Dairyland: very similar to Disneyland

Shortly after Bill and I arrived back to the land of four seasons, we went to Richland Center for lunch and to get our fishing licenses at the local Walmart store. It was almost as exciting as getting the marriage license. The reason it was a little more dull than getting the paper for our nuptials was because almost nine years ago in Chicago, Illinois, we were standing behind a lovely foreign couple who were trying to explain in broken Spanglish that they needed to alter a license they had just applied for two weeks prior. The frustrated little woman was explaining to the marriage license clerk that yes, she still needed a license, but needed it to read her name, next to this guy's (enter the wide-eyed man next to her) and not the man from two weeks ago. Bill and I were speechless.

I apparently got offtrack: back to the butter and cheese store. As we drove out of the little downtown area looking at everything in amazement from little beer breweries to strange church architecture and shops run out of people's homes, we came upon this building and I screeched to a halt because I had to get a picture. This is a cute little shop-Alcam Creamery- that ONLY sells butter! Only in Wisconsin would a shop make and sell their own butter, successfully for more than 50 years! That explains some of the delicate physiques that wander these back roads; I thought it was for insulation as the weather gets colder.

And, on the fishing license front, Bill and I each needed to submit documentation that was almost identical to getting our marriage licenses with the exception of Bob-my new Walmart buddy in the hunting department-not needing to see our birth certificates. It took just as long, but I pumped Bob for information too: he told me how to get to the closest shooting range, I checked out his stock of bullets, AND got to pick out my very own nightcrawlers for the day's activities. In the end, I am convinced we didn't catch anything because they were Canadian nightcrawlers--our fish don't want foreign worms. But, be on the lookout over the next few months for some more worminess as I actually take a good hard look at the local bait shops. I am dying to get into the one called The Firm Worm: yup, I'm not making that up. The Firm Worm sells bait AND liquor--I'm very excited. It's like a whole other country up here and apparently living in Wisconsin on and off for twenty years wasn't enough time for me to actually see how much fun (and free entertainment value) there really is up there. Let's just make sure I'm still entertained when I have any exposed skin stuck to metal objects while trying to free my car from a snowdrift in a couple of months!