That being said, today I took the Gumby doll I made Scott buy me last summer in Lawrence on an outing. I even photo documented Gumby's morning, just for you!
|Gumby wakes up to a fine Autumn morning|
|Gumby checks facebook|
|Gumby helps me brush my teeth|
|Gumby riding a terrified Penny|
|Posing nicely for the camera|
|Penny forgave me|
|At least until Gumby decided he wanted to ride Penny some|
At this point I had to go out and pretend to be a normal person, so I (very normally, I thought) stuck Gumby in my pocket where he would have a view on my world, and went to school. Gumby had a delightful time giving hugs to all of the sick people in the program (not that kind of sick, you twisted individual), and even earned a couple of smiles. Gumby also got to make some new friends, in the My Little Pony figurines carried by Veronica , who is a self-confessed Brony (but NOT, she assures me, a Pegasister). Gumby was also *thrilled* by our metadata lecture, which was great, because I was busy doodling and not really paying attention, so at least one of us absorbed something.
But down to business. . .Today would have been much MUCH more depressing if I hadn't brought along this silly bendy toy with me. Why is this? What is it in objects, toys in particular (not THAT kind of toy, you dirty person, you) that is so comforting to us when we're feeling under the weather? Why is it that Gumby's goofy plastic smile could put a smile on my face and make six hours of class whilst hacking up a lung seem halfway bearable?
For me, I'm going to say it goes back to sick days as a child, when you got to cuddle up in bed, being delivered soup and hot drinks, with a pile of your favorite toys on hand. You could momentarily forget about your misery as you had Barbie get married to Michelangelo of the TMNT ( I was little, k!) and all would be right in the world in that moment, while you separated yourself from your body and got lost in make believe.
Or maybe I'm just weird.
Gumby says goodnight, guys.