wine for ages) were funny and made swallowing it easier. Kind of like the way busting your ass to get ahead in life grows on you: lick thy wounds, pretend they don’t hurt, hold your nose and laugh…to “get there.” Last weekend was our company’s Christmas/Holiday party. A good time was had by all on the 26th floor of the swanky Buckhead Club (games, DJ, amazing food, beautiful view, dancing…and surprises). Years of hard work went into making it to the Buckhead Club for a Christmas celebration. This year was particularily special because,...as you already know -- roasted husband -- (mine!) was served for all to devour. Upon arrival, I was swiftly informed that my handsome husband, who is easing into retirement, would be roasted to a crisp after dinner was served. Would I care to join him on stage in the oven? was presented to me as an option. In spite of innate stage fright, I joyfully accepted. Of course I’d roast, I mean stand by, his side while enduring over-the-hill grief from co-workers. Jeff and I are blessed to make it to retirement age. Much success has come our way and we are beyond grateful. No doubt, we’ve had our share of frowns and why me days, but such is the road to reward. No pain no gain (I know, original right?). Acquiring taste for a [surprise] roasted husband wasn’t, right off the bat, easy. But I wouldn’t have forfeited a front row seat no matter how hard my heart pounded or how hard I prayed to not have to speak. There was a steady flow of folks streaming down the aisle with absurd, gotcha gifts in tow. One gift of note was a chair to rock the days away that says “Porche” -- as opposed to Porsche -- on the back. It even has a gear shift on it (sadly no photo). I’ve never in all of our marriage seen Jeff in a bathrobe. He now has five, three of which are Hugh Hefner-esque, hmm. He has enough coffee mugs with retirement quotes to last for ten straight days. Knickknacks were received that only people who gave them know the meaning of. Stuff kept coming and coming down the aisle, including an age-defying dermabrasion tool and hilarious-looking golf pants. Before long Jeff Sweeney was well-done, over-cooked. Audience interest waned and it was at this moment that I most enjoyed it because nobody cared who was on stage and I was keenly aware of that. Good laughs were on a roll! A couple days later, we took the girls to the office to see their father’s roasted gear. We got as silly as the roasting itself was. We couldn’t find the golf pants though? If someone snuck them out, I’m certain Jeff will spy them on a golf course sooner or later. They’re hard to miss. Cheers to all those who have tasted a good, well-done, roasted husband and swallowed it with joy, love and laughter. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley “You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.” ~ 2 Corinthians 9:11

I hope you are doing well and that your December duties have started off smoothly, void of conflict. Christmas truly is the most wonderful time of the year. It's the one and only birthday celebration for which we receive so, so much. And it’s not even our birthday. The irony is that Christmas is a birthday celebration where there is really no need to shop for gifts. Essentially, there is nothing we can give or do that is worthy of Him. Although spiritually, much can be done. We can privately (or publicly) surrender ego, self and sin (things that stores don’t contain, online sites don’t list and no one can make or manufacture). In short, repent. After that whopper-whoozie, just sit back and receive foregivness, Truth and eternal life. The cool thing is, we can receive those gifts (foregiveness, truth, eternal life) at any moment of any day what-so-ever, where ever we are. I know some people who get emotionally agitated as soon as Thanksgiving is over. Depression hits them when Christmas starts closing in. Missing loved ones, memories of past celebrations or whatever the case may be, emotions never fail to lead them down December-Dread Drive. When the True reason for Christmas is shrouded in negativity, the joyest among us get down. Can you imagine how different the tempo leading up to December 25 would be if the real reason for the season was embraced? I didn't mean to get preachy but I do hope this makes sense. I'd be lost without it. Really lost. Jesus isn’t the only December birthday near and dear to my heart. Savanna was born on Thursday, December 19 @ 5:30 p.m. These days, it seems a birthday isn't a birthday if it's not photographically documented, complete with a caption on social media? While searching for a tribute pic of Savanna, I came across this one of her enjoying a book read by my dad. I cried. Dad was one of the kindest, gentlest men I've known. As the saying goes, a picture is worth 1,000 words. For me this one has more than 1,000. Maybe 10,000 words. One thing I remember about Savanna was the heaven scent of her warm, soft head. Hypnotically, that scrumptious aroma exudes through this image. My second baby, Diana, smelled delightfully delicious too…but Savanna oozed heaven scents. I imagine sweet, baby Jesus smelled the same way. Maybe it's a first-born thing. Thank you for reading and Merry Christmas everyone! Love, Shelley For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peach ~ Isaiah 9:6