Three hundred and sixty five days ago we rolled across the Wisconsin state line a mere 19 days after giving our employers notice and making the decision official. I’m still amazed at all we accomplished in such a short time, including selling our house and packing up all our belongings.
No way we could have done it without copious amounts of meth.
I kid, I kid! Other than working our way through a beer fridge, we had no brain-altering help. This was all Team MarTar, baby. We rock.
Of course, we were old pros at it by then, having made a huge cross-country move just four years earlier. Nobody saw this one coming, and honestly, neither did we. If not for a road trip the previous year and 18 or so hours in Madison, we’d probably still be living in South Dakota today, watching the buffalo roam and plugging our ears every time Kristi fucking Noem opened her trap.
It wasn’t just politics that drove us away. Actually, we were pretty happy there. We have asked ourselves many times over the past year why we so willingly gave up so much — a house we’d poured sweat equity into, friends, steady jobs, those amazing pretzel sticks from Paddy O’Neill’s — for The Great Unknown. Neither of us has a clue. Really, there are only two logical answers:
- We stole from the mob and are on the run from their goons.
- Insanity.
I think the real answer is our blind faith in each other. Team MarTar has accomplished a lot together, and every time we have rolled the dice, we’ve won. (We should really hit Vegas!). Or maybe it’s just greed. Things were pretty good in South Dakota, but is “pretty good” good enough? Not the way I see it. Life is too short to settle for anything less than everything. Regardless of the reason, we don’t have a single regret. Wisconsin has turned out to be everything we hoped it would be, plus a whole lot more.
Thank god. We’d have felt like absolute idiots otherwise.
There are so many ways this whole thing could have gone sideways. I might have hated my job (I don’t). Tara could have struggled to find one (she landed three). What if our apartment had been a dump, or we were unable to find a house we liked? OMG, what if we both developed allergies to cheese?!?!
But “Sideways” is just a movie starring Paul Giamatti and Thomas Haden Church. A pretty good one, at that.
Wisconsin is perfect for us. It checks all our boxes. Which is funny, because when I first met Tara, she told me, “I could never live east of the Rocky Mountains.” And yet, the Rockies keep retreating farther and farther west in the rearview mirror. Trust me, she’s eaten a ton of crow since.
I could ramble on and on about my first year as a Sconnie, but I don’t want your eyes to glaze over. Lists are fun, right? I’ve made a few, and the answers are in no particular order.
12 Groovy Things About Wisconsin
- Cheese
- Kwik Trip
- Supper Clubs
- The Great Lakes (Michigan/Superior)
- Fireflies
- Milwaukee
- Brandy Old Fashioneds
- Friday Fish Frys
- Madison
- Left-Leaning Swing State
- Cardinals
- Festivals & Events
No place is perfect, of course. With that in mind…
5 Not-So-Groovy Things About Wisconsin
- Humidity
- Mosquitoes
- FIBs
- Property Taxes
- No Legalized Marijuana
4 Things That Surprised Us About Wisconsin
- Corn hole is called bags.
- Restaurants can’t legally serve margarine unless a customer specifically requests it.
- Ninety-five percent of all U.S. ginseng is grown here.
- Wisconsin has more lakes than Minnesota (“Land of 10,000 Lakes”) but doesn’t brag about it.
Even though we aren’t living in Madison as originally planned, we love our town even more. I guess that makes Fort Atkinson the fifth (and biggest) surprise.
So, all in all, it’s been a great first year in Wisconsin! I wouldn’t hesitate to do it all over again, though I might buy a pallet of meth aspirin to counteract all the headaches and sore muscles still to come. Moving is incredibly hard work, man. Twice in four years is ridiculous. You just have to take it one day at a time and know that, eventually, you’ll reach the finish line.
Having said that, this is it. NO MORE MOVES, I swear. We’re finished, done, kaput, finito, here for the long haul. Besides, we’re getting too old for this shit. I plan to be buried in the backyard, preferably atop my John Deere, and haunt the hell out of whoever buys our house next. Wisconsin for life, baby!
Mark my words.
Mark My Words 
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