This is George Washington Jefferson and he is my social proxy. He was a gift from my friend K, who flew from OR to Baltimore for a family reunion sort of thing and came to visit me one afternoon. George is named after the first President of the U.S. and the TV show character (you know: “Movin’ on up!” C’mon. Stop pretending you can’t hear it in your head). A couple of months ago I sent him for a vacation at the K Classic’s home, and tasked J with bringing him along to the random outings my friends favor since I’d fall asleep by the time everyone decided where to eat and usually cannot attend. The idea was that George would be my social proxy and I was going to make my friends take pictures of him living riotously at these events. J came up with the better idea, however, of bringing him to her classroom – so here he is, sitting on a radiator and helping J keep an eye on her students.
I do a lot of things by proxy now. Last night Tanpo filled out my Jury Duty questionnaire for me (thanks, Dad!). In the occupation line he just wrote the word, “Disabled,” and then attached one of the forms from my Docs who say I’m unable to work at this point and there is no existing timeline for when I’ll be able to do all those things that used to come so naturally. The point is that I’m unable to do my civic duty so Tanpo is submitting the necessary documentation.
When I went to bed I managed to take off my necklace since the clasp is GIANT. But I held it in my hand until Mom came up and I asked her to put it away for me. She decided to be my pearl hygiene proxy first, and wiped them (a pretty string of grey baroque pearls she brought me from Singapore a few years ago) with a damp cloth and dried them with a soft one before putting them in my jewelry drawer.
Ed took a “retirement vacation” earlier this year, and I was unable to stomach the separation anxiety so my sister brought him back from Charlotte in June. George had taken up residence next to my chair downstairs and Mommy was a little concerned about if they’d take to one another. She needn’t have worried since Ed came home and pretty soon he and George were thick as thieves and telling stories to each other as they sat next to my recliner.
George did, however, inform Ed that “This is the no sissy zone,” so a big thunderstorm was the perfect excuse for me to tote Ed upstairs in his sling/bag that allows me to carry him but still have my hands free. Ed doesn’t like lightning/thunder and neither do I. That’s right – I’m an adult and rainstorms scare me, so sue me. (Just kidding – please don’t. Plus, if you do, Tanpo, Esq. will eat you for lunch.)
Ed is still upstairs and his latest act of proxy is to sleep in the rocking chair next to Mom and Dad’s bed. A few nights ago I couldn’t sleep so I toddled over to Mom and Dad’s room in time to listen to their nightly reading (they read chronologically, and now they’re in Proverbs.) I eventually returned to my own room but left Ed there to represent me. I need more space to lie down, but Ed is fine sleeping on a chair so this works out well. I get a proper rest, but am glad to know my “spokesperson” is keeping Mom and Dad company (whether they like it or not!).