Two weeks after breaking my own nose in St. Martin, it finally feels like it’s back to normal, the swelling is gone, and the breeze blowing across the bridge of my nose doesn’t make me want to cry. So what else would you expect me to do now that I’m pain free? Break a toe, of course. Yesterday, I made a “fancy” move falling off the tailgate of Luke’s truck at the dump and felt an unfortunate crack in my foot. This morning I have a stylish limp and a big, purple swollen toe. Fantastic. Everyone should probably keep their distance, I seem to be a one-person wrecking ball these days. I’m now off to search ebay for a protective bubble in which to hide.