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the Unicorn Challenge -the Wakefield Doctrine- [a Stone and the Crone story]

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Unicorn Challenge bloghop.

jenne and ceayr have only one rule and that is a 250 word maximum for contributions.

(To read more from this series, go to ‘the Stone and the Crone‘)

 

“Remember when they built this place? How the stone masons insisted on returning down to Plockton every night? Either our appetites were far greater than I remember or they’d been warned about certain fauna.”

“I must’ve gained five stone over a single summer.”

“Aye and still working it off,”

Against the lower trunk of the 200-year-old oak, the woman’s burlap cloak made her indistinguishable from the riven and craggy bark of a tree that was a sapling when the pair had last visited. It would have taken the occupants of the Land Rover’d tourists more time in concentrated scanning of the forest beyond the lawns than their generation was inclined to invest in parts of the world not displayed on their phones.

“Here now!” To her left, doing a passable imitation of a coarse greywacke outcropping, the aptly named, Stone, felt a camouflage-compromising guffaw growing. Of long-term couples, it is said that jokes are nearly impossible because every punchline is telegraphed from common experience.

“Remember what you starting calling the construction site?”

The ancient woman’s effort to resist the urge to laugh resulted in a coughing fit, every old reptile’s instinctive tightening around the snake hook violating the safety of its ground cover-and-roots hideaway.

“Carron Carry-out?”

“Stop it, mo chirdhe,” the gruffness in the man’s voice, in unintended simpatico with their choice of hiding places against stone and bark, nearly disguised for his feelings of concern for his companion.

 

 

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TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Doctrine’s weekly contribution to the Ten Things of Thankful (TToT) bloghop.

Hey! Here’s a thought… are you typing from a location other than Oceania (North America(ish)… that is)? Welll, have we an offer for you! Link your post.  (n.b. well, given this is the Wakefield Doctrine, if you’re not sure how to, then just ask in a comment). If you do, we promise to share one of the few jokes that everyone says should not be considered nearly as hilarious as we do… (too much build-up? ….yeah. not a joke so much, more a bon mot you know, 13-year-old clever,)1

1)  Una

2) Phyllis

3) the Wakefield Doctrine

4) the Six Sentence Story bloghop. ‘Six clumsy sentences…‘  by Keith

5) the Unicorn Challenge bloghop

6) The current lack of snow. While winter cold, the starchy-white soiled sheet of January snow that makes winters so inherently inimical, the brown of frozen dirt is, some how, less bully-ing.

7)  work (and documentary photo) check back later, aiigght?

* a cat at the house. was she chasing a mouse? my inspection complete, my photos replete *

8) Everyday oddities of the ‘real’ world. (weird? ok, daylight creepy…er. how about uncanny yeah lets go with that)  Here we have a photo of a church in rural Rhode Island. Though on the small side, look at the photo and chase down the small, wth? nibbling at your sense of normal, natural world of churches:

9) something, something

10) Secret Rule 1.3

 

  1. current hostinae ( Mimi, Dyanne, Kristi, Lisa, Denise, Misky not eligible to participate. As they would likely suffer a conflict of interest. (“He said what?!?! And represented it as humor?!?!! After the talk we had when he accepted the role of … we should have know!”)
  2. lol

music vids

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- Part 1 (… earlier that same, final evening of the Year)

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise, it requires but one thing from participating writers: the story must consist of exactly six sentences.

Yeah, this is the first part of a two part Six (not to mention something of a prequel to our host’s own set of stories set in the eponymous locale of the Six Sentence Café & Bistro.)

Prompt word:

STYLE

“And don’t forget, ladies, post your dance schedules to your social media and link to the Club’s site, we’ll take care of the video feed,” Diane Tierney stood, half-in half-out of the swinging doors just behind Lou’s booth where she could watch the front door and the kitchen and the dressing room full of strippers,  “Salome, count your veils, last week you got to 13, I assure you, Rue will not be happy if you cut into her time, she is our headliner.”

She turned and almost collided with me, so naturally I smiled and managed a ‘Early Happy New Year, Diane, which earned me a distracted smile and a hand on my arm; I’ll take it.

Without the slight hint of glissando, the volume of the house-music dipped suddenly, causing the packed house to mutter un-spellable  interrogatives; Diane’s eyes change from a hush of purple to a flare of violet; say what you will about her personal life, the woman had style.

The shoals of revelers, including those who hoped to wish the owner, Lou Caesare, a happy New Year, which, not for nothin’ did not count against a body, went full-on Red Sea between the currently vacant hostess station and where I’d stepped back a step, putting me at Lou’s left shoulder; note to self: the glance of approval from the man at my possibly unintended stance of protectiveness made the previous 364 days way better.

For the first time in the three-and-a-half-years I’ve know Lou, this was the first time I’ve seen him get up from his side of the booth to greet a visitor.

Extending his hand to one of the Proprietors of the Six Sentence Café & Bistro, Lou’s eyes never left those of the young woman; the smile on his face would make the Mona Lisa consider shaving her head and getting a nose ring; my sole New Year’s resolution became to develop a tenth of the man’s style.

 

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- Part 2 [a Café Six]

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise it has but one rule: make it Six Sentences, binyons

This being a Six Sentence Café & Bistro story, it is most likely there will be other writers contributing views, perspectives and parallel (as well as intersecting) storylines. For example, our host, Denise’s first Six is set in the Café later on the same New Year’s Eve.

Prompt word:

STYLE

The tall, thin man, holding open the inner door, allowed himself to be caught in the riptide of cigarette smoke, Viktor & Rolfe and good, old-fashioned pheromones as Rosetta Storm swept into the Six Sentence Café & Bistro.

He spotted, in the fairly crowded club, his fellow Proprietors in their usual places; the Gatekeeper stood outside at the top of the three stairs leading down from the sidewalk to the Café, Charon didn’t have nothin’ on him; Chris, who, at times aka’d the scene as Raconteuse, was at her table just beyond the small stage, bathed in the halo of colors streaming from the laptop that served as anchor while she jaunted through worlds both fictional and real; Tom, visible in the kitchen by way of the porthole windows of the swinging doors, a ghost with a cleaver, he could be heard speaking to someone out of sight, “Well, faith ‘n begorra, I know it’s not ye style, why don’cha tell her off now …me head’s chocka, life’s too short lass.”

Walking towards their table, the tall, thin man heard friendly greetings and well-wishes from new customers and regulars, yet was enchanted by the glittering cascade of sequins that claimed to be his young companion’s evening dress, giving truth to the fact that magic spells draw the majority of their power from the soul of the target rather than the mind of the sorcerer.

Rosetta stopped at a table occupied by two couples and stood, an ever-so-slight cantilever to her left hip; there was a dip in the temperature of the air to make an 18th Century ghost hunter wail in envy; with barely a nod to the hapless group, Rosetta tossed her Birken clutch onto the table as the hapless foursome gathered their personal property and sought the social balm of being indistinguishable among the crowd of celebrants surrounding them.

The tall, thin man stepped behind the young woman at the now empty table; her smile was deflected by his grin as he contimued to scan the bar for one or both the remaining Proprietors, Mimi and the Bartender.

As carnal ransom, (or profane obeisance), Rosetta pressed back against the Proprietor’s hands as he held her chair, exceedingly confident of herself as well as her couture, and recalled her dresser’s shy comment earlier in the evening, “If the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, this dress is a reflection of the Underworld.”

 

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Tuesday -the Wakefield Doctrine- stop the presses!

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clark, scotts and rogers)

Hey! Finnallly!

We just had a person request insight into this little personality theory, vis á vis ‘How the Doctrine might be of use in a situation involving a clark and a scott.

New Readers? Not only have we not changed the names, we haven’t actually used any names. Two reasons: ‘We’re a clark“. (ProTip: while clarks are sought out for being good listeners, we are totally un-inclined to make use of the social currency manifest in the personal information such conversations so often convey. Ask any roger. ’nuff said.)

In any event, the question is how does a clark best handle a scott in a situation where they, (the scott), need to be directed down a different path than the one they are on. Very interesting question. In fact, (hold on, we’re gonna create a draft post on just this topic for later publication),…. there done!)

Thing of it is, the Wakefield Doctrine is for you, not them.  Yet, we maintain that with the Doctrine as an additional perspective on the world around us and the people who make it up, one can know more about the other person than they know about themselves. Both are true. And reconciling the seeming conflict between the attitude suggested is how the Wakefield Doctrine manifests as one of the more fun and useful tools for self-improving our selfs.

RePrint (from friend of the Doctrine Christine!)

Guest Post Thursday’s Guest Post! the Wakefield Doctrine (‘clarks think, scotts act and rogers feel‘)

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)climbing

Christine is our Guest Writer today. Everything that I know, like, respect and appreciate about her is inherent, implied and obvious in the following ‘how-we-met’ story.

back in Feb 2013, I came across a blog titled, Considerings. A good writer, (apparently) new to the ‘sphere and, despite being a clark, very open about the turmoil in her life. I began to write comments on her Posts, in the hope that something from the Doctrine perspective might prove to be useful/helpful. At this time, there were maybe 4 Comments for any given Post,  (and) made something of an initial connection. Then, totally out of the blue, I received  a Comment at the Doctrine, that read,

“I have been seeing your comments on Considerer’s posts, and was a bit curious as to what the clark/roger/scotts you mention means. Now that I’m here, I thought I had it figured out. I think. I do believe I’m a scott. But then I read this post, and got confused all over again. I’ll keep trying. :)”

my immediate reaction was to smile and think, ‘damn! Lizzi has a scottian friend! instinctively, unhesitatingly protective!’

Since that time, I’ve come to know Christine better, (from her blog and as a co-host at the TToT), and, whenever a New Reader says something like, ‘yeah, but don’t you have to ask the other person if they agree with the worldview thing?  how can I know about a person when I’ve just met them?… I smile.

…Christine?

On May 5, I did a dumb thing.  I played in a soccer game with a bunch of 7th and 8th graders.  That in itself isn’t dumb, but playing like it was the final game of the World Cup most certainly was.  Instead of letting the 8th grader just take the ball and try to shoot, I decided he wasn’t going to get a point on my watch and kicked it into high gear.  I beat him to the ball, like I knew I could, but when my foot planted, my body kept going.  I went down.  Think “agony of defeat” guy, without the skies, snow, and downhill parts but with the twisting, falling, crashing, and wailing.

To say I hurt my knee is an understatement.  The physical therapist actually said, “I must be honest, I stopped reading the list of things wrong with your knee halfway through.  You are messed up!”  Surgery is planned.

For the first week after the “major trauma” to my knee, I was unable to do much of anything.  I alternated between excruciating pain and loopiness from the pain medicine and just sat doing nothing all day long.  This is not a good thing for a person of my worldview.  According to the Wakefield Doctrine, I am a scott.  Clark has said many times that he was excited to have some scotts in the group of readers, so you clarks and rogers can get a better understanding of us.  Well, the day has come for him to really get inside my head to see how we operate.

A healthy scott on a school morning…

Get up before anyone else, cut up fruit, prepare breakfast, make sure kindergartener’s backpack has everything in it, fill out forms, write lunch checks, put kindergartener’s clothes out, make sure everyone brushes teeth, remind high schooler to take his phone, go over afternoon schedule with all, kisses and well wishes for the day as they all walk out the door.

An injured scott trapped in bed on a school morning…

Sit up in bed, listen intently to everyone downstairs, grumble that no one is eating anything but cereal, silently scream in her head “For the love of all that is holy, how hard is it to get a piece of fruit or hard boiled egg out of the fridge”, catch a glimpse of a child who dressed in uniform pants he pulled out of his gym bag for the 4th day in a row and holler for him to find a new pair, grumble when he pretends not to hear, take note of how many kids make it to their bathroom to brush teeth, grumble when only 3 out of 5 do, pray that husband has given the kindergartener the kindergartener’s clothes to wear and not his older brother’s, mentally go through the list of things to remind the children, spew entire list at husband when he comes in the bedroom to say goodbye, grumble when he only remembers one thing on the list, pitifully yell to the family “Don’t forget to come say goodbye,” then grumble when no one hears.

A healthy scott at the 8th grade graduation dinner…

Make way to table that “clark” husband has chosen,  stopping to chat with no less than 5 people along the way, finally sit down when emcee asks the group to take their seats, scan the room constantly to see who is there, who they are sitting with, what they’re wearing, chat with at least 5 more people as we wait in line at the buffet, talk with the other people at my table while I eat, get up to get a dessert and never make it back to the table, (so many people to talk to!), get drug out by husband once all but the cleanup crew has left.

An injured scott at the 8th grade graduation dinner…

Slowly hobble in on crutches, stop to talk with no one but answer, “What did you do to yourself?” with a swift, “Played soccer with the kids” at least 30 times, sit at the table as soon as I can and stay there for the duration of the party, eat whatever husband brings back from the buffet, watch with envy as everyone has fun, leave as soon as 8th grader will allow.

A healthy scott during the day…

Shower, do laundry, feed chickens, check to make sure pigs are alive, mow lawn, do more laundry, check social media multiple times, do more laundry, pick up, organize, do more laundry, make all meals, clean kitchen, and basically run ragged all day long.

An injured scott during the day…

Sit on the couch and notice the furniture needs dusting, the floor needs scrubbed, the toys need put away, the socks discarded all around need picked up, the shoes the kids carelessly left at the door need put away;  ponder all of the things most likely being neglected in other rooms, like the laundry piling up the clutter of school and soccer paraphernalia being scattered around the house, the pigs getting sicker and sicker, the bathroom floor getting covered with towels and shin guards and dirty clothes and random crap left in there, and dirty dishes being left all over the counters and the tables; order all children to do all the things; bite tongue almost off in an effort to not yell, “YOU ARE DOING ALL OF THE THINGS WRONG!!”

An injured clark or roger in physical therapy…

I have no idea.  Clark will have to fill you in on this.

An injured scott in physical therapy…

Talk to the therapist about good pain and bad pain, talk and laugh with all other therapists and patients throughout the session, religiously follow all instructions and do all exercises at home, ice the knee three times a day, then two days after the first therapy appointment, come off the crutches and shock all therapists with the progress made.

We scotts are doers.  We scotts work a room (or field) like a boss.  We scotts play with all we’ve got.  Sometimes in all of that doing we crash and burn, but by golly, we are going to be the best damn patients you ever saw in our effort to get back to doing and working and playing.

But I would caution you to avoid us during our days of not doing.  We might be a bit on the grouchy side.

Have a lovely day!

headshot

Christine

 

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