A talk was had...

Yesterday, as I wandered about the mucky woods, I felt a pain in my toe. My big toe. My "honker" toe. I thought it was just some neurological thing; an overuse sort of thing. A complaint of sorts. I spoke with the toe. I told it how much I appreciated it. You know, I had already conversed with the poison-ivy, thanking it and telling it I was just passing through... (and, no itchies today!).

Upon returning home, a warm water wash with Bronner's peppermint soap and a foot massage in thanks was had. I was bestowing upon les pieds much amour. I walked a little lop-sided, avoiding the toe. It really *did* work hard in those wet and dank and smooshy woods. The toe? She was mad. She made me know that by issuing forth a pain. Like stepping on a tack, it was. Ow. I took off my sandals and rubbed the foot, the toe, the grief, she was palpable.

This morning as I examined my sandals to see if they were dry I noticed something.

A huge thorn stuck in my sandal. Yep. Right. Under. The Honker. Toe.

D'oh!

Well, I figure the toe liked all that conversation anyway. And, jeeze, the peppermint soap and lotion was downright debauchery.

The feets, they are smiling. The toe? She is happy.