Yesterday, Feb.3, did it’s fair share to take the ouch out of returning to the Garden State from Florida.

No, I won’t get used to it, but it was sweet while it lasted. Sitting out on the Writer’s Perch in the warm sunshine was the plum, the piece de resistans .

I shudder to sing the praises of this fairness in February for fear of being accused ignorant of global warming. But, what am I to do ? There is no Writer’s Perch in my freezer, so kindly pardon my opting to not sit in there.

In the meantime, I basked in the luxuriant February sunshine. Eat your heart out, Florida. Who needs the Gulf of Mexico when there is Tuckaway Pond ?

Sometimes the SuperBowl lives up to its billing with a great game. Sometimes it doesn’t. There was no question, though, about yesterday’s game . It was spectacular.

There was only one loser: the halftime show. It wasn’t as though the performers weren’t talented. It wasn’t as though the dancers didn’t give it there all. They did.

” There all”, however, was a bit much.

Every gyration overtly suggestive. Every pelvic thrust leaving no question. Even facial expressions of experienced effeminate provocateurs.

What the heck are we teaching our kids ? Borderline pornography at halftime; what a tradition !

I’d love to know how many kids, say from age 17 down, were tuned into yesterday’s halftime show. How many millions ?

Is this a legacy to be proud of ?

The question has perplexed Mankind for the history of time .

What exactly happens when a Woodchuck chuck chucks wood ?

Does anyone REALLY know ? OR is it simply one of mans’ conjured vagaries that has vexed him for centuries on end ?

Who will ever know ?

If you’ve read my MEMOIRS book, you will know that I don’t have a laudable history with groundhogs . That’s an un-proud fact that I’ll just have to live with. No, I fear that I’ll take that one to my grave which, as fate may well have it, could be riddled by groundhogs.

But enough with moribund thoughts.

Do understand that it is in the interest of horses that my record is blemished in the groundhog community.

Or, was that in my second book ? My wizened mind struggles to recall.

Here’s another plaguing question: How did the groundhog become the Woodchuck ?

Are they not contradicting terms ? Does a groundhog really chuck wood ? Was there at one time a groundhog conspiracy in Punxsutawney?

One of our neighbors throws a Groundhog Day shindig annually. It is very well-attended by some of the most inspired intellectuals for miles around. The bash was last night. One might think, with all of this brain power in one room, that progress would be made on these weighty questions.

But NO. Those answers are still underground.

At the time of this writing we are 32,000 feet in the air. Yes, you may assume snugly seated on an airplane. Destination: Trenton/Mercer Airport.

For everyone’s information, the captain has turned off the “Fasten seatbelt” sign. This does not mean that I am about to attempt an inverted pike hang in the aisle. He’s turned that sign off, then back on again twice already in ThuSt flight.

In fact, we’re sttTill experiencing tturblents. To te pernt where he neezit back on Agin. This haas to be flusTratng to appppilot, I wood thInk.

Wee jusT heet mother air ppppocket and now he turnz thesine back on !

Ifff this d uzzent sterp , I’ll have to go thee ccccockpt and complianedd.

Whew ! And just like nothing, we’re smoothed out.

Good thing. Passengers seem to be settling down.

The Captain assures all that we’ll be landing shortly. We’re beginning our descent.

We can only hope that his target is the runway .

Remarkable, don’t you think? I was able to just keep typing through the whole thing, almost like nothing happened.

What a great month in Nipples, Florida.

Until next Winter, that is.

The old order changes. In the blink of an eye, tomorrow will be departure time. The sweetness of Naples weather, the soothing whisper of the waves will all give way to the vicissitudes of another Jersey winter.

Yes, it is cold. Yes, there will be snow. There will be rain, maybe freezing. The long lane will need ploughing, pothole filling and other exercises that lend to our ruddiness. But, as my old buddy R.W. Emerson once said, “There is always some great leveling circumstance “.

Winter roars. Winter resigns. A sweet Spring is ready in wait and Nature’s order holds sway.

The writer’s perch will lend its view. The peepers will sing their song.

The writer, with luck, will lapse into verse, intent to capture another season in green.We’ll see what lands on the page!

If any good might possibly come of the tragic demise of Kobe Bryant, it will be the second thought that any pilot has about flying because of highly unfavorable conditions, and, of course, his memory of this incident that would counter his intent to fly.

I am recalling August 1, 1963. I was finishing chores after milking. The early morning fog was thick as pea soup there on the farm.

This ten year old boy well knew that the plane he heard laboring above him had no business being up there. But it was.

Then, at woods edge, the ripping of metal, the roar of the engine and an explosion heard round the countryside. All could have been prevented by simply NOT flying.

Kobe, with any luck, your’s was fast and clean, void of the horror that has to attend such an occurrence. May you and your young one Rest In Peace. May God comfort your wife and family.

Again, the question is evoked. What possible sense is to be made of flying in such weather?

JUST DON’T DO IT.

It was standard protocol with the renowned Vince Lombardi, former coach of the Green Bay Packers. Whatever your appointment, for whatever purpose, regardless of the scheduled time… be there 15 minutes early. Period ! Always be there 15 minutes early.

In our household, we don’t subscribe to this nonsense. We have our own protocol. It’s called Judy Tucker Time. Be there 1 & 1/2 hours early… always. Regardless.

We’re on our way this morning back to Naples, Florida. We awoke at 0 – dark thirty to get to Trenton/Mercer Airport. Mind you. This is not Newark or JFK or La Guardia.

How could we decipher that ? Easy. They didn’t have their lights on yet, but we could still read with our car headlights.

Do note: They did have an airplane. Yes. Singular.

But, I could wipe the sweat off my brow. Painted on the side of the plane: FRONTIER

Hallelujah! Ours was a Frontier flight, as if by miracle. We made it !

All we’d have to do now is hurry up and wait. You know, we are on Judy Tucker Time !

Old- fashioned ? I suppose it is. We are all close neighbors, close in a couple of ways . Each of our homes are within comfortable horse and buggy distance to the others. That’s old-fashioned, isn’t it?

We’re all close friends. We all came to know each other, way back when, through horses in one way or another.

We all gathered last night at one of our homes to play cards. How’s that for old-fashioned ? No television. Nothing electronic, with the exception of light and heat. Surely, no video games. No one futzed with their cell phone.

Just cards and exuberant conversation. The hilarity with this group becomes infectious. Sooner, rather than later, the laughter reaches a decibel level, challenging even to those not hard of hearing. Call me odd man out.

It’s not as though we play some abstruse card game, not even poker or gin rummy. Given the aforementioned laughter level, you might guess otherwise, but we play a game that even knuckleheads can comprehend. It’s called PASS THE ACE. It’s so easy, a cave man can do it.

Players have no “hand”, rather a single card rendered by the dealer to each at the table. An Ace is your adversary. Get rid of it , if at all possible. Even get rid of cards of lesser value than the Ace, in immediate descending order. BUT, King you wish to keep. A Queen, a Jack, a Ten, a Nine… get did of them.

O.K. Commence game: You, with your single card , when it’s your turn, have the option to keep your card OR pass it to the player on your left. If you pass it, however, you must take the card of the person to whom you’ve just given yours.

(All cards are face down.)

Remember, if your card is the Ace, pass it ! Remember also, descending order is your friend. If your card is a Two, don’t pass it. If you have a Queen, by all means, pass her to the player on your left.

You do not pass your King. Possession of it precludes any player’s right to pass their card to you. (No sexist inference is intended here.) Queens just rank too highly for this game.

As the game progresses, inevitable reality sets in : what goes around, comes around. Now the person next to you, to your right, is passing to the person on their left… you.

They may have the dreaded Ace, maybe a Queen, maybe even a Ten; not advantageous cards.

Have I managed to confuse you at all ? I hope so. Normally, a general state of delirium is what we’re after.

A bit of reaction was stirred with yesterday’s blog about country song lyrics.

Bob Berger in Livermore, California first reminded me that there are two types of music: There is Country and then there is Western.

In his enthusiasm, Bob forwarded a few videos of bygone concerts featuring Roger Miller, Johnny Cash, Porter Wagoner. Thank you, Bob, for your unbridled ardency. Johnny Cash will always be the man !

Bob even threw in some lyrics of his own choosing, advising me to be cautious of their sensitive nature :

Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in bed.

This Women’s Liberation has gone straight to your head.

Then there was this:

Now the air is dirty And sex is clean

But your coffee makes my hair turn green !

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

Having had to return home for a wedding (no, not mine) we’ll be back off to Naples in a few days. Hallelujah! It’s plain old cold up here !

A while ago, needing entertainment, I endeavored to write down some ‘one-liners’ from country songs that were whimsical or clever in some way.

My thinking was that some day down the road, a conversation would ensue wherein such a collection would be handy. After all, dear reader, how many times do you hear a lyric in a tune, especially country, that is so witty that you felt compelled to remember it ? You could use that one some day !

In fact, the other night, a conversation progressed that reminded me of the list I had once compiled.

I grabbed my IPad and voila, to the delight of those assembled, a compendium of quotes was randomly voiced.

Full Disclosure: Country music is occasionally crass, maudlin, even off-color. So, if your ears are virgin, you should maybe be veerin’ !

Herewith: A few of the lines I noted:

— Ain’t got time for kissin’ you, My mule done run away.

— She got the gold mine, And I got the shaft.

— She got the ring, And I got the finger.

— When the phone don’t ring, You’ll know it’s me.

— How can I get over you, When you’re still under him ?

— Well I bought the Hope Diamond, Just hopin’ you’d shut your mouth.

— I woke up Sunday morning, With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.

— When it rains down sorrow, It pours all over me.

Surely YOU know some good ones ! Kindly share one or two with me if you don’t mind being credited on this world-renowned blog.

Thank you in advance.