Morels and Brad Paisley

You'd think that after living in Wisconsin for over 8 years I would have at least tried Morel mushrooms, but until yesterday you would have been wrong. Since moving to Wisconsin I have tried many new things: Snowmobiling, ATV's, shotgun sports, driving without road-rage, drunk dialing, landing on snow and ice covered runways, hunting various animals, dodging students in the road at UW, divorce, marriage, camping, and leaving my house unlocked. But I never ate a Morel mushroom. After all, they don't exactly look appetizing and grow wild up here in the grossest of places.

Yesterday was the day. We went to Missy's mom's house for Mother's Day and they had just picked some fresh Morels and were eager to fry them up. I was a bit nervous to eat one, since it looks gross, like something you might find growing on a coral reef when scuba diving. Ahh, but looks can be deceiving. These things are friggin' awesome! After tasting a super-small one, I could hardly keep my hand out of the mushroom jar! Randy then told me to be careful how many I ate, since there is apparently some point where your body will reject them. It's kinda like knowing when you should have that last beer, where one more ounce will leave you clinging for life and hugging the porcelain god. I did not reach that point, but I guess I will have to someday, just so I know where that point is.

I might get my chance tonight. While Halle and I were enjoying lunch at Shelton's, a guy came in with way too many of these. Seems he had quite a Morel hunting, and had much more than he could eat or even sell. He gave us a box of them, as well as Joleene the bartender. Missy will be surprised when she gets home, or before if she reads this blog!

And special thank go out to Brad Paisley, for writing the perfect "Todd Song".

When you see a deer you see Bambi
And I see antlers up on the wall
When you see a lake you think picnics
And I see a large mouth up under that log
You're probably thinking that you're going to change me
In some ways well maybe you might
Scrub me down, dress me up oh but no matter what
remember I'm still a guy

When you see a priceless French painting
I see a drunk, naked girl
You think that riding a wild bull sounds crazy
And I'd like to give it a whirl
Well love makes a man do some things he ain't proud of
And in a weak moment I might...
walk your sissy dog, hold your purse at the mall
But remember, I'm still a guy

I'll pour out my heart
Hold your hand in the car
Write a love song that makes you cry
Then turn right around knock some jerk to the ground
'Cause he copped a feel as you walked by

I can hear you now talking to your friends
Saying, "Yeah girls he's come a long way"
From dragging his knuckles and carrying a club
And building a fire in a cave
But when you say a backrub means only a backrub
Then you swat my hand when I try
Well, now what can I say at the end of the day
Honey, I'm still a guy

And I'll pour out my heart
Hold your hand in the car
Write a love song that makes you cry
Then turn right around knock some jerk to the ground
'Cause he copped a feel as you walked by

These days there's dudes getting facials
Manicured, waxed and botoxed
With deep spray-on tans and creamy lotiony hands
You can't grip a tacklebox

Yeah with all of these men lining up to get neutered
It's hip now to be feminized
I don't highlight my hair
I've still got a pair
Yeah honey, I'm still a guy

Oh my eyebrows ain't plucked
There's a gun in my truck
Oh thank God, I'm still a guy