Emmalee got this figurine for her birthday. It is entitled "Happiness". It could just as easily be named Emmalee as far as mom and dad are concerned.
It seems to embody her spirit.
More info
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Happiness
Emmalee got this figurine for her birthday. It is entitled "Happiness". It could just as easily be named Emmalee as far as mom and dad are concerned.
It seems to embody her spirit.
More info
Monday, November 26, 2007
Emmalee's Art And Science Fiction
Emmalee poses with her artwork.
----
John broke the antennae off his new remote controlled car after just 1 day of play.
Emmalee said, "We should call Gramma D."
Carolyn said, "This is something daddy will have to fix. Gramma won't be able to help over the phone."
Emmalee said, "But Gramma D can tell John how to fix it."
Carolyn said, "But it's going to have to be soldered. Daddy has to use the soldering iron."
Emmalee said, "But Gramma D knows science"
John said, "Taking things apart and fixing things isn't science"
Emmalee thought about it for a moment and said, "Maybe she knows science fiction..."
(Fiction = Fix-shun)
Emmalee was serious, but we couldn't help but laugh.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Shopping List Surprise
Carolyn looked at the shopping list and was surprised to see an entry she hadn't made.
Emmalee had surreptitiously added "Wii" to the list -- she spelled it right.
I guess she expected her mom to mindlessly follow the list, see the $250 game system, and buy it without question.
Emmalee had surreptitiously added "Wii" to the list -- she spelled it right.
I guess she expected her mom to mindlessly follow the list, see the $250 game system, and buy it without question.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Kids' Art
A look at our virtual "refrigerator door", a sampling of the kids' art work.
Emmalee's colorful rockets.
John's dream house. The top floor features 40 foot high speakers that dwarf the occupants of the room. This was inspired by John's favorite scene in "Back To The Future"; where Marty McFly hooks up the guitar to Doc's enormous speaker and cranks up the volume. One strum of the electric guitar blows the speaker and blows Marty backwards.
The second floor is a game room.
And the first floor is a Harley Davidson motorcycle garage.
Emmalee's colorful rockets.
John's dream house. The top floor features 40 foot high speakers that dwarf the occupants of the room. This was inspired by John's favorite scene in "Back To The Future"; where Marty McFly hooks up the guitar to Doc's enormous speaker and cranks up the volume. One strum of the electric guitar blows the speaker and blows Marty backwards.
The second floor is a game room.
And the first floor is a Harley Davidson motorcycle garage.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Happy Birthday, Ted
No, I really didn't get a "New" bike for my birthday. Carolyn and the kids washed up my dirty bike and made it look brand new.
I don't know why I went overboard with the birthday photos this year. I guess I was just playing around with features of www.photobucket.com. Seems pretty cool.
Photobucket Album
Click on the picture for a slide show.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Sleep Test #2
I had no trouble at all with Sleep Test #1. No anxiety related to being wired in like a Borg.
For #2 everything was the same except there was a CPAP machine with a full-face mask, covering my nose and mouth, and forcing air into my lungs.
I felt as if I was breathing through a straw. I felt as if it could not give me enough air. When I sucked enough air in, it wheezed room air in through the exhalation port. I took all the air sent to me through the pipe, and that wasn't enough, It was exactly like being smothered.
The technician talked to me in dulcet tones trying to calm me down. Convinced I could not smother so long as I could draw air in sharply through the exhaust port -- I laid down and tried to sleep.
Lying still did not help. After about 20 minutes I ripped the mask off and flung it on the ground in frustration. I signalled the technician and waited.
Having trouble? he asked.
I explained that I felt claustrophobic in the mask, I felt like I was suffocating.
He responded in such a soft, hypnotic tone that it angered me. If he could talk to me like a frightened kitten, he did not truly understand my fear or my pain. He did not understand.
Have you ever had anybody get up and walk out?! I asked, with a frantic edge to my voice.
Yes, he replied, but I don't recommend it. It's an insurance nightmare.
I've had my fill of insurance nightmares, and wanted no part of another one.
Would you like a sedative? he asked.
This was creeping me out. I felt like he was not understanding the depth and passion of my feelings. It was like the snake Kaa, mesmerizing his quarry with song and soft voice, only to devour him once he was lulled to sleep.
No! I said, emphatically. I know what those drugs can do. I had visions of myself suffocating to death, unable to raise my own hand to the mask to rip it off. "I don't want a sedative."
Maybe I'd do better with the nasal mask, I relented.
He fitted me to the nasal mask. This one had two nozzles, one per nostril, and strapped to my face like the last one. But my mouth was free. The comfort in this setup was that in a panic I needed only open my mouth to breathe.
I was still very upset. It took a while to calm me down. My body was convinced the nice prison guard was trying to smother me. Every fiber of my being wanted to get up nd flee. I felt as if I was held captive against my will.
I hated this device. I could not imagine using it. I would not ever use it. I only wanted to get through the night so I could be done with this forever.
The first mask was a fat hand held over my mouth and nose, calmly trying to smother me.
The second mask was two snakes trying to crawl up my nose.
The ability to breath through my mouth when necessary helped.
I was ultimately able to fall asleep.
After about two hours of sleep I awoke, with a horrible burning sensation in my nostrils and sinuses. The warm dry air of the devil's breath, breathed into my nostrils by the two-headed demonic serpent, had turned my nasal passages to fire.
I lay there in pain, wanting for all the world the reach up and claw the serpents from my nose, warring with myself, trying to exercise self discipline, trying to keep the test going. For perhaps two more hours I teetered on the edge of sleep, fidgeting, like some horrible hemorroid of the face was perched between my eyes and my mouth.
Finally, in desperation I clawed the mask from my face, flung it to the floor as before. This time, I did not signal the technician.
He came in of his own accord. Speaking hypnotically soft tones to me again.
"Hey, your mask fell off..."
"No, it did not fall off. I took it off."
"Do you want to try a different mask.":
"No," I said flatly. "I want to sleep."
He said okay. We have enough info from the mask, we know what your pressure settings should be. You can go ahead and get some rest. But in 45 minutes it'll be time to get up.
God, have mercy on me. 45 minutes? That makes my total sleep for the night approximately 2:45. Hardly enough to function.
But 45 minutes of sweet sleep without Beelzebub's Spawn trying to violate my face.
I was passive aggressive when the technician awakened me. I would say anything to get him to leave me alone. I had no intention of complying with his suggestions, but I knew that in order to get out of there quickly I had to appear to be compliant.
"Maybe you could get an anti-anxiety medicine to help you adjust to wearing the mask," he said.
"Yeah, maybe" I said, without really agreeing, and with rage rising within me.
God, how can this be your will?
For #2 everything was the same except there was a CPAP machine with a full-face mask, covering my nose and mouth, and forcing air into my lungs.
I felt as if I was breathing through a straw. I felt as if it could not give me enough air. When I sucked enough air in, it wheezed room air in through the exhalation port. I took all the air sent to me through the pipe, and that wasn't enough, It was exactly like being smothered.
The technician talked to me in dulcet tones trying to calm me down. Convinced I could not smother so long as I could draw air in sharply through the exhaust port -- I laid down and tried to sleep.
Lying still did not help. After about 20 minutes I ripped the mask off and flung it on the ground in frustration. I signalled the technician and waited.
Having trouble? he asked.
I explained that I felt claustrophobic in the mask, I felt like I was suffocating.
He responded in such a soft, hypnotic tone that it angered me. If he could talk to me like a frightened kitten, he did not truly understand my fear or my pain. He did not understand.
Have you ever had anybody get up and walk out?! I asked, with a frantic edge to my voice.
Yes, he replied, but I don't recommend it. It's an insurance nightmare.
I've had my fill of insurance nightmares, and wanted no part of another one.
Would you like a sedative? he asked.
This was creeping me out. I felt like he was not understanding the depth and passion of my feelings. It was like the snake Kaa, mesmerizing his quarry with song and soft voice, only to devour him once he was lulled to sleep.
No! I said, emphatically. I know what those drugs can do. I had visions of myself suffocating to death, unable to raise my own hand to the mask to rip it off. "I don't want a sedative."
Maybe I'd do better with the nasal mask, I relented.
He fitted me to the nasal mask. This one had two nozzles, one per nostril, and strapped to my face like the last one. But my mouth was free. The comfort in this setup was that in a panic I needed only open my mouth to breathe.
I was still very upset. It took a while to calm me down. My body was convinced the nice prison guard was trying to smother me. Every fiber of my being wanted to get up nd flee. I felt as if I was held captive against my will.
I hated this device. I could not imagine using it. I would not ever use it. I only wanted to get through the night so I could be done with this forever.
The first mask was a fat hand held over my mouth and nose, calmly trying to smother me.
The second mask was two snakes trying to crawl up my nose.
The ability to breath through my mouth when necessary helped.
I was ultimately able to fall asleep.
After about two hours of sleep I awoke, with a horrible burning sensation in my nostrils and sinuses. The warm dry air of the devil's breath, breathed into my nostrils by the two-headed demonic serpent, had turned my nasal passages to fire.
I lay there in pain, wanting for all the world the reach up and claw the serpents from my nose, warring with myself, trying to exercise self discipline, trying to keep the test going. For perhaps two more hours I teetered on the edge of sleep, fidgeting, like some horrible hemorroid of the face was perched between my eyes and my mouth.
Finally, in desperation I clawed the mask from my face, flung it to the floor as before. This time, I did not signal the technician.
He came in of his own accord. Speaking hypnotically soft tones to me again.
"Hey, your mask fell off..."
"No, it did not fall off. I took it off."
"Do you want to try a different mask.":
"No," I said flatly. "I want to sleep."
He said okay. We have enough info from the mask, we know what your pressure settings should be. You can go ahead and get some rest. But in 45 minutes it'll be time to get up.
God, have mercy on me. 45 minutes? That makes my total sleep for the night approximately 2:45. Hardly enough to function.
But 45 minutes of sweet sleep without Beelzebub's Spawn trying to violate my face.
I was passive aggressive when the technician awakened me. I would say anything to get him to leave me alone. I had no intention of complying with his suggestions, but I knew that in order to get out of there quickly I had to appear to be compliant.
"Maybe you could get an anti-anxiety medicine to help you adjust to wearing the mask," he said.
"Yeah, maybe" I said, without really agreeing, and with rage rising within me.
God, how can this be your will?
Devil machine
Sleep test with a CPAP machine...
Medieval implements of torture which set my nostrils on fire and clamped a fat hand across my nose and mouth as if to smother me in my sleep. Vile tools of satan bent on my own destruction. In other words. . . I hated it.
Medieval implements of torture which set my nostrils on fire and clamped a fat hand across my nose and mouth as if to smother me in my sleep. Vile tools of satan bent on my own destruction. In other words. . . I hated it.
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