Sunday Seven - Favorite Muppets

In the early 1960’s the legendary Jim Henson began creating characters that would come to be known as Muppets.

He liked to tell reporters that he combined the words marionette and puppet to come up with his own name, but it would later be revealed that he just liked the name and rolled with it.

There are plenty of Muppet characters to choose from, but this week’s question only asks for seven.

THIS WEEK’S QUESTION:
Name your seven favorite Muppet characters.

Barbara's list:

1. Gonzo the Great
2. The Swedish Chef
3. Fozzie Bear
4. Rowlf
   
5. Beaker
   
6. Miss Piggy
7. Kermit
   

Event TV

I just happened upon a description of tomorrow night's edition of Bill Moyers Journal, which you all know is one of my favorite shows. In fact, the only current events/news program I enjoy as much is Countdown with Keith Olbermann, which is Must-See TV around the Raymond household.

Imagine my delight, then, to discover that tomorrow's episode of BMJ will feature an interview with the man himself, Mr. Keith Olbermann. It's like a wonky liberal's wet dream... I have to admit, I'm drooling a bit in an uncontrollable Pavlovian response to the mere thought of the juicy tidbits to come. For me, it's a bit like getting to see the Beatles play with Springsteen. Sad, I know, but it's true.

In a strange coincidence, I rated Olbermann and Moyers as numbers 1 and 2 respectively in a meme post just 4 days ago, in which the task was to list your 7 Most Trusted news anchors/reporters. Of course, now I've become suspicious that I have magical powers over time and space which somehow brought on this wonderful confluence of events...

You see, this isn't the first time that I've caused something to happen on my TV by sheer force of will. Just ask Mark - he says I'm not allowed to speak anymore during serial dramas like Heroes, 24 or The Sopranos because I keep killing off characters.

It's not that I claim responsibility for every fictional TV death I witness - there are plenty that I don't see coming. But from time to time, for some inexplicable reason, I feel the uncontrollable urge to point at the screen and say "He/she is going to die RIGHT NOW", at which point the character in question inevitably expires within seconds. Several times it has happened immediately, before I even finished my sentence, and it always happens before I can put my hand down. I'm not sure if it's the pointing or the words that do the deed - possibly it's a combination of the two.

As if that weren't disturbing enough, I've also pinpointed the cause of the death in every case - i.e. assassin's bullet, heart attack, poison gas. Sometimes these are a gimme (when Fox runs commercials for a week about a poison gas attack on the next episode of 24, it's not exactly rocket science to figure out that someone will die), but in several cases the deaths were "Big Surprise" plot points which I somehow anticipated.

I would be more specific, but I hate spoilers, so I don't want to ruin any plot points for people who may not have seen the shows in question. Suffice to say that, while I just find the whole thing amusing, Mark is convinced that I have some sort of supernatural power over the life and death of fictional characters. I think maybe he just watches too much Heroes.

Anyway, I'm tingling in anticipation for Keith on BMJ tomorrow night. Just to be on the safe side, though, I'd better sit on hands throughout the show... I'd hate to accidentally assassinate one of the Most Trusted men in news.

A Bit of Christmas Cheer

No matter how Christmas-y we feel, we never quite manage to get our outdoor decorations put up. There's always too much bad weather, or a plague like we had this year, that keeps us from having a festive outdoor display. Which is really too bad, because admiring Christmas lights is one of my favorite pastimes.

I do have lots of ideas, though - you know, for when we're millionaires and can afford to buy whatever we want & hire someone else to install & remove it each year. If that ever happened, I have a feeling we might end up with something like this:

Sunday Seven

I thought it might be a fun change of pace to take part in the Sunday Seven at Patrick's Place. Hat tip to Saoirse Daily2 for the inspiration...

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Years ago, Walter Cronkite was known as the most trusted man in America.

But these days, when it comes to national newscasters, who do you trust most? Which ones are the most likely to give you the straight dope on what’s really going on in the world? Start thinking now, because that’s this week’s topic. And note that I’m specifying national (or network) newscasters so that everyone can immediately have an idea of who you’re talking about without getting lost in the list of local-only anchor/reporters.

On to this week’s question!

THIS WEEK’S QUESTION:
Name seven of the living national (or network) anchors you trust the most.

Either answer the question in a comment or answer it in your journal and include the link in a comment. (To be considered “first to play,” a link must be to the specific entry in which you answered the question.) You may include this link in the URL space when leaving your comment, or in the comment itself. As long as it’s there in one spot or the other.

1.) Keith Olbermann (no surprise there)
2.) Bill Moyers
3.) Jon Stewart (perhaps a sad comment on the state of American media, but there you have it)
4.) Christiane Amanpour
5.) Tim Russert
6.) Bob Schieffer
7.) Anderson Cooper

How was your day?

Sometimes everything just seems to go right. The stars just line up and good luck follows you no matter where you go or what you do. Or so I've heard.

This was not one of those days.

I set my alarm this morning, so I'd be sure to have plenty of time to get ready for one of my favorite traditions: the Raymond family Young Ladies' Tea, which is scheduled once a year around Christmastime. My lovely and talented sister-in-law Patty arranges this awesome event each year, and it's always a ton of girly fun.

This year's tea took place at 1:00 in the afternoon, so the fact that I had to set my alarm to be ready should give you some idea of how pitiful my life is on a day-to-day basis. Anytime I need to be up before noon, I always have to set my alarm. It's possible that I might wake up before that, but I can't count on it.

But this morning, I was awake for several hours before my alarm went off...which should be a good thing. Unfortunately, the reason why I was awake on this occasion was that I was curled up in the fetal position, wracked with pain. I'm not exactly sure why - usually I can trace my most severe fibromyalgia flares back to instances of physical exertion or unusual stress. For example, I had some nasty muscle cramps & pain in my right arm starting this past Tuesday night, which were easily explained by the potato peeling & mashing I had done earlier in the evening for our post-Thanksgiving turkey feast. Not exactly weight lifting or anything, but for me, that's a lot of exercise.

But I was feeling much better by Friday, and didn't do anything else strenuous all weekend. I was itching to finally put up the Christmas tree, but I purposely didn't so I'd have a better chance of feeling well enough to party with the ladies on Sunday afternoon. I've learned to plan out my life in this fashion, trying not to schedule activities too close together so I have plenty of time to rest & recuperate between events. I did everything I could to ensure that I'd be feeling up to the 40-minute drive to Patty's and the frivolity that would ensue.

So, back to this morning... It took me about 40 minutes to unclench myself, and then I was faced with the trickiest task of the day - trying to get out of bed and into the bathroom without falling or otherwise hurting myself. When this happens to me on weekdays, my usual plan of action involves as much stretching while still in bed as my bladder can tolerate, and then a lot of trial & error. Sometimes leaning on the bedpost helps; other times my arms are far too sore to bear my weight. I have to make a few trial attempts at standing, until I'm satisfied that I've at least got a chance at holding myself upright. If I succeed, and I can manage to make it the 6 steps to the bathroom door, I'm usually good.

Other times, though, like this morning, I'm lucky enough to have Mark nearby when I'm trying to get up. I usually don't even have to ask for help - I think it's the soft sobbing & whimpering noises that tip him off. It typically takes about 10 minutes or so for him to gently extract me from the bed and guide me to the bathroom - this morning, I almost fell when I stepped on a piece of stray cellophane wrapping on the floor. I couldn't see it, since it was clear, but it felt like I had stepped on a jagged rock or some broken glass. That's pretty common with fibromyalgia, I understand - my pain threshold is just completely out of whack. A few tiny crumbs in the bed feels like sleeping on pebbles to me. I call it the "Princess and the Pea" factor. Whatever the cause, it gets really annoying sometimes, especially when I'm trying to concentrate on something important, like remaining upright. Luckily, Mark was standing by to catch me this time.

After I made my way to the bathroom & took care of business, I pulled myself back upright using the countertop, and turned to see myself in the mirror. I looked about as good as I felt: wan, unkempt, cheeks bright red from exertion, eyes bright red from tears. I looked at my hair, which was particularly askew from all my tossing & turning. I picked up my hairbrush, only to release it almost immediately with the realization that I couldn't lift my arm above my shoulder, so brushing my hair would be impossible.

It had already occurred to me that it would be unlikely that I'd be able to drive myself to the tea party, between the restricted motion and the muscle relaxers & pain meds I'd need just to get dressed. This is a common problem for me, so I had already made contingency plans for Mark to drive me if this happened. But it wasn't until I was staring at my reflection in the mirror that it dawned on me that I would never be able to get myself dressed & presentable in time for the party, regardless of whether or not I was in too much pain to have fun.

That's when I lost it. It's not unusual for my pain to cause a few tears, as it already had earlier this morning, but it's never so bad that it makes me sob uncontrollably. As Mark commented knowingly when he came to check on me, it's always the frustration that really brings the tears. And he's absolutely right. There was also sadness & disappointment that I would once again miss a family function, particularly one that is always so enjoyable. But the overwhelming feeling is always frustration: at myself, at circumstances, but mostly at this disease that has robbed me of so many things in my life. I think that, for the most part, I handle my condition and it's consequences & limitations with considerable aplomb. But days like today, which luckily only occur every so often, just push me a bit too far.

As if I didn't feel useless enough, I was unable to stop crying long enough to phone Patty to tell her I couldn't make it to the party. Every time I calmed myself down & picked up the phone, the tears would start all over again. Like I wasn't already embarrassed enough at having to cancel plans yet again - now I couldn't even pull myself together long enough to speak for myself. I finally asked Mark to call her for me, which he was happy to do. Needless to say, dignity was in short supply around here this morning.

Of course, Patty was very gracious about my cancellation and expressed her concerned for me, and I'm sure she knows that I had my heart set on spending time with her & the rest of the girls today. This is not the first time I've had to cancel plans with Patty, so I don't think she was too surprised to get the call. I just wish I had been able to express my regrets personally. Well, more than anything, I wish I had been able to actually attend in the first place, but it just wasn't in the cards today.

This is the part where I say that I'm really not feeling that sorry for myself, and that I know things aren't as bad as they sometimes seem. I had a bad day, and it was upsetting, but I still have so many blessings in my life, not the least of which is the love & support of a wonderful, caring husband. Mark was right by my side to help me up, both literally and figuratively, and I would never take that for granted. Within moments of my morning meltdown, he had me laughing and smiling, which was no mean feat. There are a million reasons why I love him, and days like this make me love him just a little bit more.

I could go on, but I think I need to stop typing for awhile & rest my arms. It starts all over again in the morning, and I'd like it to be a better morning than I had today.

A Time to Give Thanks

As anyone who has followed my blog over the past month is aware, things have been a bit bleak around the old homestead. Every single person in my house has had a cold/flu bug which has taken us more than 2 weeks to shake. Fifty percent of us - my parents - ended up in the hospital from it, and my mom is still hooked up to an oxygen tank. Not a fun time.

Luckily, we are all feeling a bit better now, which is truly incredible considering that my mother, who has smoked gleefully and faithfully for over 40 years, was informed this past weekend that she had a rather advanced case of COPD and would need to stop smoking immediately.

I remember how tough it was to quit, and I only smoked for less than 10 years. I also had the luxury of setting my own timetable and game plan for quitting. Needless to say, I was expecting Mom to be a bit of a crankypants for at least the next few weeks - and understandably so. Imagine my surprise to instead find her in what I would call an extraordinarily good mood since she's been home from the hospital. I would say that she's actually in higher spirits than I've seen her in years.

Mom has become increasingly depressive over the past decade, as her neurological disability has slowly yet steadily robbed her of her freedom, her ability to walk and drive, and her plans for being an active, helpful participant in the lives of her grandchildren. Each passing day seems to bring a new limitation on what she can safely do on her own, which must certainly be extremely difficult to handle emotionally. So any upswing in her mood is cause for celebration. That this has coincided with the end of her smoking (hopefully for good) is nothing short of a miracle.

We have all been a bit bummed by the fact that we were so sick that we completely missed Thanksgiving this year, so Mom's pleasant demeanor over the past few days has jumpstarted a bit of the festive mood that had so far eluded us this holiday season. It occurred to me yesterday that Mark had purchased a turkey for us for Thanksgiving, which had been languishing forgotten in the fridge ever since he succumbed to the family plague. If we were going to salvage it, we would need to cook it up ASAP.

So, with the addition of a few cans of green beans, mushroom soup & french fried onions, we had a holiday meal in the making. Throw in some Stovetop stuffing, mashed potatoes & gravy, cranberry sauce and a can of crescent rolls and voila! Thanksgiving was joyfully resurrected for our little family unit. Nothing fancy, but no hours of cooking and cleaning were necessary either, which suited us fine this year. I just popped that turkey in the oven & waited for the timer to ring.

And I think we were all happy to have this opportunity, belated as it was, to celebrate and to give thanks. It's been a tough road, but we're all glad to be on the road to recovery. After Mom's breathing scare, we're all keenly aware of how lucky we are to be together around the table at all, much less around a table filled with our favorite foods. While it is easy to get bogged down in negativity when the going gets rough, the truth is that we are each of us blessed every day in a multitude of ways.

And for that, we give thanks.