Monthly Archives: August 2007

The end of the nail

So this is old news; I ‘ve had it in my “Drafts” thing since 8/21, and some of the pictures are from the preceeding weeks.

Anyway, so my beat-up toenail had grown outward, so that it wasn’t even underneath a cuticle anymore. It was attached only along the left side, and just kinda poked out into the air, unless I put a band-aid on top to hold it down.


Here’s a look underneath. I thought that was my bare toe down there, dented in from the pressure of my funky toenail. But, it turns out that’s AN ENTIRELY NEW TOENAIL GROWING UNDERNEATH THE OLD ONE!!!


And so, on or around the evening of 8/20, Becky bumped my foot and knocked my old toenail right off. It didn’t even hurt, it just popped off. That was when I discovered I had a brand-new toenail already grown half-way down my toe.


For comparison, here’s the new toenail next to one that’s never been molested.


The weirdest thing about the beat-up toe, is it turns out the toeprint (the lands and grooves on your toe, like the fingerprint), goes all the way up and around and under to where the toenail is. And it feels really weird having the top of my toe all soft and sensitive, where it used to be a hard, unfeeling toenail.

And this, after I was just about to have my defective toenail define who I was. I was hoping that having a defective toenail would somehow empower my other toenails & toes to compensate, like they would become extra durable, or extra sensitive to vibrations, and I’d be able to sense incoming earthquakes or changes in the weather, just by placing my bare foot on the earth.

Oh well, maybe next time.

Post Turtle (No it’s not Kim)

While suturing a cut on the hand of a 75 year old California rancher, whose hand was caught in a gate while working cattle, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man.

Eventually the topic got around to Nancy Pelosi and her elevation to speaker of the house. The old rancher said, “Well, ya know, Nancy is a post turtle.”

Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him what a ‘post turtle’ was. The old rancher said, “When you’re driving down a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that’s a post turtle.”

The old man saw a puzzled look on the doctor’s face, so he continued to explain.

“You know she didn’t get there by herself, she doesn’t belong there, she doesn’t know what to do while she’s up there, and you just want to help the dumb thing get down.”