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.