It’s Six Sentence Story Thursday Link Up!

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge and another edition of Six Sentence Stories! Holiday. No, not the song. The act. Going on holiday, vacances, fiesta, jou ferye. Whether a few days or a couple of weeks, the benefits remain. Cease the typical day to day and give over to one’s body to lead the way to a more relaxed state. However…..interrupting the weekly routine does not, I repeat, does not apply to Six Sentence Stories 😀 I agree with Mr. Pullman’s statement below. Therefore, holiday or no, I invite you all, no matter where on this planet you be at the moment, to participate in the Six Sentence Story Blog Hop. Fiction, fantasy, poetry, excerpt from writing project – if you’ve got exactly 6 sentences, we’d love for you to share them. Read you soon!

Rules of the hop:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word.
Link the URL to your post via the blue “Click here to enter” button below.
Link is live Wednesday through Saturday night late!
Spread the word and put in a good one to your fellow writers  😀


You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.” ― Philip Pullman

Today. Yes, Yes it is a TToT.

Where do I begin? What is the starting point? Where is the starting point. Which one? My head holds a myriad of flash intros each screaming, vying to be headliner. How do/can/will I know which one is the right one for this…this version of reality? Even as I write these words, I doubt the font type currently appearing was the same font as when I opened this post. To borrow from Calderon, is everything but a dream….

Thanks to constant interrupted sleep last night, I awakened this morning at the sound of an incoming text. I’m thankful for that as I dare not think how long I may have slept. Already, the day had been re-arranged, re-ordered for me by my body. By the intermittent leg/foot pretzels that plagued me throughout the overnight. “I am an old woman, named after my mother, my old man is another child that’s grown old”. Even now, I wander the highway of multidimensional reality. Why the hell not 🙂

I will, being sleep deprived (there can be very enjoyable special effects garnered from interrupted sleep), on the verge of getting sick? attempt to put some cohesive tape on this botch job of a post…it all began….last night, as I turned out the light thinking it was going to be a typical, lay in bed, go to sleep, sleep until morning kind of night, I lay, lights out listening to youtube. The last 2 songs I listened to were Don’t Speak and Someone Like You. Neither are new songs. Neither are played on the radio here (Don’t Speak I’ve heard once or twice but not in ages). At least the stations I listen to. Driving to work, I heard both these songs. Back to back. Now you might say, what’s so weird about that? Here’s what’s weird. The brief conversation I’d had with Clark pulling away from the house 20 minutes earlier. It culminated in his statement/observation that my previous (work) timeline was reclaiming it’s self proclaimed, rightful place here on this, my new timeline. What? Whatch you talkin’ bout Willis?? And so, the briefiest discussion of the re-emergence of pattern, habit, routine. Engrained like the groove in one’s favorite record. Impervious to the switch to digital media, habits and routine cannot be erased, cannot be altered sufficiently for them not to resurface to reclaim their rightful position, steering you to those places it would have you be because, after all, we’re all where we would have ourselves be. We are living in our perfect world. (go ahead Clark. I know I could never explain it. The words are not in my brain any longer lol)

This is a jumbletron of words. Like “sitting at my desk at work at 11:45 this morning, I was overcome with an incredibly strong feeling of deja vu.” The kind where you believe you know right at that moment the next thing you had done/will do. And so I thought, is this simply a facet of timeline replication? Is it the “feeling of having done this before” or was it simple resonation of familiarity of habit?

I think perhaps the lines were bleeding one into the other today. Blending, melding, criss crossing. In a way, I hope so. Otherwise, how is it I can ever discover anything “new”? How will I keep routine, habit at bay. How will I keep my body from playing in the worn rut left by the needle that has traversed the same song for 57 years.

TTOTimelines (yes! I’m stealing that from Clark! That clever Doctrine guy who plagues me, lectures me, yet manages to keep me sane). I am participating today. Somewhere. LOL

For the Wakefield Doctrine

For last weekend. Achieving goals, spending time with my favorite small humans. We had a wonderful “nature walk” on Sunday to round out the weekend.

For increasing knowledge, little by little in my new profession.

For only getting ,my face “burned” 3 times by my dermatologist.

For the sense that I will write, will complete Annaliese’s Dream, though it’s barely begun.

For the YouTube.

For my physical stamina. It’s pretty damn good.

For not totally, completely giving up participating in the virtual world. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have read Kristi Campbell’s very fine Finish the Sentence Friday post. Check it out. Her writing. It’s good. Like damn good.

For the BOSR/SBOR. No. Not quoting a rule. Just a general thanks for it’s existence 🙂

For this, another opportunity. For this, both my first and my last day.

Do you know where you are? You sure?

Show Love with No Remorse. Thank you RHCP. Thank You.

(Begun Friday, basically completed yesterday, posting today…really?? *sigh*…yes)

Can I ever say enough good things about the Chili Peppers? I think not! Their music is one of the many maps of my life’s atlas. In particular, By The Way. This collection represents a specific time when life took an unexpected turn. Yes. There were casualties.

I walk through the world with body defected. Heart pitted with the healing of life’s abscesses, holes hollowed throughout. “Time heals all wounds”, so they say. Know what’s just as powerful? Music. It heals, it hurts, it deepens the emotion of the moment. It is refuge, it is magic. It is life.

In the interim of the here and there, there are moments. Moments that can be days. Like yesterday. My car doesn’t have a serious radio LOL. Regular airwaves (I love playing this song! A simple bass line, it’s a blast to play) Last morning coummute of the week, radio on. 1st up? this. Wouldn’t call myself a fan of this guy, but today I really got into this song. My entire person. What was it that hyped me up? I was the music all the way to Rockville.

It was a bee-u-tifullll summer day. A perfect beach day (if I lived near the beach). And! It was Friday. Maybe it’s a body thing. The body never forgets. Not fully. And so, I knew on a very basic organic level that today was Friday. I could feel it. Today was a spontaneous, all music is energizing and life giving day. Today was all about emotional content. And it was good.

It’s Saturday afternoon. Do I have a 10 spot? Yeah, I think so…

One. The Red Hot Chili Peppers. In particular, Flea. Once upon a time, as a young woman, Anthony Jackson held top spot for years as my favorite bass player. (“I’m sorry Anthony. Flea. It’s Flea. I still love you but, um, when I hear Flea play my heart seizes from the sheer beauty of his expression. Forgive me?”)

Tue. Magic, stubborness and stupidity and not giving up.

3. clark, scott, roger. The Progenitors. Each are a chapter (maybe a couple or 2) in my bio.

Four. And I ain’t talkin’ cheese. Except maybe on the surprize pizza yesterday courtesy of one of the attorneys.

Five. That my test results showed the osteo not getting worse.

6. Got to go with the weather. Hope I don’t jinx anything but the weather the last 5 days has been extrodinarily lovely.

Seven. That I was house sitting again so that right at this moment I’m enjoying an absolutely perfect day sitting under a patio umbrella. Light breeze, pre-fall light, not a cloud in the azure blue sky…someone just lit up a barbeque.

8. I really get stuck sometimes. Stage fright? Sounds awful ‘cuz there are thoughts cruising in and out of my consciousness during the week that would certainly qualify as “thankfuls”. Like having my senses in good working order. That I can see, not only look. That I can hear, not simply listen. That if no words come out of my mouth at least they’re there, stumbling, maybe tumbling ’round the inside of my head.

Nine. the Wakefield Doctrine and scotts!  All I have to do is look at #8 and realize this is not all that complicated. Keep it short, simple and to the point! So next time? 10 ToT scottian style.

10. If I have nothing, I have this moment. And that’s good enough.

“Never underestimate the power in a single moment or act”

No Throw-Back. Re-Wind. Edge Style.

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge. It is Thursday once again. I’m thankful to be able to say that. Thursdays are quickly becoming a significant day of the week. Not only for my own self but for many writers here in the blog-spherical universe.

Who do we have to thank? Ambassador to Josie Two Shoes, Ivywalker. She hosts the bloghop event known as Six Sentence Stories. I really like reading these flash sentence posts. I marvel at how some writers are able to draw 6 sentences out with seemingly magical ease to give the illusion of much, much more material. Crazy!

And it seems Six Sentence Stories has fast become a vehicle by which some of our favorite writers are showing off writing chops the likes of which we’ve not seen before. Case in point? Dyanne Diabolica. Forgive me whoever dubbed our beloved Dyanne with this moniker, I don’t remember you but you surely hit the nail on the head. Dyanne’s Stories will amuse, surprise and shock!

I look forward to what Misspreschoolkindergartensmallhumantoschoolthere teacher turned murder mystery/thriller crime story writer extraordinaire has penned each and every Thursday. And she’s got plenty of company so there’s no excuse – how long will it take to read 6 sentences? Huh? So make the rounds, share and show your support. It’s the fun thing to do 🙂

When I walked the overgrown path, weaving in and out and around the ancient stones, moss covered now from ages gone by, no bodies to burnish them smooth, I let my mind wander to a time of simplicity and dare, naivete and youthful indulgence

Adult but not, we were fueled with the fire of unbridled ambition borne at 16 behind the wheel of a Ford Galaxie 500, green like all the traffic lights on the dream highway of life to come, ne’er blinking for one second to make us doubt our immortality

Drunk with youthful inexperience, ebullient in our longing and desires, we moved forward, sometimes in the haze and daze of confusion to find at minium a flickering matchstick flame there at the end of each tunnel

Trouble never came around invited and rarely made an appearance yet lurked in the shadows eagerly awaiting special invitation to shine as only the contrary can in moments of opportunity gone bad

Life then as life now, portrayed realistically for general viewing pleasure is but illusion and fools only those who do not, can not, will not, face that which is, whatever we once thought, remembered, created and believed is nothing

And everything and all but gone with the wind


All Roads Lead to The Edge

Flashback to Spring, 1992. I’m driving a white, 1982 Volkswagon Rabbit. The back seats are loaded with boxes and bags containing pieces/remants of my life. Direction? North. 2 miles from the southern border of R.I. this song is playing. Seared forever into my body, my soul, my heart – these words, this voice, a feeling transcending the intellectual.

As if having walked forever an arid wasteland desert, my body tasted a thing intangible. Lips whetted by something intangible, my body drank of  an emotional, acknowledgement the thing that had no words. I was returning from a  journey, I was returning home. I knew the very moment my car crossed the state line I had made the right decision. Not to move. A little over a year later, the man who blessed my decision to try something new, build a new life somewhere else, was dead. Yes. I’d made the right decision. I did not waste the last year of my father’s life.

Flashback to yesterday, Friday, July 3, 2015. I’m driving a dark blue, 2001 Honda Accord. The back seats hold my laptop, some clothing, and an overnight bag. Direction? North. 2 miles from the southern border of R.I., this song is playing. Hit to the body. 23 years later.

Ten Things of Thankful BlogHop.

I woke up today.

After driving for almost 8.5 hours yesterday, one of the many venturing the highways for the long, holiday weekend I arrived safely at my destination.

Being  the passenger in a Mini-Cooper, convertable top down, known to travel at 140 mph (not really but a cute story), on my way to the beach.

Walking the beach with my sister-in-law at dusk, finding a lifeguard tower, climbing up and waiting for the moon to ascend from the ocean. Red ball took it’s time. Magnificent.

The greeting I received from my brother and his wife’s dog. I got out of the car and dashing down the stairs and rushing towards me was a beautiful ball of mostly black fur. The excitement of canine greetings after time away is, as they say, priceless.

That my bank accounts were not drained as a result of my check cards being compromised. Was I being rogerian Thursday night thinking  I was the only one this happened to? LOL No. My bank restricted a ton of cards as a result of “unusual activity”.

Part 2 of last entry – that my bank was open yesterday. Otherwise, I would not be sitting here. Here? The back porch of above referenced brother and wife’s house. Birds chirping, dog barking, plane in the distance, cloud cover, not hot, peaceful. I really can suspend time.

That I didn’t break my shoulder yesterday morning. But damn if it doesn’t hurt today. (reminder: do something about the “old person” thing)


That I’m a clark? I’ve put a question mark because at first, I thought, well, I can be thankful I’m a clark because I can “handle” the flood of thoughts and emotion that beset me last night driving by my old apartment and the beach I lived across from for so long. Then, it hit me. I was thankful for the abilities I possess as a clark to control my emotions, to deflect and sublimate (for the time being) the unpleasant, uncomfortable, and enjoy the pleasant, present and positive things of the moment.  

Stop today, for a moment. Look. Listen. Experience. Your self in the world.



1 Ferry. 2 Trains. I Made It To The Edge.

Yesterday, I’d set the alarm for 5:30 am. A whopping 75 minutes later than every other day. Should I have been surprised I barely heard the tiny alarm bells ringing not 2 feet from my ear? My body could have slept for another hour easily but….it was a day I’d “planned” (to a certain extent). I found quite quickly my “plans” had fallen apart. The ink had barely dried when I discovered my timetable of events got all kinds of blown to hell.

But! I had a “plan” b. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but in case you don’t remember. I eliminated the word “plan” from my vocabulary some years back. I don’t normally use it in conversation. If pressed I will refer to it (the concept of “plan”) as an “option”.  Option sounds more…flexible. More amenable to alteration without the implication of failure. Ya know?

I stepped out into an early morning mist. Spring it seems was being stubborn! Harboring the sun behind dark, pillowy clouds, she spat on the earth in disgusted bouts of selfishness. Sluggish, the clouds hung heavy and threatened their own retaliation. I would not be dissuaded. No sir.

My frist T-ful is that once I embarked upon the non “plan” nka “option”, the sky gradually cleared it’s throat (where did that come from? gross!) to reveal a gorgeous sky of youthful blue. Hey! You know this is a Ten Things of Thankful, right? I mean, it may be late but it’s still the weekend!

Blues skies, blue car. What more could a Girlie ask for as she heads out and away from the city on a Saturday morning. First stop, hair cut. Been 6 months since my last one. Now that my office has moved to MD, I don’t have the convenience of going down to the 1st floor anymore to get my hair done. 2.5″ off the length, 1″ off the top. I love it! That was going to be my #2 but I’ve got to amend that. No wait! I’ll retract that amendment and raise you my #3.

I’ve only been going to this stylist for about a year. It’s not like we’re best friends. But I get her. I like her. And she’s a clark. With a strong secondary scottian aspect. And so we relate. When she was ready for me, we greeted each like long lost friends. We chatted a bit about what to do style wise. She remembered that the last time I was in to see her was under sad circumstances. She remembered I’d had a death in the family. I didn’t expect that. Here’s the thing I’m grateful for. Her hug. So out of the freakin’ blue. Once finished doing my hair, she walked me to the front desk to check out. We had the parting chit chat, “no, I’m good on the products yada, yada” and suddenly she walks over and gives me a damned hug. I hugged her back. I don’t know why she did that but it was nice. Maybe she could sense I needed one. I don’t know.

4. Did I mention the weather? And that I was driving away from the hustle bustle? However long or short I headed towards Leesburg and turned on to the Rt 15 bypass. I’d heard about a little ferry that ran across the Potomac River to Maryland. I’ve got nowhere else to be why not! 5 miles off of Rt 7, I hung a right on White’s Ferry Rd. a narrow, winding road that cuts through expansive farmland. Very much a country road. As I approach the part with a sharp curve I see a deer standing in the middle of it (the road, not the farmland). She looks at me and doesn’t get out of the way until I’m almost on top of her. It was breathtaking. So pretty. So peaceful. Road and doe.

5. I’m thankful I enjoy driving and seeing new places. Most importantly, I’m thankful I drive well. I used to think that maybe I was a race car driver in a past life. lol Not that I drive really fast. It’s not about the speed.

I’m only at 6 and I’ve got a rambling 670 words! Even I’m falling asleep. OK. Let’s get all scottian and put this baby (and Girlie) to bed. Number 6! Being all caught up at work. I’ve been doing the work of 2 since my partner in crime semi-retired. She will be working PT from home beginning tomorrow. Yeah. I’m jealous 🙂

7) Sunday. I slept until, what? 7? If not, it was close to it. This weekend has been a challenge. It’s been a weekend where I wanted to see what I couldn’t. Except once you want a thing it looms larger than life inside your head. Unless you can distract yourself and somehow still be prepared. Without trying. No! That was not very scottian at all! LOL

8) I drove to Manassas today to sell my car (the now extra one). I drove there not having a ride back to Alexandria. I didn’t let secondary factors keep me from my primary objective. If you don’t ask the question, you can’t really know the answer. Sometimes you get surprised. I asked for a ride to the Vienna Metro. I got a ride to the Vienna Metro. Which brings me to the 2 trains. Orange Line to Blue Line.

And my #9. The train rides were good. I like riding trains. They’re very much like tubular time capsules, little escapes hatches. For you hockey fans? Seems the Caps were playing tonight. I know this only from seeing no less than 30 people standing on the platform in pretty much the same team jersey. Apparently a lot of people like No. 8. (hold on. did a google search. aha! it’s the playoffs). Can’t seem to drag out the scott in me so I shall slog on. I’ve saved the best for last. You see, once I arrived at the Franconia-Springfield station, I was still without a ride. Well, my dr. told me a year ago I needed to walk. So today I did. I’m guessing 5 miles or so. It may have taken me 1.5 hours to walk from the metro station but you know what? I’m so very thankful I’m physically able to do such things.

Last, but never least, is my #10 thankful for another day. As I walked this evening, I realized how lucky I am. In spite of less than optimum life circumstances, all of what I needed today was made available to me. If you look in the right direction, there’s a good chance you can see what it is you can’t always see…



Red is the Color of my Edge

I’ve been painting my toenails the color red since sometime in my 20’s. No particular shade except to say, on the dark side. LOL That makes me laugh. Being a clark and all, ya know, “dark side”? If you’re not a clark, can’t help ya. But you can go here.

Once upon a time a long time ago, putting on the new coat was infused with power. You see, in my mind, applying a new coat of red nail polish represented getting ready for “battle”. I removed the old polish, and readied my nails for the “new” polish. A metaphor for “watch out world, here I come“.  A metaphor/coping tool/mind trick for yet another round of “I can do this“.

“I can do this”.  Whatever the challenge. Small, insignificant, large, overwhelming… STOP! I know! My writing suffers from a lack of descriptive words. There’s an absence of adjectives and such that “real” writers, good ones, use to paint a word picture. Extra words that tantalize and cajole and make a reader want more. Words that capture their imagination.

OK. Whatever. Something I’ll work on? Up until now, the response would have been an enthusiastic “yes!“.  Not so much at the moment. At the moment I’m struggling with clarklike things. I’m struggling with the realization of my own self, lack of self, lack of accomplishment, the languishing and the recognition of zero forward momentum. I’m smelling the stench of stagnation that sets in from residual effects of the backlash associated with massive timeline changes. And lastly, my body’s reminder that the life I face might have been different. Should have been different. Isn’t and can never be.

In my experience, epiphanies occur in 1 of 3 places: the bathroom (not very romantic, but damn, if it isn’t true), the car while driving (no amount of gas and road can take you where you want/need to be) and lastly, in bed just as you’re about to drift off to sleep. (think you can hide out in the unconscious?!) One of these epiphanies occured during Friday’s evening commute. Yeah, just what I needed while driving the Capital Beltway at 65 mph.

Last Friday’s evening commute reality bite? It’s too late. There comes a time in life when it’s “too late” to live your passion. For me, that discovery, realizing the one thing that made time stop, came late in life – early 30’s, maybe late 20’s. The one thing I could totally immerse myself in. Sorry Girlie! Missed the exits. Veered a little too off course. No re-entry to the highway”Runner up? Not bad. Hit the road, drifted a tad and then, as is often the case with my people, veered wildly off course. Damn. Now what? Another option. But oops! fucked that up too.

Blah, blah, blah. I’m done. 3 strikes! Yer out! I never thought about what it’d be like spending the rest of my life on the “bench”. Guess I’d best go grab me some Grizzly and try an figure that one out.

“Batter up!”




Meet Me At the Edge.

This, my first post of Year 2015. Pink Floyd shall speak their words and they shall be mine. For today. The first day.

I’ll see everyone here, at the Edge, later and again, for the first time and maybe the last. I’ll see you here for all that can be, might and will be. The Edge is the place of possibility, the frontier of dreams.

Post Script: What you see up there? 2 paragraphs and a vid? That was my New Year’s Post at 9:20 am this morning. Until I decided, “naah – too easy, selfish…” So I’m back. In the spirit of full disclosure (‘cuz that’s what I decided 5 minutes ago, that this year was gonna be about) I’m going to tell you everything about me at this very moment and what I plan to do after I hit the Publish button.

…. it’s beautiful today. Bright sunshine (to allow for full disclosure). The high temps should reach mid to upper 40’s. I walked earlier today. It was quiet, peaceful. Nice start.

Just got out of the shower.  I started thinking about what I should do first. I don’t want to hole up in the apt. As a clark, this is very tempting. I could read, write, watch a movie…No-o-o! The world isn’t inside, it’s out there!

Btw, I’m not sitting on the bed writing like I always do. No sir. I’m standing up, bending over slightly. The laptop sits in front of me on a drafting table. I face the large, red curtained window, sun streaming in. (you know, to shine on full disclosure).

What to wear today. Same old same old? Of course not! This is 2015! My mind is made up. I will wear my gray, 100% cotton, Size 5, Union Bay, cargo pants. (they feel like nylon to me).

Unmentionables – courtesy of Candies. Both pieces black w/white lace. (you’re sharing details of your intimates?! are you mad? whadya mean commitment to full disclosure? wtf!)

Maintenant, what to wear on mes pieds? Easy. Black, Madden Girl Motorrr boots with ever soft lavender plaid lining. Yes. They’re a 12 eyelet, zipper up the back pair of “combat” boots. What else for this clarklike female to wear out into the werld on this first afternoon of 2015?!

After I slip black socks over my Essie painted toenails in Macks (a very lovely shade of red) , I shall lace up the boots and choose my shirt and sweater. The color scheme today seems to have manifested in tones of grey/black. A splash of color is in order. Nothing garish. Subtle is the word of the day. 1st layer (there are often layers, even with full disclosure) will be a white v neck, 3/4 sleeve cotton shirt over which I will wear a 50% angora, 50% lambs wool, peach colored sweater. Toasty soft.

I will leave the confines of these 4 walls wearing my black, full length woolen Forecaster of Boston, coat. Simple, straight lines, it has a velvet collar and 2 side pockets. I can’t won’t wear clothing that does not contain pockets. Pockets hold not only hands when they’re cold (or self conscious) but any number of useful things. Or found things. Like seashells. (in the spirit of full disclosure, I would often stuff my pockets with treasures of sea glass, shells and such when once I walked upon beaches.)

On the hands? Fingerless gloves of course. It’s about dexeterity. Life is about dexterity.

Time to hit the Publish button. Time to leave. It is about here but for this Girlie? This year it’s about Out There. See you next time we meet at the Edge.




Thursday was my Tuesday

But ya know what? It wasn’t twice as bad. Nope. But it was rather “somnabulistic” for severe lack of sleep. My most memorable moment from Thursday (T-ful #1) came in the early a.m. drive to work. Barely 3 miles out from the apt., approaching the 95 overpass via the “new traffic pattern” (T-ful#2 for the life reminder), I glanced at the driver’s side view mirror. If you had been a passenger in my car you would have heard me exclaim reverently “wow”.

There, appearing in the mirror was an engorged, oversized sphere, suspended above the horizon. Surrounded by the most beautifully hued reds and pinks, and just a splash of dreamcicle orange. It was breathtaking. Had there been an audience within my car, the sight would have inspired all kinds of oos and ahs.  So powerful this vision I had to physically turn my head, just for a moment (I am on a major highway lol), to glimpse head on (reminder to self about life) a moment in time that in minutes would no longer exist. (ok already, I get it. only today. no tomorrow) (T-ful#3)

I’m thankful for those types of moments. In time. In the vast expanse that is my life, surely there are millions of such moments. Stored as if bytes of information on the hard drive that is my heart and soul. It is now 1 day into another TToT Blog Hop. I’ve decided not to chastize myself for writing this post, for participating in this most wonderful of blog hops.(T-ful #4) No sir. Why should I? If I write nothing more than a post a week, do nothing more, share it with others, why would I be so hard on myself? And yet…..

I went home over the Labor Day holiday weekend. Semi-spur of the moment. A couple of days prior to leaving I started hearing a song on the radio. One of my favorites except you don’t hear it on the radio much. At least around these parts. Then I heard it once on my return journey. I sang along quite loudly in my car. Here, take a listen. (T-ful#5)

As a clark, I assigned significance to hearing this prior to my journey. Just as I assigned significance to another song very rarely heard. Which I heard only in R.I. (home). That particular song is not so welcome. Associated with my father’s dying, it is a song which I immediately turn off once I’ve identified it. I heard it 2x while driving in my home state. Only this time, I did not turn it off, did not turn the dial. I listened. Let my body listen. (T-ful#6).

It has been over a decade since I last visited my homeland. A whirlwind trip, it was understatedly powerful. There were no words (still no words) for what I was feeling, for it is was a totally physical experience. By that I mean my body was assimilating being there. Trying to process the steady stream of emotions running beneath the sights and sounds, places and people. (T-ful #7)

Attempting to configure the placement of my own self. There. (Here). On the planet. In space. In time. It was a moment in time. Too short. Incomplete.

If you all don’t mind, I think I’ll save my last 3 T-fuls for tomorrow….

Lizzi, Laura? This is the song I mentioned last night…that you guys would like:)

“Yes, Virginia. 6 Did turn out to be 9…”

…and there are allies* at the Edge. I feel a need to write a followup to my post for yesterday’s TToT. Revelations, inspirations, confirmations, affirmations. I feel a need to acknowledge all of those “tions” on the big screen. I have Clark of the Wakefield Doctrine fame to thank for that realization.(“geez, Clark. Thanks a lot *sarcasm dripping outta my mouth*) Got to give credit where credit is due, right? LOL . Hey, it’ still the weekend. Make that Thankful #1.

So last night I called in to the Saturday Night Wakefield Doctrine Drive Call In. I don’t think I’ve missed a call in show in all the years it’s been in existence. (Yo! TToT #2)  Conversation began in typical fashion with the exchange of “pleasantries”. It soon came around to blogs and writing. Clark mentioned he’d left a comment at my post. “Yes, I saw. Thank you.” was my response. He then asked if I realized I had messed up on my numbering at the end.

“What? Damn! Really? Fuck! Had no idea! I remembered going over it carefully. In fact, I remembered a little edit at the end where, at that time, at least I thought, I made sure the numbers ran sequentially 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Wasn’t I being all clever today I thought. How to get away without listing a full 10 Things of Thankful… I can skip at least 4 of them by jumping straight away to #10 by employing the “if 6 was 9” rule. Not to be confused with SR 95.05 whereupon it states, and I quote: “any TToT Post wherein a genuine desire has been established for the listing of 10 items can be amended such that the 10th item is arrived at by sincere and thought out means.” This my friends is most certainly TToT #3, #4, #5, #6, #7 and #8.

Still on the phone, I quickly go to my post. Re-reading it, I realize sure enough, I doubled up on #2 and #3. But wait! Count the numbers again, including the duplicate ones. What do they add up to? Now go and read the last paragraph again:

“if 6 did turn out to be 9 today. And! If I had already written 6 of my 10 thankfuls like everyone is expected to :1) another day I woke up, 2) sunshine and blue sky today, 3) a fully functional body, 2) a job, 3) music, 4) a working car, 5) summer berries, 6) health insurance, then that would leave me with having one thankful left. Therefore, I conclude with thanks for believing and witnessing personal power.”

So there I was thinking myself all clever like. Listing 10 things of thankful without really listing 10 things. But I screwed up. Hey. That’s #8 right there – if I realize I’ve made a mistake, I try to correct it. To make it right. In this case. Look closer. Maybe, just maybe it wasn’t a mistake?! Count from #1, including the “doubled” # 2 and #3. They add up to 8. My very last item makes 9.

No. I did not do any of that on a conscious level. Today’s #’s 9 and #10? The “doing” of a thing without the realization that on some other level you are “doing” something else and then being lucky enough, after the fact, to be able to go back and see and wonder how…..6 did, in fact, turn out to be 9.

*Reference to Carlos Castenada’s books. “An ally will make you see and understand things about which no human being could possibly enlighten you.”