Here are a few of my favorite things: the

Here are a few of my favorite things: the smell of fresh ground coffee, 49er football, when my kids are running toward me, getting into a groove on a nicely mogeled ski slope,

or are my favorite things raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens? It's always confusing in December. For example, the last time I got a brown paper package tied up with string

cheese I was totally stoked because I could eat the cheese. But I just sit here and think about what my favorite things are because I am so important to myself,

and couldn't imagine thinking about anyone else. As I was self-absorbing, the doorbell rang. "What!". I answered rudely, then the sweetest voice I ever heard answered. She

was exactly like I imagined: tall, skinny and with big soft smile. She stepped into the room full of confidence as usual and said:

"Gumby! Gumby! I'm your number one fan!" Gumby gave a quick glance and summoned his bodyguards, "The Blockheads" to put some distance between himself and herself.

searched for pressure points that could force the fleshy arms to release him, but to no avail. "So this is what death smells like," he thought to himself, as his words were of no

use to himself or the person dead that held him trapt. He was wounded and needed to get help sooner rather than later. Then a thought accured to him, he had no one there for him

but himself. And if all the lonely people in the world were grouped together, they'd form the largest nation on the planet. He scooped his wound and stumbled out into the street.