Tonight has become most interesting.

It's not like I live on Mars. If I remove from my nose the cannula that delivers oxygen, I won't perish. As zany and kooky as I can be with a rowdy laugh, I actually reside in utter silence and solitude. Since my dependency on fabricated oxygen, the white noise of a concentrator has filled my rooms. It's a gentle squeeze-pump-like sound that nearly evaporates in the very air the rest of the world breathes.

Tonight I noticed something very, very strange, and then realized the welcoming sound was silence. I'd turned off the concentrator, which is not as serious as it might sound. If I walk slowly, my oxygen saturation maintains an acceptable level - as healthy as yours, I might venture.

I took a nap today. I had a nightmare. I couldn't breathe. I kept on trying to suck air into my lungs and couldn't. In my nightmare I thought, "So, this is what it's going to be like - I'll gulp and gulp and receive nothing."

So, tonight I'm walking around without my leash. It's not an act of bratty defiance. It's simply a need to walk unfettered... drowning in the silence I love so much. I can't begin to describe how odd it was when I finally figured out what was different in my home. It wasn't the lack of leash... it was the silence.

I don't think I've shared that Emily and I have reconfigured my portrait. We ditched the Roosevelt chair, but kept the pearls.

It actually was quite by accident that the venue changed. Emily wanted to get a shot with a certain light... and voila!



This is the countenance that will be used for my portrait





This is the background that will be used for my portrait







I really like this photo of me with my three amazing children. It's such a rare occasion that we are all together. It was a precious and perfect time.