[Update: Okay, now my email address really is in my profile (View My Complete Profile). Thanks to DL Sly for letting me know it wasn't there before - and for figuring out how to let me know without the address being there.]
Perhaps permanently; I don’t know at this point. Comments are also closed but you can always email me; my address is in my profile over there ==> in the right margin.
I’ve enjoyed blogging for most of the time I’ve been doing it - almost six years now, wow! I’ve been looking back over some of my old blog posts and I think I’ve done some good work, some good writing, and I like knowing that. Now, however, blogging isn’t enjoyable for me and I’m not sure I’m doing particularly good work. Equally important, blogging keeps my focus on what’s wrong with, well, everything and keeps reminding me how little I can do about any of it. At this point, I’d rather focus on what’s right with everything and on what I can do something about.
On top of all that, I find that blogging - and especially the Internet reading I do when I’m blogging - gradually expands to fill the time available and then some. What can I say? I’m addicted to those little starbursts that go off in my brain when I click on a link and to those little starbursts that go off in my mind when something I read feeds one of my indignations.
I do like to write, which is part of why I’m leaving the door open to return to this blog someday. Or maybe down the road I’ll start an alternate blog - perhaps I’ll call it “IngleNook” - and write only about stuff like recipes and my grandparents and whether we lost one of our roses to the brutal winter.
I appreciate everyone who commented here over the years; your participation meant a lot to me. I’d also like to thank Cassandra over at Villainous Company for encouraging me early on: You made a world of difference to me, Cass. And I’d like to thank both Villainous Company and Grim’s Hall for taking me seriously as a blogger and for making me feel welcome as a commenter; I’ll be stopping by from time to time.
I wanted to close with a perfect quote or poem or epigraph or something and had fun running through some candidates. In the end, though, I always come back to this:
In the year 1652 when throughout England all things sacred were either profaned or neglected, this church was built by Sir Robert Shirley, Bart., Whose special praise it is to have done the best things in the worst times and to have hoped them in the most calamitous.