My father keeps a 16-inch machete by his bed. For security purposes. He's done so ever since I was a little boy.
Not being into sword-like implements, but definitely into home security, I kept the tradition alive by keeping a bat next to my own bed: a good sized Louisville Slugger that I have named (with some help) the tati quieto stick (roughly translated: the shut-the- fuck-up stick). For a long time, I didn't actually have a homestead of my very own to defend.
But dig this, Daddy-o: The Betts and I have acquired an apartment. It is a decent little abode, near the top of Branch Brook Park on the borders of Belleville, Newark, and Bloomfield in New Jersey. It's not quite like living in the center of the Transportation Heaven that is Jersey City, but it'll do quite nicely. It's about a 10- minute Newark subway ride to my new home at Rutgers-Newark, and a 15-minute ride to the PATH and NJ Transit at Penn Station. Plus, there's a big-ass A&P across the street from me, so I get to practice my burgeoning cooking talents on the stove. Betts has a cookbook called The Ethnic Vegetarian which I intend to put to good use. Yeah that's right, I said it. Grilled vegetables, bitches! Plus, we'll have access to a good-sized backyard, so I'll likely fire up some grillage next summer if the heartier folks are cool with that.
Yes, folks, Jersey beckons. NYC, I got mad love for ya, but really, y'all can keep the crowds and the exorbitant fucking rent.
Now then...anybody got some houseplants?