We're off to see the wizzard . . .

. . . and it's not the Wizzard of Oz. That is where Oz Girl lives, and I wish I were going to see her. I'll just wave to her. I'm sure she is watching.

But, no, it is Schnapp, my pain specialist, and it is for my required quarterly visit. We should, that is s.h.o.u.l.d. be back fairly early this afternoon. That would be nice. Last month's IVIG is just beginning to wear off, and I have things I *need* to do to get ready to leave before we go.

See you when I get back. Here is my transportation for the day. I see my pilot is ready to go.

Daddy tries on glasses while mommy takes pictures to check them all out later.
He's prepared for the bright sunlight.
"How do I look in these," he asks. "Too girlish?"

He wanted to wear this cap, but they just were not sure of it.

The company might not approve of a Mountain Dew cap.
He likes it, though. You can tell.