Last night I was putting some bean seedlings in the garden when Ivy let the chickens out. Of course, they headed straight for the baby beans and I had to take action. Fast. Bantams, besides being adorable, are incredibly quick to destroy any vegetation they deem tasty.  I took off across the yard at a full run and tripped on a stick that Ozzie had sharpened into some sort of weapon. Pain exploded up my leg, but dammit, I had to save those beans. Once I ran them off I looked down to see a good inch long chunk of wood protruding from my big toe. I limped into the house and pulled it out with some tweezers, then headed right back out. We’ve finally caught a break in the triple digit heat and I needed to sort things out in the garden before the next heat wave.  Sure, I was sore, but not enough to stop me.

Fast forward to this morning, when I wake up feeling like my big toe is about 5 sizes too big. And red. Puffy. Yuck. Long story short? My chiropractor examined it when I went in for my appointment this morning and pronounced it good and broken.

The moral of the story: Don’t run in flip flops. Don’t let your kids make spears in the backyard. And again, don’t run in flip flops.