When my partner suggested that we go to Wisconsin in the middle of March for a quick weekend getaway, I was not on board. I don’t like being cold, I don’t have cold clothes, I didn’t even own a pair of gloves. We normally go south, on a cruise, or somewhere on the coast, or maybe the mountains in Tennessee where you can flirt with the cold without actually being cold cold. 

But here I sit in a horse-themed bar with cheese curds on the menu, and I couldn’t be happier.

I mean, this bar has CHEESE CURDS from Wisconsin. Why did I immediately think of cold and not of cheese?