A special day for those of us who were fortunate enough to come home to remember those who didn’t.

May they rest in peace.

Well, by “Home,” I mean New Jersey, the true definition of “home,” being ambiguous, what with all the running back and forth between the House by the Parkway North and the House by the Parkway South. Anyway, as I try to jumpstart my cruller and slowly and very painfully begin reading news again, I thought I’d jot down some random brain windage:

1. After spending two weeks in beautiful, almost-always-sunny Southwest Florida, returning to dreary, overcast New Jersey was a real stinker. The culture shock begins in earnest upon entering the Newark Airport Terminal. I suppose if one flew in from Somalia, Newark Airport might look good, but arriving from Fort Myers Airport, not so much. Compared to the brightly lit open spaces of the Fort Myers Airport, the Newark Terminal was dismal and populated by legions of troglodytes. Welcome home.

2. As nice as the Fort Myers Airport is, The Original Bill was not happy with the lack of exactitude with respect to the signage to direct us to the place where rental cars are returned: ”F**kin’ airports! They’re only there to drive everyone f**kin’ crazy.” I love The Original Bill.

3. The cab ride from the airport to the House by the Parkway (North) was quite an experience. We shared a cab with our friends and fellow travelers, The Original Bill and Sinister Linda. Our luggage took up all the space in the trunk, so The Original Bill, Sinister Linda and Mrs. Parkway sat in the back seat (with my guitar across their laps), and I rode shotgun next to the cabby, who was a moderately unfriendly Haitian guy, and, who, in order to get us delivered and back in the taxi line as soon as possible, drove like a farookin’ fighter pilot. In order to get into my seat (which was covered with a few newspapers), I had to shuffle my feet through the detritus that had accumulated on the floor of the cab. Welcome home.

4. I didn’t realize how much I missed Mr. Recliner until a plopped my ass in it and promptly fell asleep while “watching” television. A special place will be made for Mr. Recliner in the House by the Parkway South. That’s non-negotiable.

5. A couple Peeps in comments asked for a status report on the repairs being done to my beloved Gibson Dreadnaught by the Gibson folks in Nashville. As I thought might happen, the work was completed a day or two before we were about to leave for Florida. Knowing that I would not be home when the guitar would be delivered, I contacted the Gibson folks and asked that they ship the guitar to my sister-in-law’s house, which is very close to the House by the Parkway South. I was advised that it arrived at her house the day we arrived in Florida. I am anxiously waiting to reunite with it next week, and I’ll share the deets and maybe even a photo.

6. I am happy to report that I did not see any alligators while in Florida. However; that is not all that surprising, because while I’m there, I don’t go near any fresh water that doesn’t come from a tap.

That’s about it. I have to ease back in to all this.

Groundpounds have to be taken early in the morning around these parts, before the killer heat kicks in.

The colors are a bit off, but, hey, it’s a farookin’ cell phone pic.

I’m still managing to get through the day with a minimum of news, which is a good thing.

Later, Peeps.

No wonder I haven’t been blogging.

Well, one week of the vacation is over, and the bulk of the Usual Suspects winged it back to Jersey today. We joined them for breakfast at our regular pre-airport breakfast place, and it was more than a little sad to see them head off to fly home. We’ve always done this place as a group.

We are now here with The Original Bill and Sinister Linda, along with some excellent peeps from Washington State who we who have come to know over the years. I expect we’ll have a great week, which will include cocktails (surprise!) and lots of relaxing, and maybe even a bit of guitar picking.

Anyway, because I have essentially put my mind in neutral, I have decided to simply share some of the thoughts of The Original Bill, who is quite possibly the best on-the-fly cook on the planet and who is a guy who has always has an opinion or ten about things, which he doesn’t mind sharing. Here are a couple from just today:

On the Men’s Room at the Breakfast Place: “Men’s rooms at places that serve breakfast always smell like shit. It doesn’t matter how clean they are; they always smell like shit. That’s because women never shit outside the house, but men can shit anywhere. It’s a rule.”

On Beaches: “The sand is f**king important. I hate that grainy shit. The sand in Cape May is that grainy shit. I like Point Pleasant sand much better. It’s not that grainy shit. Besides, you’re not really at the beach unless you can see a Ferris wheel.”

I’ll keep my ears open, as I suspect there will be more to come.

Yes, Peeps, it is again that time of the year when the Usual Suspects descend upon the Southwest Coast of the Sunshine State. As usual, our first stop will be the liquor store for the important supplies, where we always put a big smile on the owner’s face as he puts his cash register into high gear. After that, we stop at the supermarket (A Publix – nice. We don’t have them in Jersey) for other less-essential provisions. About an hour later, after the unpacking is complete, the party begins.

As in past years, we will get to see folks from all over the country (from as far away as Washington State) who have become our friends (and honorary Garden Staters) over the years. I’ll be bringing one of the “road guitars” and, for the first time, Mr. Computer, as I understand our place now has wifi. I don’t know how much time I’ll get to spend with Mr. Computer (I try to avoid too much “news” while we’re there), but we’ll see.

Also, as in the past, I will be avoiding any body of fresh water (other than the swimming pool) that is bigger than, say, my foot. Farookin’ gators. Yeef!

So, if I seem to drop off the scope at times (or completely) for the next two weeks, you’ll know why.

Here we have the Speaker of the House of Representatives, who took an oath to protect and defend the Constitution, telling illegal aliens that they are “very, very patriotic” and that those who believe that legal immigration should be encouraged and that the immigration laws should be enforced are “un-American.”

People actually vote for this wretched slug.

Over the past few weeks, newcomers to this humble site have stumbled upon and read one or two of the Army stories and asked me how to find the other ones. I provided a link that I thought would direct them to all of them, only to realize that the links were taking them nowhere. I presume this was a result of a change in blogging software back then, but I’m not sure.

In any event, I fixed the link, but for those who asked and got bad information, I have listed links to the stories below. I had fun writing them. Enjoy.

Greeting.

Army Underwear.

“You Must Have Cheated!”

Test Day. The Sergeant, and the Wannabe “Remington Raider.

Army Glasses.

Night Infiltration and the Pathetic Mondo Kane Turtle.

A.W.O.L.

Vertical Butt Stroke.

Sick Call.

K.P., The Great Lie, and the Potato Mountain.

Fort Dix Quickies.

Spit, Polish, Graduation, and Orders.

Fort Holabird or the Twilight Zone?

Have you checked out the Pondering ……. Store recently?

No? Tsk..tsk.

I am the proud owner of one of the tee shirts and one of the mugs (the one pictured above). I am particularly fond of the heft, shape and size of the mug. It holds a mondo cuppa, but at the same time it is not a cabinet hog when it is “off duty.”

Go now to the Pondering Store and check out all the good things. I have my eye on one of those cool lids.

You should pay a visit, if for no other reason, than Jean, who runs the place, is good peeps and a poetess extraordinaire. She’s giving this a go, and I would appreciate it if you’d take a look at her stuff.