there's no place like home

I was just looking through some of my semi-recent pictures and got all sad that my parents don't live in Marshfield, Wisconsin anymore. That little town drove me nuts while I lived there, but good god was it entertaining once I got some faraway adult perspective. Last summer I made the nearly unbearable mistake of bringing my then-boyfriend home with me. The silver lining was that because we were so fundamentally wrong for each other, we always did lots of stuff to pass the time. So I got to play activity planner in the place that will always be closest to my heart. And with a little help from the "delete" button, my memories are nearly untainted!

Please ignore the lady in red for a moment and feast your eyes on the skinniest man I've ever seen, wearing an entire unidentifiable animal on his head cinched with an American flag bandanna.

This, naturally, was at the Styx concert.

Under a full moon.

Even a boyfriend jealous of your close relationship with YOUR SISTER can't ruin that one. Ahem. Moving on . . .

To Central Avenue, where the Senior Craft Shoppe sits nextdoor to Shockwave Video and Adult Entertainment.

And where, apparently, one can find the occasional local microbrewed beer tasting. Seeing my one-beer-a-night dad have more than one beer gets two thumbs up from me.

There is nothing like a day at the zoo! Especially if you are Miss Grizz.

In the context of last summer, all I have to say is, "Seriously".

Pictures do no justice to the majesty of this beast's horns.

"On the mega" would be a good catchphrase. For . . . something.

I can testify based on personal experience that there has been no work done on this mini golf course in at least 20 years.


Apparently Al Capone used to crash here when he was sneaking along the Yellow River. And now it's a wine bar. Yes, a wine bar. In Marshfield. Although they keep it real by serving barbeque potato chips as a bar snack.


The World's Largest Talking Cow has lost its calf. Sad.

You can't tell here, but this guy is looking with disdain at the camera. Sorry, dude. It's not every day you see a horse-drawn buggy that doesn't charge $50 an hour in these parts.


And last but not even close to least, The Rear End. I'd seen this sign a million times, but never once thought to venture beyond the thin layer of pine trees.


I don't know why I expected it to be more climactic.


Pardon the pun.