The complicated Utah DMV documents for registering a vehicle are next to a tax statement for brine shrimp revenues. In Mendocino County, CA my local post office warned that it was illegal to send pot via US mail. The local grocery boasted a sign stating “no wetsuits in store.”
In Utah, it seems owners of a passenger car need to pay 1% to 1.5% of its value every year it’s owned by the taxpayer. I still have no idea what they’ll do to us on sales tax from MN as that’s where we got my husband’s “new” car. We’d love the weather in California but they are in a bad financial state. Texas, who knows? I’d hate to think we’d move just for auto fees. All we wanted to do is be safe. All-wheel drive, snow tires, good brakes. Don’t fall off the mountain is our mantra.
It seems we’ve been out of the loop in regard to Sundance, two months late for “locals” to actually be able to get tickets. If “local” is a pejorative term around here, lessee is worse. It appears we are the worst of the worst. I’d rather be the worst of the Wurst as I’m reading Daniel Sax’s “Save The Deli,” the first two chapters have me hooked, and not on gefiltefish. I can’t wait until he reveals where I can find good deli out west. No, I’m not going to skip to that chapter. Life is a journey, ok with sour pickles and mustard and smoked meats. On Rye. No white bread or mayonnaise or butter. Latkes. Matzo ball soup. Oy vey! Give me a deli! Dee
Cooking with Dee 