we're not allowed to cross the street, OR happy birthday, meatloaf and lesser (l'il) wayne

Hi. It's my birthday. I'm not allowed to go outside by myself. It's my twenty-eighth birthday and I'm not allowed to go outside by myself. Clearly, I am making progress through the decades.

On the real progress front, Juan came here yesterday. That's right, she came here to the Fort. Immediately, improvements. Yesterday, a full month or so ahead of schedule, I ate not one (1) but two (2) soft-boiled eggs that were, to be fair, basically liquid, but nonetheless I ate them and they did not come up or otherwise out for a considerable amount of time. I have not had any more high fevers. Today I have even gained a pound. (Keep it to yourselves, I know what you're thinking.) I guess Juan, MD is a pretty good doctor.

Today we are going to see if I can leave my house. Maybe on a two-block walk. Not alone, of course! I'm not old enough for that yet. Maybe when I'm twenty-nine.