The Trouble with Tootsie

Tootsie was a very very small honey-colored dog. She was the tiniest Shetland Sheepdog that her family had ever adopted. She was so small that her family often could not even find her. But the trouble with Tootsie wasn’t so much that she was so small. No, the trouble with Tootsie was that she liked to hide! And, when Tootsie was hiding, her family would have to search for her all through the house. They would look under newspapers, blankets, and towels. They would look behind the big green fern near the antique china cupboard and under the piano. They would look behind the big wing chair in the living room and under the bed. They would look under the dining room table and under each of the six chairs. And then they would look, one more time, under the bed.

But there was one place Tootsie’s family never bothered to look. And that was in her kennel. And do you know why they never bothered to look in her kennel? Well, they never bothered to look in her kennel because Tootsie never ever hid there. And do you know why she never ever hid there? Well, she never ever hid there because she didn’t like it. Tootsie didn’t like her kennel because that’s where she was supposed to stay at night and she didn’t want to sleep there. And do you know why she didn’t want to sleep there? The trouble with Tootsie was that she didn’t want to sleep in her kennel because she wanted to sleep with her family.

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Songs

Follow the descants of your dreams
To the land of sparkling singing streams
Whose harmony—since time began—
Plays the mystic music of Michigan.

And nowhere else is the sound as sweet
As where the Great Lakes waters meet,
For the Upper Peninsula’s loving embrace
Beckons to all with its beauty and grace.

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Northern Lights

In forest deep, filled fair with pine,
On banks where laughing waters shine,
Night spreads along Chicaugon shore.
Wigwams long gone; canoes no more.
Pensive, pondering, here I roam,
O’re paths of sandstone, rock, and loam.
North wind, whispering, curls the air
With legends of the tribal lair.

Stars of magic, moon of light,
Shimmer golden midst the night.
Draped upon a darkened stage,
Guide me to another age.
Age of ancient tribal ways,
Ojibwa spirits dance in praise.
From the new world they come forth—
Dazzling visions in the North.

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Anyone can be a good writer!

Writing is fun! Anyone can be a good writer. The important thing is to write about what you know. To get started, create an Authority List of ten things you know something about. Then choose one topic from your list.

Picturing this topic in your mind, ask yourself the following questions:

  • What do I see?
  • What do I hear?
  • What do I smell?
  • What do I taste?
  • What do I feel?

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