Coffee table train set. Oak dressing table mirror
Coffee Table Train Set
- A coffee table, also called a cocktail table, is a style of long, low table which is designed to be placed in front of a sofa, to support beverages (hence the name), magazines, feet, books (especially coffee table books), and other small items to be used while sitting, such as coasters.
- A low table, typically placed in front of a sofa
- low table where magazines can be placed and coffee or cocktails are served
- (Coffee Tables) While any small and low table can be, and is, called a coffee table, the term is applied particularly to the sets of three or four tables made from about 1790; of which the latter were called 'quartetto tables'.
- A set of railroad cars, often with a locomotive, coupled together for a particular service
- A train set is a set, normally consisting of a model train (usually a locomotive, goods wagons (freight cars in the US) or passenger cars, and a caboose or brake van). A set of rail tracks of appropriate size for a train set is a model railroad layout.
- A toy train is a toy that represents a train. It is distinguished from a model train by an emphasis on low cost and durability, rather than scale modeling. A toy train can be as simple as a pull toy that does not even run on track, or it might be operated by clockwork or a battery.
- A set of trains, tracks, and other things making up a child's model railroad
- a toy consisting of small models of railroad trains and the track for them to run on
coffee table train set - Kidkraft Wooden
Kidkraft Wooden Espresso Train Table with Spiral Quarry Train Set with Lights and Sounds
This train table & train set combo is a real bargain, giving families two of our best-selling items together for one great price. Parents will appreciate how the table helps keep toys organized. Young kids will love watching the train set light up and hearing its realistic sounds. Train table features include: ? Special T-molded edges help prevent chipping ? 4 convenient storage compartments ? Smart, sturdy construction ? Packaged with detailed, step-by-step assembly instructions Dimensions: 45.67" Long x32.60" Wide x16" High Train set features include: ? Makes realistic sounds when vehicles pass over the track ? Over 90 pieces ? Long, winding track with custom spiral design ? Moving crane lifts and lowers cargo ? Deluxe airport with helipad, runway, helicopter and airplane ? Construction site with construction workers and a bulldozer ? 3 buildings with molded plastic roofs
May 1st - Inspect, Palpate, Auscultate, Percuss.
Our trauma MCQ is...atraumatic. The mocks that we've been given beforehand have armed us well, gaps in knowledge have been identified and plugged, foibles of the IHCD's questioning techniques are noticed and artfully sidestepped. Our running order for the practical final exams are posted in the classroom, we gather around like high school students. My name is second last. That's going to be a long wait. We drink coffee and slide headphones into our ears. There is nothing to be gained by questioning each other, chatting about possibilities, or dissecting each others' experiences. Music shuts it out and as long as we're ALL listening to music, nobody feels abandoned. We all listen to music. Kappa is called in for her first practical and returns after 14 minutes (yes, I'm sure, we record the times). "Piece of piss." Kappa is not the most confident student in the class. This is something of a revelation. "For real?" "For real. He never even asked me any theory, I was all ready to talk him through different presentations of shock and stuff when he went "Right, there's the boy there, it's a stabbing."" An electric thrill zips through us all; no theory? A simple stabbing? Fantastic! 'Mon the schoosh. We've been told to only return to classroom to collect our books once we've been assessed, so our numbers gradually dwindle. Midge, Stingray and I practice quietly in the corner while others read. I start making stupid mistakes, forgetting to perform the most basic checks, over complicating my treatment, getting ahead of myself. Granny Chan pulls my shoulder away from the dummy andsets me straight. "You're over practicing. Stop it. Chill out." Headphones back in, Fratellis on. I stare out the window at the rabbits on the front lawn, my shoulders and head popping up and down. Holiday makers stare up at the window, bemused by the jigging ambulanceman. Pumped up and ready, one of our tutors calls me through. "The consultant's having a wee break, so I'll be running this one." Even better news! This tutor has winkingly mentioned that he "Doesn't fuck about." with his scenarios. "Nae drama, right?" I nod. Into the exam room, a plastic dummy on the deck, our instructing consultant sits at the top table. He was friendly and chatty and receptive on Monday, so I flash him a smile and greet him warmly. He nods stiffly, returning to his paperwork. Oh. Exam mode, then. "Right Kal, you're called to a firearms incident - I'm an ARU copper." I get him to explain what's happened, a simple enough situation on the face of it, an eighteen year old male shot in the chest. Police don't have any further information, but are out looking for the gunman. The patient is supine, not moving but making gurgling moaning noises . I clamp both hands over his ears to protect his C-spine and in the same breath get a cop (disguised as my tutor) to take over for me. I'm buggered if I'm spending the entire scene holding the punter's head still. The airway's full of blood, but it's nothing a little suction doesn't clear and I teach the cop to perform a jaw thrust on the patient. The gurgling stops and I'm able to move onto the breathing assessment. Central trachea, distended jugular veins, 40BPM, shallow and irregular; far too fast to inflate his lungs properly and supply oxygen to his lungs. I shove a mask over his face and squeeze oxygen into him. But now I really AM buggered. Looking up at my tutor and the consultant, I shrug - "I can't go beyond breathing. I need back-up to transport him and without another medic on site there's little I can do beyond here." My tutor disagrees. "What else can you do?" I'm staring down at our four hands on the patient's head and face. "I suppose I could teach this cop how to bag the patient..." "Or you could find another way of immobilising him." "Ummm...yeah, I suppose." There's a beat while they wait for me to speak, my instructor takes pity on me. "What's the most definitive C-Spine care?" "Board, collar, head huggers and straps. But we can't do that with two people, we need a whole crew." "Right. Ok. Let's say you've done that and he's on the board." Eh? I'm not sure how the patient has magically levitated onto a spinal board, but I'm not about to look a gift horse in the airway. "Cool. I'll teach this cop how to bag the patient and move on." As I strip the patient's chest there's a small entry wound over his left nipple which is bleeding a little, but he's otherwise unscathed. I push his ribs and sternum together to no effect, but when I listen to his air entry there's nothing but dull sounds and gurgles in his left lung. His chest is filling up with blood. There's nothing I can do in the field to deal with a haemothorax, so my next step is circulation. The bloke's pale and sweaty, with a radi
Day 240 of 365
This was yesterday. I wanted to know what i looked like to everyone else, so i set the tripod almost as high as it can go and stood on the coffee table to focus myself. This is probably how most of you see me, since i am only a little over 5 feet tall. I feel bigger most of the time, except when i'm comparing myself to you and you and you. i feel good most of the time, except when i'm comparing myself to you and you and you. I read an article about breast cancer on the way home and almost started crying on the train. i didn't live with her or see her too often, but i remember my mother getting her lymph nodes taken out. i remember her frequent hospital visits. all through it, she was a dedicated alcoholic. which to me means she wasn't sure who she was or who she wanted to be. she was an artist in my eyes. i used to climb in her guitar case and hide there when we played hide and seek. i used to sneak into her closet to pull out her guitar and play with it. yet she never taught me. i wanted to be just like her when i was a young child. i would love to hear that i looked like her, made me feel like i would be like her one day. then i grew up. and i never smoked, and i only drink socially. i wanted to be the farthest from her since that is all i saw her as when i was old enough to understand. now here i am, taking pictures every day and always thinking about my next project. i am like my mother. but she will never know.