Dairyland Delicacies: Frozen Custard

I love ice cream, always have. I dread the day my children are tall enough to peer into the freezer and see Healthy Choice Cookies & Cream hidden behind their waffles. If they had any idea the amount of frozen treats consumed in our house after they went to bed, they would seek legal emancipation…and rightly so.

Our first apartment in Wisconsin was located across the street from a Culver’s where the custard flavor of the day is posted daily on its sign. We were thrilled! We posted the Culver’s calendar of flavors on our fridge, but by the end of the first summer, the custard novelty had worn off and we craved REAL ice cream.

For those that may not be familiar, frozen custard is a creamier variation of soft-serve ice cream. There’s not much to it. Like soft-serve, custard doesn’t really have much texture. It’s like eating a frozen lump of whole milk with sugar. Please note that if you are having custard for the first time, eat a small serving. It can wreak havoc on the digestive system if you’re not used to it!

When I saw Andes Candies featured as the flavor of the day, I envisioned ribbons of chocolate and mint custard woven delicately together, but was disappointed to receive bland vanilla custard with crumbled Andres Candies mixed it.

Real ice cream, surprisingly, is difficult to find in America’s Dairyland unless you hit tourist areas like Door County or the Dells. When I was pregnant with our oldest child in 2001, we traveled Milwaukee County looking for real ice cream only to find Dairy Queen, Kopp's Custard, and a few closed Baskin Robbins. I was even willing to drive back to the Southside of Chicago for a rainbow cone or to visit The Plush Horse or Gertie's.

By the time we were expecting our daughter in 2004, there were TWO ice cream shops in Oak Creek. But my son, nearly three at the time, did not like ice cream (“Too cold!”) and I feared looking like a bad mom eating ice cream in front of my sobbing toddler. Strangers would assume he was crying because I wouldn’t share, not realizing his tears were because I was eating something of an unsafe temperature.

If we are stopping for a treat after school, I will give my kids the two options at Howell and Drexel: custard from Culver’s or a Wendy’s frosty. I know this is disappointing to my Wisconsin friends, but they always choose the frosty.

My final thoughts on frozen custard: edible, but highly overrated, and not a suitable replacement for a scoop of old-fashioned, hand-dipped ice cream full of texture and flavor!

I Survived Wisconsin Dells, Epilogue

Once again, my friend Brigitte did some research on behalf of this blog. She sent me a link trying to reassure me (and herself) that I was not tasting sweat in the wave pool at the Wilderness Resort. But as I thought about this information, two things stuck out:


1) the water is LESS chlorinated than regular pools.

2) the water is recycled more frequently.


To me, that equals more sweat. (And I'm not even entertaining the thought of other fluids.) And it doesn't help that this article compares wave pools and toilets in terms of engineering.

I also spent/wasted a decent amount of time googling "salty wave pool" and found epinions and blog entries that confirmed that I am not the only person to notice a salty taste in a wave pool. Most writers believed it to be sweat. I also learned that chlorine = chloride = salt, so my brain is attempting to cling to a more scientific, less disgusting reason for the taste.

But maybe I was tasting my sweat. That's not so bad, I guess. Let's just hope whatever small amount of chlorine that was in the wave pool killed any potential swine flu germs.

***
This blog, although not afraid to ask the hard questions in life such as "Am I tasting sweat?," will now return to its primary mission of exploring Wisconsin culture.

I Survived Wisconsin Dells, Part 2

Let me first explain that we had a great time in the Dells, even though Part 1 of this blog entry was less than complimentary. See, readers would be bored to tears if I just talked about how wonderful our vacation was. There's nothing entertaining about "happily ever after."

I also want to thank my friend Brigitte for schooling me on the Wisconsin Ducks. These boats are so named because they can go from water to land. That's kinda cool. I do wish we had a chance to go on a duck ride. Maybe next time.

Here are some additional observations about Wisconsin Dells:

We saw a billboard for a gentleman's club named "Wisconsin Dolls." Again, classy!

A sign at the tattoo shop said something to the effect that they do not tattoo anyone who is under the influence of drugs or alcohol, SO DON'T EVEN ASK. I really wanted to take a picture of the sign, but there was a surly bald man working in the store and I didn't want to explain myself.

We went to Pizza Pub for dinner per recommendation of my seven-year-old son who remembered eating there on a summer camp field trip. I was impressed by their billboard that boasted "more than 50 items on our salad bar." I was disappointed to see that those items did not include fresh fruit. As I looked at their prepared salad selection, a potato salad caught my eye. The potato appeared to be sliced, not cubed. I am glad I read the sign on the salad bar before putting some on my plate. It was herring!

The worst part about our trip to the Dells really had nothing to do with Wisconsin, but rather my own squeamishness over a certain part of the human body: feet. I tried my hardest not to look directly at all the bare feet in the water park, lest I lost my lunch. I came face-to-foot with some kid's feet in the wave pool as he cruised the water on an inner tube. I have to say that after several days in the water, my own feet are ready for sandals. I guess the surface of the pools works as well as a pedicure. Maybe even as good as a live fish pedicure. Ewww.

As promised, I have a story about the wave pool at the Wilderness Resort. While my husband and son tackled the water slides, my four-year-old daughter and I headed to the wave pool. She loved it right away. We spent most of our time in water that was about 30 inches deep which required me to squat most of the time. (My legs have a new found respect for MLB catchers!) After an hour or so, the boys caught up with us and I asked me husband a question I had been pondering.

"This water doesn't seem to have that chlorine taste to it. It wouldn't be a salt water pool, would it?"

My husband dipped his fingers in the water, tasted, shook his head, and answered, "Jen, I think you're tasting other people's sweat."

I'm still gagging at that one. But if any reader has insider information about the water content of wave pools, I would love to hear from you.

I Survived Wisconsin Dells, Part I

Question: Where can you find a two-story replica of the Trojan Horse, an upside down model of the White House, endless buffets, and enough tourist traps to make Vegas blush?
Answer: The Dells, baby!

Refined, tasteful, and subtle – these words have never been used to describe Wisconsin Dells. We went in off-season, so the outdoor water parks were closed and only about half of the neon lights were lit in the evening. It was the perfect time to really take in the culture of the Dells without being irritated by the crowds. Eric and I had actually prided ourselves on living 42 and 37 years respectively without setting foot in the Dells. But when our Disney Easter vacation dreams crashed with the economy, we decided to spend three nights in the Dells. Upon arriving, we were reminded of other craptacular tourist places such as Gatlinburg, TN and Estes Park, CO.

As with the peanuts at any ballpark, remember that they are always “cheaper on the outside.” Salt-water taffy costs $11.99 per pound at Goody Goody Gum Drops in Wisconsin Dells. That same taffy costs $4.98 per pound at Ehlenbach’s Cheese Store just 25 miles south of the Dells. This is where I discovered my culinary passion in life: buttered popcorn flavored salt-water taffy.

Why are boats in the Dells called ducks? They don’t look like ducks, walk like duck, or sound like ducks.

We stopped at an Indian Trading Post (err, crappy tourist souvenir shop) to peruse the local artifacts. Among the items on display: a confederate flag, fuzzy toy ponies, an alarmingly large selection of cowboy and Indian toy weapons (including pink toy guns), and an assortment of shot glasses and t-shirts using humorous variations on the term “cutting the cheese.” My son, to my horror, purchased a pop can cozy in bright cheesy yellow that declared the owner to be a “genuine, authentic cheesehead.” Sigh. But there’s no denying it, he was born in Wisconsin.

At the Wilderness Resort, I witnessed a great deal of tattoos, none of which was impressive. Most noteworthy were two pre-teen girls embellished with presumably temporary tattoos right above their tailbones. That’s right, tramp stamps for ten year olds. Say it with me: Classy!

I was surprised at the number of tourists from Chicago at the Wilderness (based on the number of Illinois license plates in the parking lot and display of Sox, Bears, and Cubs apparel.) Growing up, I had heard of the Dells, but didn’t really know anyone who went there.

The Wilderness charges criminal prices for food. I ate a $9 BLT sandwich for dinner on Friday. I am going to assert that it was the best BLT I have ever eaten; otherwise, I’m just a tourist who paid for overpriced food. It all balances out. I realized, after we arrived at home, that I had packed away an unintentional souvenir: a Wilderness Resort pool towel. Oops!

In Part 2, I will share my personal horror of the wave pool…

Round & Round

This past weekend, I was out of commission with strep throat, which was bad for two reasons: 1) I couldn’t blog and 2) I had to miss my girls’ weekend “Up North.” I was so ready to take good notes and photos for the sake of this blog. Nevertheless, I am embarking on my first trip to Wisconsin Dells in two weeks, so I am sure to plenty of Wisconsin culture to share.

I did venture out on Saturday (just to the emergency room at the new Franklin hospital), and along the way I encountered a topic I had planned to write about: the roundabout.

The roundabout is a relatively new phenomenon in suburban Milwaukee. City planners love them, drivers hate them. Many words have been written on the subject recently. The Franklin hospital has one on its campus, for inexplicable reasons. It may have been my fever or the snow, but I swear it wasn’t even an intersection. It was a roundabout for roundabout’s sake.

So what is a roundabout? Perhaps you may already know it by a different name: the traffic circle. My husband also offers the word “rotary” from the time he spent in graduate school on the east coast.* I think the term “roundabout” is more suited for a gymnastics move or some rare colloquialism, but not a serious word for modern infrastructure. And look at the sign for the roundabout -- what is this telling me? Slow down, it's time to recycle?

Actually, I don’t think I even knew of such intersection madness until I was in my late 20s and had the misfortune of driving through Des Plaines, IL. The Cumberland Circle, affectionately known as Suicide Circle, is an anomaly in Chicagoland. It was so unexpected; I cannot imagine how I even maneuvered through it. Please correct me if I am wrong, but I can’t recall any such beast on the Southside.

Traffic circles have recently become en vogue in southeastern Wisconsin with New Berlin housing two additions (with one being at the end of an expressway exit ramp.) And just last week, the Department of Transportation supported a plan to create a corridor of roundabouts on 27th Street, just a few minutes from my home. Note the word “corridor” – it means they want to replace TWELVE stoplights with roundabouts. That is SIX MILES of roundabouts. I would be trapped in my subdivision!

Apparently, studies show that traffic circles are safer and quicker alternatives to traffic lights and stop signs. The only reason they may seem safer is that people are so freaked out about driving through a roundabout that they have a death grip on the wheel as they move along at 10 miles per hour. And quicker? Who cares about quicker? I now view stoplights as brief opportunities to check Facebook on my BlackBerry. I’m not in any hurry.

I hope the DOT does an about face on their roundabout idea. And even if they called them traffic circles, the term I prefer, I don’t think I’d like them any better.

*Yes, I am aware that there are technical differences between a roundabout and a traffic circle or rotary. I’m not interested in those details. When other people (and you know who you are), start to use “you’re/your” and “it’s/its” correctly, then perhaps I could be persuaded to care about the differences in controlled intersections, mmkay?

Random Thoughts from the Badger State

1. Only in Wisconsin can you find such thorough analysis of accident statistics. Was anyone surprised at the following headline in today's Milwaukee Journal Sentinel?
Alcohol cited in many snowmobile fatalities

2. Although I haven’t been to Summerfest since 2002, I am going to safely assume that the quality of the musical guests has declined sharply in the last seven years. Today I received a “newsflash” email from Summerfest informing me that Chicago and Earth, Wind, & Fire would be headlining the Marcus Amphitheater. Don’t you think these performers would be more appropriately found at a side stage? At the Walworth County fair?

3. I am embarrassed by the number of years it took me to realize that the Historic Third Ward and Old World Third Street areas of Milwaukee were not one and the same. In my defense, I wasn’t working in the city at the time.

4. And then there’s this guy, proving again that common sense is not all that common.

5. Casimir Pulaski was a Polish-born Revolutationary war hero who has schools, counties, and streets named after him throughout the midwest. Illinois even celerbates Casimir Pulaski Day, a state holiday, on the first Monday in March. I wonder why is it that in Chicago, we say pull-ass-key, but in Milwaukee they say pull-ahhh-ski?

So, DUH! It's Time for Pop Culture!

During the first week of my new job in 2002, my coworker (let's call him “Mike”), struck up a conversation with me. Knowing Mike as well as I do now, I can only assume we were comparing our caffeine intake habits. I probably said something about that fact that I don’t like coffee, but I do drink pop. I will never forget Mike’s reaction:

“Are you from Sheboygan?”

I was aghast. Shocked. Speechless.

Did this person actually think I was from Sheboygan or was this some sort of Cheesehead slur?

By the look on his face, I realized he was questioning my hometown! Another wave of revulsion came over me.

Couldn’t he see that I was more “deep dish pizza and the White Sox” than “bratwurst and snowmobiling?” That I was more “Southside” than “Up North?” Was I starting to assimilate into this culture? Was my entire Chicago attitude fading away?

After I set Mike straight with some response that surely included eye rolling and the words "let me tell you somethin'," “southside,” “Chicago,” and “temporary resident of Wisconsin,” I realized he was challenging my use of the word “pop.”

Apparently, Milwaukeeans like to use the term “soda” when referring to carbonated beverages, but they are misguided. Soda is a type of pop. Specifically, "cream soda” and “soda water” (seltzer) are varieties of pop. I know people like to ride the fence by using the term “soda pop” but that’s like saying you’re neither a Sox fan nor a Cubs fan, but rather a Chicago fan. Nope, not possible. Pick one side and jump off the fence.

My use of “pop” really, really bothers many Milwaukeeans, much to my delight. I recall a standoff at the Oak Creek Lions Fest one Labor Day weekend. I asked one counter person where I could buy a “pop.” He gave me a look like “Yer not from around here…” and pointed to the bar area and told me that I could find “soda” over there. And I said, “Thanks. I really need some POP.”

Of course when I got to the bar, I realized they were only serving Black Bear products, which are made right here in Oak Creek, WI. Now, I generally try to support local businesses, but this stuff is…well, let's just say I don’t care for it. My husband and son will drink it, but I refuse.

My daughter, who doesn’t like carbonation, and my son will slip and say soda because that’s what their friends say. We’re working on correcting them, but sometimes it seems futile as they were both born in Milwaukee and have been surrounded by Wisconsin culture their whole lives.

To me, it’s pop. It was pop when my parents would buy 8 packs of Pepsi in glass bottles and return the empties to the Jewel. You had to drink the whole bottle in one sitting or else it would go flat in a few hours. (But you would never drink from the bottle. That would be trashy.) It was pop when I mixed it with schnapps and drank it in the woods as a teenager. And it’s a big fountain pop that I need every weekday morning on my drive into work.

Don’t hassle me about it. I call it pop and I probably always will. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I am a long-term resident of the state.

(And I know there is a whole segment of the population that says "Coke" for everything. No one does that here. That's just silly. For futher research on this subject, check out the Pop vs. Soda map. Or just google Pop vs. Soda. There is an alarming amount of research on this devisive subject.)

Jen’s Top 5 Wacky Infrastructure List!

These five things took me a long time to understand and accept:

1) The grid for Milwaukee is wrong. The numbered streets run east/west in Chicago, but here they run north/south. It took me a long time to get used to this.

2) One Chicago block equals two Milwaukee blocks. This took some time to figure out. In Chicago, driving from 16th Street to 79th Street would take forever. I can drive from 13th Street to 76th Street in less than 10 minutes. Chicago does the crazy thing of double numbering their streets: 95th Street, 95th Place, 94th Street, 94th Place. That was always confusing. Maybe Milwaukee has it right…

3) U-turns are commonplace and legal. One of my favorite things about Milwaukee is that the city and suburbs are full of boulevards. A boulevard is a wide street divided by a median usually featuring landscaping. (I provide this definition for those of you who, like me, were not aware that the term boulevard is more than a fancy name for a road.) These wonderful, scenic boulevards are found throughout the Milwaukee area and necessitate u-turns in order to reach one’s destination.

4) Much of the Lakefront is poorly utilized. When I last lived in Chicago, I was on Loyola’s campus in Rogers Park, right on the Lake where Sheridan curves west. After that, we lived in Lake Forest, just a five-minute walk to the Lake. I was accustomed to the Lake being a reliable source of beauty and recreation. When we started exploring Milwaukee and Oak Creek, we were very disappointed in how inaccessible the Lake was. Much of the lakefront on the southside is used for industrial or utility purposes. Driving over the Hoan Bridge, as I did today, the view of the distance of the lake is breathtaking, but the sight of the lakeshore itself is…notsomuch. Fortunately, the Lakefront is inviting and beautiful the further north you travel, so all is not lost.

5) The general community does not embrace public transportation. I think Chicagoans take their excellent public transportation system for granted. I know I didn’t appreciate it as much until we moved to Milwaukee. There is a bus system…and Amtrak. My husband rode the freeway flyer bus to the courthouse downtown for the first few years we lived here. People thought he was either eccentric or had his driver’s license revoked. Why else would anyone CHOOSE to take the bus? There are two rail options to get to Chicago, Amtrak or the Metra from Kenosha. Neither is desirable. This topic sparks some heated debate in Wisconsin political and business communities, so I’ll just leave it that my family strongly supports light rail in southeast Wisconsin.

Once in a Lifetime

Wisconsin Lexicon #3

once (adverb): quickly; for a short amount of time.

“C’mere once!” or “Lemme see dat once.”

I was really confused when “once” was directed at me for the first time. I believe a friend was asking me to give her something in my possession. "Jen, lemme see your ruler once.”

At first, I thought it was a limiting term and was reminded of The Godfather when Michael says to Kay, "Enough! Alright. This one time, this one time I'll let you ask me about my affairs...”

The Wisconsin version would be:

"Lemme see dat once, but for the love for God, no matter how much I beg, do not – I repeat – do not let me see dat twice!”

I soon realized that "once" was a way to qualify the amount of time you want the person or item in your close proximity.

“Once” can also be used as an offer of help. You could use this phrase “Lemme see dat once” can be used to extend assistance to someone deciphering illegible handwriting or someone trying to open a new jar of pickles. To a child struggling with a jacket zipper, the phrase “C’mere once.” indicates that the parent will zip the jacket for the child.

My unscientific theory is that the Wisconsin “once” may be derived from the phrase “at once.” It still implies immediacy, but in an informal, folksy sort of way.

“Don Corleone would like to see you in his office at once!”

~~~

BONUS! Once is also the title of a charming movie about musicians in Ireland. Add it to your queue.

~~~

I believe I may have a Wisconsin version of MS Word. Spell check offers me an option to “ignore once.”

Geography, Part I

I lived most of my life living in the Chicago area: Mt. Greenwood (Chicago), Frankfort, Chicago Ridge, Burbank, Worth, Alsip, Rogers Park (Chicago), and Lake Forest. I also spent a great deal of time in Jefferson Park as my now-husband lived there until we were married. Therefore, for all practical purposes, I consider myself as being from Chicago. While traveling, when someone would ask, “Where are you from?” and I’d say, “Chicago.” That’s how it worked.

However, when we moved to Wisconsin, I realized I was no longer “from Chicago.” I was now “from Illinois.”

“Jen, are you going to Illinois for Christmas?”

"She calls it pop because she’s from Illinois.”

Milwaukee and Chicago both suffer from metrocentrism, that is, their respective states are divided into a single major metropolitan area and the rest of the state. My northsider husband still claims that downstate Illinois begins at 79th Street.

I’ve gotten used to hearing people refer to me as being “from Illinois.” However, I have a hard time admitting I’m from Wisconsin. When traveling to Arizona last year, if asked, “Where are you from?” I would respond, “I’m from Chicago, but we live in Milwaukee now.”

~~~~~

When my husband and I starting looking for apartments in the Milwaukee area, I had a list of features that I wanted our new home to have: dishwasher, laundry, easy access to I-94, and a normal name. I use the example of living on Menomonee River Parkway in Wauwatosa as a nightmare address, but in reality that's a great neighborhood.

My criteria for our new home included the ability to dictate our address to someone over the phone with the fewest explanations and repetitions. (Our last name is a nightmare in itself to explain!) And this is why we ended up on Field Stone Circle in Oak Creek. But then that lead to the inevitable question: “Is that one word or two?”

Here’s a list of names that I had to learn to pronounce correctly (This is a short list and I welcome comments about any others I forgot to include):
Potawatomi (I'm not spelling the first few phonetically because unless you're going to move here, there's no use learning how to say them.)
Oconomowoc
Manitowoc

Waukesha

Wauwatosa
Mukwonago
Cudahy (to me, this looks like cud-uh-hee, but it’s cud-uh-hay, dontcha know?)
New Berlin (put the accent on the Ber, not the lin.)
Bay View (for some reason, you need to put the accent on the VIEW. When we were looking to purchase our house, I asked our realtor about looking in BAYview and I was met with a blank stare.)
Green Bay (again, you need to put the emphasis on the BAY, or else you risk sounding like a tourist)

IMPORTANT! Don’t forget that when pronouncing “Milwaukee,” the “l” is silent as in "M'waukee."

~~~~~

And no conversation about the unusual names of Wisconsin communities is complete without mentioning the unforgettable scene from Wayne’s World:

Wayne: "So, do you come to Milwaukee often?"

Alice Cooper: "Well, I'm a regular visitor here, but Milwaukee has certainly had its share of visitors. The French missionaries and explorers began visiting here in the late 16th century." Pete: "Hey, isn't Milwaukee an Indian name?"

Alice Cooper: "Yes, Pete, it is. In fact, it was originally an Algonquin term meaning the good land."

Wayne: "I was not aware of that." Alice Cooper: "I think one of the most interesting things about Milwaukee is that it's the only American city to elect three Socialist mayors."*

Wayne to the camera: "Does this guy know how to party or what?"

*Look for musings about Wisconsin politics in future postings of Say Cheese(head)!

Inspiration for Say Cheese(head)!

The impetus for this blog came from this Bloody Mary:

Yes, it is customary to serve a Bloody Mary with celery and other garnishes, but look closely...do you see the pepperoni stick?

Only in Wisconsin, can you order a drink that comes with sausage.

A week ago, I met my three best friends from high school for lunch. They all live in the Chicago area and it is a rare but wonderful thing when the four of us can get together without children or significant others. We had a nice long (and loud!) lunch at The Chancery just over the state border in Pleasant Prairie, WI.

The conversation turned to life in Wisconsin as my girlfriends said they felt like tourists. The Bloody Mary gave us lots of giggles. After lunch, we shared a giant cream puff, another Wisconsin novelty. We did agree that there is too much dairy for one person alone to eat a cream puff, but my Wisconsin residency status may be in trouble for suggesting that there is such a thing as "too much dairy."

I mentioned the pepperoni stick to my neighbors who responded, "Did she get cheese with it, too? They usually come with a few cheese cubes." Perhaps that Bloody Mary accessory is served in the Chancery locations around Milwaukee County but not the one so close to Illinois?

So I thank Missy, Debbie, and Lidia for our fun afternoon together, and for inspiring me to finally write down the unusual, but endearing, aspects of life in Wisconsin.

Tyme Out!

Wisconsin Lexicon Entry #2

During my first week as a Wisconsin resident, I visited a grocery store near our apartment. As I prepared to pay for my items, the cashier asked me, "Are you using your time card?"

I gave her a blank look, paused, and replied, "I don't...uh, I don't work here."

She said, "No, Tyme card, debit card. T-Y-M-E. Are you using a debit card?"

I felt silly, but then realized people in Wisconsin may actually have to ask someone else, "Do you know if there is a Tyme Machine around here?"

Now if she had asked me if I was using my Cash Station card, I would have totally known what she was talking about. But they don't have Cash Stations in Wisconsin. And I guess the Cash Station name brand was discontinued the year after we left Chicago.

I now just say ATM.

Up North

Wisconsin Lexicon Entry #1

up north (noun): any recreational destination outside of Milwaukee and Madison. The Strombowskis went up north for the weekend.

When we first moved to Wisconsin, we heard coworkers and neighbors refer to going "up north," a mystical vacation spot where people stay in cabins, spend time fishing and boating, and consume beer.

I would ask where this "up north" was and it turns out that there are many rural, wooded locations throughout the state that can be considered "up north." This website suggests that only certain counties should be included in the "up north" category, but I have heard it used in a broader sense.

~~~

Since their infancy, our children were cared for by Busia (boo-sha), which is Polish for grandma. Busia ran a daycare in her home and soon became a close friend of our family. She had a cabin "up north" and eventually closed the daycare last summer and moved there permanently.

I found myself explaining to others that "Busia had retired up north." This phrase reminded me of how parents sometimes explain death to young children:

"Scruffy is now living happily on a farm for old dogs."

"Grandma is in a better place."

"Mr. Miller moved to Florida."

~~~

Our next door neighbors have a place "up north." After several conversations about how they spent their weekends, I couldn't imagine why anyone would even want a second home on a lake. They spend their weekends working! They are mowing the lawn, remodeling, winterizing the cabin, pulling weeds, cooking, cleaning, and doing basic home repairs. These are things I do every weekend at my own house...and I don't have to drive three hours to get there! I can barely stay on top of the upkeep of my own house and yard, I can't imagine have two homes to maintain.

We managed to get invited to our neighbors cabin in the summer of 2007. We joined five other families on our block for a weekend of drinking, eating, and swapping stories around a bonfire. Again, I wondered, "Why can't we do this in the neighborhood?"

Despite a horseshoe injury that nearly landed me in the ER, we did have a great weekend. I was introduced to the secret of "up north" culture -- the supper club. We could walk from the cabin to a supper club less than a block away. The other moms and I spent Saturday night sampling the draft brew at the supper club and walked, err, stumbled back to the cabin with tiny flashlights. The highlight of the evening was the underage drinkers who decided this group of moms were worthy of flirting. Out of respect for my neighbors, I will not post pictures of them dancing on the tables.

This same group of moms and I are venturing back "up north" to the cabin at the end of March for a girls' weekend away. I am hoping to find more cultural nuggets on that trip!

Introduction: Welcome to Wisconsin -- Come and Smell our Dairy Air!

In spring of 2000, I was a newlywed with a brand new masters degree and a rewarding job at a liberal arts college. My husband and I were living just north of Chicago and waiting for the next part of our lives to begin. One day, my soon-to-be-law-school-graduate husband shared some news with me.

"I got the federal clerkship in Milwaukee!"

I'll never forget my reaction:

"Milwaukee? You mean, Wisconsin? People don't LIVE in Wisconsin. They just go there on the weekends in the summer!"

But alas, we were headed to Wisconsin temporarily. A few years at the most. His clerkship was for two years, and then we would move on to some fabulous place to settle down and live our lives. Some place warm.

But the clerkship extended to three years and by that time, we had our first child and the Wisconsin bar exam had been taken and passed. Before I knew it, 2004 was here and my husband was working at a Milwaukee law firm. We also had a mortgage and another baby on the way. Much to my surprise, our future was clear: we weren't stuck in Wisconsin, we had made the choice to live in Wisconsin.

Now, after nearly nine years of living north of the cheddar curtain (aka the Illinois/Wisconsin border), I embrace our decision to settle here and raise our children in suburban Milwaukee. We have made so many wonderful friends here -- both native Wisconsinites as well as other transplants. Most of the time, I really feel like I am home. But, at other moments, I still feel like an outsider observing some curious culture. I take mental notes on my anthropological observations and share stories with my friends and family still in Chicagoland.

I think it's about time that I finally record those observations so that my experience may be of help to other Chicagoans who travel I-94 north into America's Dairyland.