On a t-shirt at Camp Randall: “It’s hard to be humble when you’re from Wisconsin”
First and ten, Wisconsin!
I’m a Chicagoan by birth, but a Wisconsin transplant by love. That’s what happens when you move somewhere for a guy. While my soul will always sigh with relief when it goes home to Chitown, I’ve discovered in these three years that life north of the Cheddar Curtain is pretty wonderful (well, 85% of the time…you know, when the Sconnies aren’t busy voting down gay marriage…that was a real buzz kill during the honeymoon of our Wisconsin residence). But overall, I’ve come to believe that this really is the great state of Wisconsin. And while I’ll always be a fib at heart (as evidenced by my driving), I sure can appreciate the pothole-free highways, the corruption-free politicians, and the pollution-free air up here in Madison.
In between our cheese-curd-eating, Badger-football-watching, New-Glarus-beer-drinking, sandhill-crane-spotting, snow-field-playing, Feingold-loving, UW-grad-school-attending, general love-affair-with-Wisconsin days, I find some time to write this blog. Although I was originally inspired by our global
travels, I have since discovered that life in Wisconsin–without the frequent flyer miles, the passports, or the Delhi Belly–is its own adventure of sorts. Who knew that if you drove 150 miles north of Chicago you’d enter a parallel universe? Culture shock? Absolutely. Good fodder for a blog? Definitely. A little self-indulgent?
You betcha.
(And if you really want to know more about me, check out my professional blog.)
