Review-a-Day - My Teenage Werewolf: A Mother, a Daughter, a Journey through the Thicket of Adolescence by Lauren Kessler, reviewed by The Oregonian - Powell's Books

Review-a-Day - My Teenage Werewolf: A Mother, a Daughter, a Journey through the Thicket of Adolescence by Lauren Kessler, reviewed by The Oregonian - Powell's Books

Michigandering

Besides orange barrels on the road, chili dogs, Kellogg's Corn Flakes, Ford Country, shipwrecks, Mackinac Island, Frankenmuth, Leelanau Wine Tours, Comerica Park, bow-hunting season, Au Sable River, Petoskey stones and Autumn passing in flying colors, what makes Michigan so Michigan?

Welcome to my adopted state of mind. Wild Turtle Crossing: Pure Michigandering

Oy, Gefilte

Choose This. Not That!

L'Shana Tova.

To read on... stop by

http://wildturtlecrossing.blogspot.com/2010/09/what-to-make-of-gefilte-fish.html

Labor Day

Blogging on. Still tap-tap-tapping at a keyboard, lost in concentration on one bumpy sentence after another, scrabbling on the rocks of one word at a time.

Chewing pencils into alpha-bit shavings, figuratively speaking. Noting lists and links, tags and twittering friends, books to read, movies to see, games to play, technology to ponder, and other points of interest across the galaxy of the internet.

The voice of the turtle calls. Welcome to

http://www.wildturtlecrossing.blogspot.com

Wild Turtle Crossing

Photo source: miniature alphabet pencil sculptures by Dalton Ghetti telegraph.co.uk

Slowly crossing

How does it feels to start-up a new blog?

• like working in your pajamas
• like moving into your first apartment
• like scrubbing floors, opening windows, unpacking boxes, arranging sock drawers
• like lighting candles
• like Trick-or-Treat with no one coming to the door
• like a turtle crossing in heavy traffic
• like dancing at water’s edge

Welcome to

www.wildturtlecrossing.blogspot.com

(A new path, just down the road.)

On a slow day

Have you ever actually seen a turtle crossing the road? Indeed a pitiful sight, an exercise in futility, surely to meet with shell-cracking, body-flattening disaster. Death by speeding rubber. But still, imagine that act of faith in the motion forward. Onward. Proceed at all costs to the other side.

Because I am slow to cross the road, because I am slow to read signs, even when the handwriting’s on the wall, because I am slow to say goodbye, troubled by closings and endings of all kinds, because I’m slow to write, a procrastinator by nature, because I’ve developed the habit of checking this blog from day to day and dropping my line or two, because habits die slowly, even when splattered on the road, here I am.

Here. Present. Hand raised. Eager to answer a question no one has asked of me. Ready. Notebook open. Seated in a classroom, where no one is taking attendance, where I am the sole student. Slow learner. Stringing sentences together. Writing for the sake of . . . writing. On a blog that I did not begin. Okay, let’s see how this goes. A turtle. Crossing the road.

When one road closes....

You know the old saying, "Close a window. Another window opens."  And so on.  I'm saying that now.  Time to close the blog. 

Time to set the Wayfarers free to explore new paths on the Artist's Way or new paths off the Artist's Way. Viv and I have talked. (It turns out there's this crazy thing that's not on the Internet.  It's called "The Phone."  Cool.) We agree it's time for us to move on.  I have a lot of baby blogs in the Blogger nursery, not to mention about three novels on life support.  Viv has a couple of URLs ready to go.

I know -- because I have heard from several of you -- that your paths are diverging through the summer.  And your creative souls are as rich as ever they were.  Merely a little diverted... like mine.

Now, when I say "close the blog," I do not mean "kill the blog."  As far as I know, the blog will be right here and fully operational for possibly years and years.   Feel absolutely free to come here and read the old posts or leave a new post. 

I'll drop by from time to time to see if weeds are popping up through the pavement.  Did you ever see that show, "Life After People"? It's a vivid demonstration of how the dust bunnies would REALLY multiply if all the folks on earth left for some unknown reason.  Anyway, I think our little blog may soon get overgrown with vines and have zoo animals roaming around in it.  (Which would be different, how?  I hear you.)   But it will still be here.  For the Blogger version of Forever, however long that may be.

I'm building a new blog that's not all about the AW.  It's called Lake E and I intend it to be kind of a journal, kind of an exploration, kind of an excuse to keep writing.  It's at http://lakeewriter.blogspot.com/  Right now, it's an empty lot.  Later, we'll see. 

For now, I have to say this has been great for me.  You've been great, all you Artist's Wayers, from January right on till August.  Isn't that fine?  Take a minute to consider one fabulous thing you've learned about yourself in 12 weeks or 24 weeks or a week and a half.  Whatever it's been for you. 

You have absolutely everything you need to continue whenever the road calls to you.  The Book.  A pen.  Or pencil.  A notebook.  Or just paper.  Or just a blank wall and a crayon. A scrap of fabric.  A keyboard.  A knitting needle (or two.)  Whatever.  And you have your Artist.  Waiting to go on a date with you.  Standing right there.  (She's got your back and you are NOT Sandra Bullock.  So, lucky you.) 

I have your back, too.  You can take the Sherpa off the mountain, but you can't take the mountain .... rats.  What does that mean?  That doesn't work.  I hate it when cliches don't pan out.  That's their job.  To always pan out.  Rats. Rats.

At any rate, you have me.  My phone number.  My email address.  My absolutely forever promise to support your creativity in any way I can.  Let's stay in touch.  Or get back in touch.  Let's share our projects.  Our plans and goals.  Our promises.  Our blood oaths. Our vacation schedules, our recipes for panna cotta.  Really.  I count you all among my very best and most valued friends.  I get tremendous strength and encouragement simply from knowing you're in the world.  Let's stay in touch.  And whatever I can do to boost you along your path, let me know.

Let's give Bilbo Baggin's the last word.  I love him.  And you.

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

Love,
Annie