Dorothy's house, in Liberal, Kansas. We've just done the tour, led by -- who else? -- Dorothy. (There were actually two Dorothys, and both of them wanted to be in the picture) So here we are.

You know why it's called Liberal? Because Uncle Seymour used to let strangers drink from his well for free. That's mighty liberal of you, people said. And the name stuck.

This really is the house upon which Frank Baum based his tale. My husband grew up on a farm in Kansas, in a house like this. Wood stove fueled by cow chips (not much wood in Kansas} A crank-up victrola. A cream separator. A flatiron. A mustache cup (the wax in men's mustaches melted if it came in contact with hot liquid) The Sears catalogue. You could buy a house in a kit for $1000. Or a bicycle for $8. The catalogues arrived every second month. You hung the old ones up in the outhouse and ripped out the pages and used them for toilet paper.

Bao was more interested in Toto. He barked at a lion? He ripped away the Emperor's disguise? He chased a cat and made Dorothy miss the balloon? I never do things like that, Bao said righteously. I'm a good little dog.

My heart sank when I drove up to our $38 motel, but it turned out to be quite cozy, inside. All the mod cons, as they say in Australia. And there was one hell of a storm last night, thunder and lightening that actually shook the building and flooded the parking lot and knocked out the TV signal and went on for nearly an hour. True confessions, I was a bit scared. Remember, it's tornado season in Kansas.

Are we going to Oz? Bao asked after a particularly spectacular display of lightening.

I told him I hoped not, because I'd forgotten to pack my magic red shoes.

On to Wichita.