I’m in the backseat of a four hour drive, screaming to music, choppy, at best, roads, and constant hydroplaning. And I love it. Arriving at a dirt road that would seem completely abandoned if it weren’t for the massive snow plows manhandling the snow every week, pushing through more rolling icy hills and finally arriving at a lightless cabin. Having to shovel snow four feet deep just to get to the door and walking into a cabin that's just as frigid as the outside. Having the last pick of beds as the youngest and getting stuck sleeping on four inches of couch cushion on the floor with a light blanket in -30 degree weather but somehow I still love it.

I love having no idea if tomorrow is going to be shorts and t-shirts or snow boots and winter jackets. But my favorite part of Wisconsin isn’t the big cities or the small towns, it's the secluded spots 15 miles north of nowhere that somehow still have Culver’s and delicious cheese curds. 

Although Wisconsin is filled with these holes in the ground, Minocqua is my favorite, where I’m free to be and no one can tell me otherwise. Filled with hidden gems of food like El Tarasco, an amazing Mexican restaurant I visit every time we go, or The Boathouse that really feels like you're tasting Minocqua Lake with every bite. Free to shoot into a frozen lake or drive my snowmobile way too fast. Free to exercise every amendment America has given to you and to me. And free to be free. Zero expectations, zero do’s or don’ts, zero weights tying any of us down. And when everyone is snowed in and we’ve got nowhere else to go, what else is there to do than sit back and enjoy the view? 

Standing outside in the more than freezing negative degree windchill and still having a blast because I’m there with the best friends anyone could ask for. I love Wisconsin for the diversity, for the college kids having too much fun, for the parents who always want to stop it. For the different people I’ve met and trust me I’ve met more than a few.

 I know they say I’ll find people like my friends anywhere across the states but they wouldn’t be my people, they wouldn’t be the same ones who complain about the snow no matter how many times they live through it, they wouldn’t be the same ones who routinely crash there cars because they refuse to drive slow through the rain, and it wouldn’t be the same ones who have had my back through thick and thin, who have taking hits for me and who have thrown them on my behalf, and I wouldn’t want any other friends from anywhere else in the nation.