Time to Wake Up and Smell New Jersey

I’m back.

A glorious California vacation ends in Newark airport. The inevitable letdown has its own smell: an unusual fishy/shrimpy odor on the I-78 connector to the Garden State Parkway, and two different skunk episodes in the suburbs on the way back to FirstNerve Manor.

Still, I can inwardly savor the food, drink and smellscapes of Sonoma, S.F., Berkeley, Coloma, Guerneville, Santa Cruz and the Yolo County Fair (don’t knock it—the Woodland FFA makes the world’s best tri-tip sandwich).

My home state is a paradise but it is coming apart at the seams.

I don’t want to dwell on that now.

Maybe later.