I realize that there is a down side to any place you choose to call home. Kansas has its whirly-winds, Arizona the moon like landscape and incredible heat, and I don't want to start in on ocean bound California, but I have picked two doozies.
I'm saving Florida for another time. I can't be bothered with little old ladies in huge Caddies without turn signals or brakes that don't function at red lights right now. I'm in the process of studying a phenomenon that may be peculiar to Wisconsin alone.
I should let you know that for most months out of the year I live here, and believe it to be one of the loveliest spots on the globe with the qualifying, but!
For all of the fair weather months, when the major highways are traveled by tourist, nearly every intersection is occupied by a large tent or permanent building packed full of explosives.
Don't get me wrong, I love fireworks. I have on more than one occasion trimmed my hair and eyebrows with gun powder. I loved lighting up the sky, particularly with rockets I had judiciously set aside for new years eve. There is a particular attraction by me of a burst of color reflected off new fallen snow.
That was until they issued the citation. Naive as I can be, I thoroughly miss-understood the concept of it being against the law, and so costly, to actually use a product that was so readily accessible.
When one considers the overall impact of this system it is quite ingenious. Our government representatives have devised a way to collect sales tax on a tantalizing product and also fill the state coffers by fining those of us stupid enough to fall into their insidious trap and light the stuff.
Of course I don't believe that makes our elected officials particularly smart, just very cunning.
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