Jroosh is shutting down Roosh5 as of today.

That’s too bad as this has been one of the best written and best thought-out blogs in the MOB since it started a year and a half ago. From politics to economics (actually these are becoming one and the same these days), to family trips, movie reviews and car porn, this has been an exceptional and digestible blog.

Fortunately it’s not a matter of running out of juice, but a conscious — and admirable — decision to apply that juice in a different direction.

Well said, and farewell, Jroosh. Here’s hoping to see you in various and sundry comment sections and at future MOB events!

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Katie is pulling the plug on Yucky Salad With Bones. Why? Well, like her header says, “for no good reason.”

I started this thing what, about 4 years ago, for no other reason than I thought it would be fun. I never paid any attention to how many hits I got, not because I’m some counterculture goth girl or anything, more due to the fact that other issues were more pressing, like the kitchen was on fire or a kid was hanging off a precarious ledge or something. Oh let’s see, the other day I got home from a run to find them all out in the front yard, trying to dislodge an arrow from a second story shutter by heaving various heavy objects at it. Hmm. Nothing like coming home to find the troops throwing rocks and footballs at the windows.

But I wanted to make a formal goodbye, so long and thanks for all the fish. Really, I can’t tell you how much I appreciated y’all reading.

Stay classy, San Diego.

Obviously the woman has issues, which is what made it such a fun blog to visit anyway, even if the name never made sense. But what did you expect from someone who’d name her kid Finbar? Still she made me laugh. Hard. So hard that peanut butter would come out of my nose, that’s how hard. Who now will give us those riveting, streams-of-subconscious reviews and endless paragraphs about the Oscars and American Idol, who will stand Culture Watch and bring back the report? People like me laugh easily in our homes at night because we want people like her on That Wall. There’s probably some Irish blessing to use in a time like this, something about ‘may the blogs rise up to meet you’ or ‘may you be in heaven 30 minutes before Technorati knows you’re dead’ but I’m not Irish, or Katie, so then Adieu and bonne chance to the Salad. Not that I’m French, either, but using those words saves me from having to type what I really want to say but don’t usually allow on this blog, which is “Damn.”

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Last Friday was the third “birthday” of this blog. Wow, talk about time flying by, and in that time there have been 1,028 posts, totaling more than 530,000 words. So, yes, I could easily have written a book during this time, though it should be noted that Tiger Lilly, the Mall Diva and the Reverend Mother have contributed some words as well. There’s also been more than 133,000 visitors according to Site Meter. I have to say I’m surprised by all those numbers, especially since I generally don’t have any idea what I’m going to post about from one day to the next (or even if I’m going to have a chance to post from one day to the next).

The discipline has been good for me, though the main reason I’ve kept it up is that it is so much fun and because of the wonderful people I’ve been able to meet (including a prospective son-in-law). It’s been a great hobby, and one I’m planning on continuing. I’m even thinking about a new look which you may see shortly. I’ve also gained a lot of confidence in my writing over the past three years, to the point where I’m seriously thinking about making some money at this. No, not in terms of blogads, but in using some of the posts here as samples to pitch articles or essays to publications. In preparation for that I’ve been going back through all the posts and categorizing them in greater detail for easier access (you may have noticed a much longer category list on the right side of this page). I’m about a third of the way through this process and then I’ll turn my attention to a new look.

By the way, for the past three months I’ve gotten two or three emails a day from Go Daddy reminding me that my domain was due to be renewed (quite a change from last year’s fiasco with Registerfly). Naturally I was fully aware of this and intended to renew but I deliberately was stringing this out as my own personal protest against Go Daddy’s Super Bowl ads. Then last week I got a call at work from a GD customer service rep wanting to know if it was my intention to let my domain lapse. I wasn’t expecting such diligence, but it was a great opportunity for me to explain why I had been delaying. The rep was a bit taken aback, but apologized and said that he would pass my concerns up the line. So I’ve got that going for me.

Anyway, thanks for stopping by.

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I was going back through my archives recently looking for a particular photo when I browsed through my August, 2005 posts. Typically I’m much more apt to wince than smile when I look at my previous writings, but I found fond memories in the various accounts from that month: stories of animal home invasions, a discussion on comparative religions, my funny adventures in the Emergency Room and subsequent dealings with the U.S. healthcare system, a Monty Python-inspired examination of the very unfunny British healthcare system, and perhaps my favorite (in terms of how much fun it was to write) post of all-time — a take-off on the Union-inspired absurdities of the Minnesota public education system. I had a couple of good (I think) political riffs and some pensive, personal posts that took me back to my mindset in those days.

It was a good month, perhaps even my best month of posting. I don’t like to go through the old stuff that much so I can’t really compare, but I did find this particular collection both inspirational and aspirational for me and my blogging future. I was only six months into blogging at that time and maybe just beginning to find or get comfortable with my “voice.” Sure, there’s some clinkers in there, but I’m not into revisionism; they’re all part of the record.

I’m in the process of deciding how best to continue my writing interests, the direction I might take this blog, and even whether I’ve got the chops to try a more ambitious project. Reading through these old posts was both amusing and helpful to me, even refreshing.

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Ok, a couple of months ago I went to a reunion of a bunch of us who had worked at the same ad agency back around the time my oldest daughter was born. In talking to one of the creative gals from the old gang that evening I casually mentioned how I wished I had some talent at wood-working or cabinetry because I loved the smell and feel of a well-made piece, and how the wood-working section is my favorite when I go to craft shows with the Reverend Mother. The woman’s face lit up, and her eyes got big. “Oh, well then you MUST pursue it! Chase your dream! Take classes! Buy tools! What can you be doing that’s so important that you can’t go after what you really want to do! Come on, let’s call your wife right now and I’ll tell her you HAVE to do this!”

“Ummm, let’s not,” I said. I told her that wood-working was something I’d like to pursue some time in the future when I had more time and fingers to spare, but that there were things right now I’d rather do with my evenings (like blogging, for instance). At least with writing I know I can put a few words together in a craftsman-like way but with lumber the only thing I’ve ever been able to make is a racket. I did muse a little at the thought of throwing myself at something I liked, and how this blog was perhaps a step in that direction.

Then a few weeks ago a friend of mine spoke at our church and told about how he and his family had packed up, sold everything and taken off on a year-long trek across the U.S. in an RV. The impetus had come from a conversation he had had with a man he had hired to do a laser-light show at an event:

We were talking one day and he was telling me about his life and all the different places he has been and all the neat things he has seen. He has done lasers for the past 30+ years. I was amazed just sitting there listening to him. He went on for several minutes. Talking about touring with The Stones, Clapton and some other big names. Then he stopped. He looked at me differently than before. He got real serious and then he said, “Tracy, I have been diagnosed with colon cancer. I most likely have one to two years left in this world.” I just stared at him, I am sure with a dumb look on my face. Then he went on to say, “Can I give you some advice, from an old guy to a young guy?” Of course I said yes, please do. “Do it now.” I looked at him and cocked my head to the side much like a dog does when you say the word “treat”. He went on. “What ever it is in your life that you have always wanted to do, do it now while you have the time. Do it now while you still can. You never know when the day will come and you can’t.”

Right about that time I also got a book for Christmas entitled Two Years in St. Andrews: At Home On the 18th Hole. It’s a true story about a guy, George Peper, who decided to chuck his high-paying job and move to a smallish flat he and his wife had bought several years before, nicely located alongside the 18th hole of the Old Course in St. Andrews, Scotland. (Just happening to own a place next to St. Andrews makes this a lot easier, I imagine.)

I’ve been to St. Andrews twice myself and found it an ethereal, even entrancing experience.

I’d been to St. Andrews before, on a cold blustery day 30 years ago and had virtually had the town to myself. I had walked the 17th and 18th holes of the Old Course and visited the ruins of the old town’s castle and original cathedral. I had stood on a cliff overlooking the North Sea as the waves pounded the rocks below and the wind chapped my face before I returned to my senses and realized I had been standing there for 40 minutes, hypnotized. This day, however, was a “soft” day, sunny, cool and, of course, windy. The occasional shower blew over us as we parked at the Old Course and walked up the 18th hole, and then turned toward the castle and the sea to retrace the steps I had made so long ago, this time able to show the sights to my children.

I love the gray stone buildings, black roofs and tight streets of the old town, the crash of the North Sea on the rocky shore. Peper himself became entranced by the slower and quirkier lifestyle, and it is easy for me to picture myself hunkering down in such a place to write — to pursue something while sitting nearly still. My mind drifts for awhile along the black cliffs until a splash of cold North Sea spray slaps my face. Oh yeah, job, mortgage, bills, health insurance, weddings, educations — worthy objectives themselves and hard to accomplish without a steady income. Yes, I know, the lilies of the field live quite well — but the lilies of the field never needed a 401k.

Mark Twain once said, “Write without pay until somebody offers to pay you. If nobody offers within three years, sawing wood is what you were intended for.” Within a month I will have been blogging here for three years. The “sawing” I do everyday pays pretty well, but I wonder sometimes if I could make a living as a writer in a world where people seem to read less even while so many very talented writers are giving it away for free. But still…

Nearly three years ago I looked up and realized that though my very impressive job title contained the word “Communications,” about the only things I wrote anymore were emails. So, I fashioned a little skiff and pushed it out into the electronic current, poling through the shallows almost as a lark, to see where it may lead. And now, as I type this, a line from a song by The Waterboys comes to me … “that was the river, this is The Sea!” And I see myself standing on the cliffs at St. Andrews again, watching the sea rush in and fall away from the rocks below — is it beckoning or taunting? — and realizing that taking a step is important, but not as important as timing!

What? Why, yes, I am turning 50 very soon. Why do you ask?

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It was an honor for me to be invited to be a contributing writer to the new Minnesota group blog True North. I don’t write frequently or deeply about politics but I get a good post off every now and then about the Minnesota scene or cultural anomalies and/or artifacts. To be told I had “chops” and ought to be a part of this new venture made me blush, avert my eyes and shyly shuffle my mouse. I knew I was going to have to live up to being part of a talented and volatile company of bloggers, and I didn’t know if I would fit in.

Just as nominees to a new political administration are flipped and grilled and have their pasts treated as merely so many prophetic entrails, I fear that in the wake of “Butt-Cheekgate” my past indiscretions will be my undoing. Therefore, in an effort to be upfront and to forestall the endless rounds of “gotcha” journalism, I want to forthrightly confess that I, too, have used similar wording on my blog. Not only that, but in a headline as well.

Please understand, I was much younger then and it all seemed like a bit of a harmless lark. Never in a million years would I have suspected that it would come back to haunt me like this and cause such embarrassment to my friends and family. To them, and anyone who I may have offended, I sincerely apologize. Not that I’m really like Learned Foot, of course. I mean, the idea that he’d not just push the nascent envelope but rip through it like a bottle rocket was as safe a bet as taking the “under” on how many games Rondell White would play before getting hurt this year. Still, I think I’m going to shelve the post I was working on comparing Nick Coleman to a dingleberry.

If that’s not repentance, I don’t know what is.

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At 10:09 a.m. this morning an unknown reader and Qwest customer from Denver, Colorado was the 100,000th SiteMeter visitor to this blog. I estimate that if you take out the number of times that I’ve hit this site myself in the last two and a half years that would mean, oh, 600-700 actual visits (90% of which left a comment on a Mall Diva post).

I thank God and Google for every one of you!

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