My toes are still a glorious gift from God. Don't bother trying to convince yourself otherwise. It's futile. God gave the world my toes. Stop whining. Instead be grateful. Why there isn't a Facebook fan page dedicated to my toes is beyond me. My glorious toes would be getting poked left and right. But whatever. They'll live. My toes are concerned with more important things than status updates and Scramble scores. They've had a long, hard summer. That's why Big Right and Big Left look a little worse for wear. It's hard to be pretty when you're saving orphans from fires. Comes with the territory. So if you want to complain about the sight of my glorious toes, go right ahead. But think about all those orphans that would have died in the fire had my toes not tripped over a trash can and accidentally hit 911 on their cell phone. No, my glorious toes never got the Thai food they were about to order, but in the big picture that doesn't really matter. My toes can have Thai food some other time. And because of them, those orphans can too.

This post is dedicated to books/schmooks; the woman lived next to Russia and killed a bear. Why isn't that enough for you people?