Home Sweet Cheesecurd

I’m jet setting out of town this weekend! Glamorous Milwaukee has been calling me back home and I must obey. (You know, you should ALWAYS obey Milwaukee.) I’m very excited. Amtrak charged me for my train ticket three times accidentally but even that’s not bringing me down (even though it’s ridiculous to even have to pay once to ride that pee-mobile, they should pay ME) because I’m just excited to get out of the strangling chokehold Chicago seems to have on me right now. When I arrive at the beautiful sparkling Milwaukee train station (aka, the most terrifying place on earth) my friend Lisa will be there to pick me up, and unless history and tradition let me down she will be standing among the homeless, the addicted, the trashy and the degenerates in her classic black designer wear holding a large sign that reads “ALLEN, BROOKE” and pretending to scan the flock of wearied travelers for me.
Tradition also, at one time, would dictate that we would head to Lisa’s car and drive directly to Rocky Rococo’s for individual pan pizza’s…but unfortunately they are closed down so that is a severe and massive hardship.
Even so! I’m still excited because after climbing the excruciating five flights of twisty fire escape-esque steps to Lisa’s apartment it’s jammies and movies and wine for us the rest of the night.
THEN! Tomorrow we are heading out to the pumpkin patch. We are going to pick pumpkins (I like round squat ones that are bright orange. I look for that in my men too.) We are going to eat caramel apples (my mouth is healed! Although I have a permanent gap in my teeth, more on that later) and we are going to go on a hay ride which may or may not cause me to have a severe allergy attack, we’ll see!
Sunday it’s brunch with some high school friends and then back to the windiest city.
I never knew it would be possible to be this excited about visiting the dairy state, my cheese-filled homeland, but there you are.

Now, go shiver with jealousy.