Sweet Pepper vs. The Government

     As most of you know, I own a kayak. I got it last year at Menards and was enjoying myself very much until one day...

     I was talking with a friend about my kayak, which I affectionately dubbed Sweet Pepper. My friend said she had a kayak too, but that it wasn't registered.

     "Wait. Registered? For what?" I asked.

     "You have to have your kayak registered in Ohio, but you don't have to in Indiana," she said matter-of-factly.

     "Ha! You're kidding! What, seriously?" I chortled, hardly able to believe it.

     "Yea, for real. It's the rules," she reassured me.

     I couldn't believe it. Seriously?! Make someone register their KAYAK? This couldn't be real. So I went to the source of all knowledge--Google. Sure enough, you had to register your kayak AND pay to get it registered!!!!

     I was in shock. Then I was mad.

     The government obviously doesn't have a enough money from what they have already wrung from us in taxes, and they certainly don't have enough control over us either, so they decided to make adventure seekers register their canoes and kayaks.

     My thought is...where will this end? Will I need to register my bike? What about my rollarblades? Technically, they are a mode of transportation. Oh well, why stop there? Let's register our shoes too. Wouldn't want those little babies to go missing.

     What exactly do they expect me to do in my kayak anyway? I can see the scenario now...

     There I'll be, speeding through a lake at unprecedented speeds until the DNR catches up with me.

     "Take your hands OFF the paddle," comes a booming voice from a megaphone while they shine lights on me. "We have clocked you going 10 miles an hour in this lake with the wind, and that is illegal. We are going to have to give you a ticket, ma'm. Oh looky there, Frank, she doesn't have the little registration numbers on the side of her boat. It's not registered. This isn't looking good, ma'm. This isn't looking good."

     What are they gonna do? Stick me in jail?

     There I'll sit in CCNO with all the other inmates. After staring at each other for awhile, we'll get around to talking about why we're incarcerated.

    "What are you in for?" a gruff woman will ask another who has a hardened look about her.

     "Robbed a gas station," she sniffs with an arrogant air, proud of her attempt.

     "What about you? the woman asks a girl in her twenties.

     "Arson."

     "You?" she finally asks me.
 
     All eyes turn to look at me, and I cower under their gaze.

     I clear my throat trying to sound tough.

     "Didn't register my kayak," I squeak out.

     I'd also like to point out that people like Daniel Boon, Davy Crocket, and Lewis and Clark would have been on my side. I know this. They were pioneers and explorers, and if some little dude from the DNR came up to them and told them they had to register their canoes and rafts with the title office or else, I'm pretty sure, they would have gotten knocked in the head with the butt of a rifle and left to fend for themselves.

     I feel like I have several good arguments for why it is not right for us to be made to register our kayaks.  I generally am a law abiding citizen and I try to be conscientious in my taxes and work, but there comes a time when a patriot is pushed too far, and registering my kayak was that line. I refused.

     The topic came up again this spring as I've been thinking about going out kayaking again. My boyfriend and my parents thought differently than I did. They were of the opinion that I should obey the law. I gave Pop and Matt all my reasons, but they seem unconvinced and unimpressed.

     So how does this story end? Did I stick to my guns and end up getting fined? (Matt said he would have laughed at that). Did I cave and end up registering after all so that I was once again a law-abiding citizen?

     Well, I won't make you guess and wait until the next post. I'll tell you.

     I registered it. Ugh.

The Scarf

     My dearly beloved brother, Peter aka Joe, bought me a scarf in Thailand or one of those countries he visited when he was over in Taiwan. (He couldn't quite remember where he got it.) It's lovely with big chunky stitches, small sequins tastefully placed, and it's a nice tan color that goes with a lot. The only thing is, it's rather large. By large, I mean large. I'm not that big of a person. At least height wise. Width wise is debatable. Anyway, moving on...

     Sheer intimidation and a tinge of laziness had kept me trying out the Pete's gift this year, but after a fruitful trip to Goodwill, I was feeling ready to take on The Scarf. I had just purchased a tan and white striped shirt that it would go well with, so I tried it on.

     "Kinda looks like a yoke," Mom said when I wrapped it around my neck twice. Kinda felt like a yoke too. I'm pretty sure I could have lost my cell phone in there or maybe a small sandwich.

     I fiddled and fumbled with The Scarf but couldn't come up with a good way for me to still be visible underneath it. That's when I brought Joe onto the scene.

    In my opinion, Joe is the expert on tying things. He looks up websites and youtube videos on how to tie scarves and ties, and then he applies his knowledge to his own wardrobe or helps others' with theirs as was the case this particular day.

     He wrapped and fiddled and finally got The Scarf downsized enough for me to look out and for my shirt to be seen underneath it. We were headed in the right direction.

     I decided to wear it to Defiance to have coffee with a friend, and after awhile, I began to realize my neck was hurting. The Scarf just kept on giving because on the way home, my lap felt really warm and I looked down to see that The Scarf had pooled on my legs, acting as an insulating blanket. Let's just say that if Sweet Char had gotten stuck in the ditch that night, I would have been nice and toasty and had room for two more adults and one small child.
     
     As the cold winter continues, more adventures with The Scarf might be inevitable.