|Jackson doing air guitar|
|Cy rides the buggy|
Even the coffee place at the corner, JimTown Store, was perfectly vintagely cream and Waltons green... without John-Boy's whiny voice.
In fact there was no whining all weekend. Okay, bit of an exaggeration but dang close - see you even start talking like John-Boy when you eat watermelon candy and play jumping beans near a hot tin roof.
I had another "spa" experience a couple of weekends ago when our bookclub met at Jean's house in Sonoma. Her new home amongst the olive groves was a mix of soothing and stimulating with concrete floors and counter-tops, handmade wooden tables and bold oil paintings.
And it turns out that, yes, literary critical skills are absolutely sharpened with your toes in the pool and a chilled one in your hand.
What was your spa moment this weekend?