Sour

Day 3 of my "Lemonade Week" was pretty sour. But I'm still gonna make lemonade out of my lemons...

I woke up at 5:00 am with my right eye glued shut. Nice. Pink eye on the other side. I just had pink eye in my left eye two weeks ago. And my chest was killing me (I'm fighting some cold crap that's moving down to the chest region. I'm not calling it bronchitis yet, but really I'm just in denial. I've got bronchitis I'm sure. I've had it so many times in my life I know all the symptoms). Good thing I still had some drops left over from my last pink eye bout. So I dropped them in and went back to bed. After all, it's spring break, the kids are off, it's my day off work, and I had absolutely no reason to be up before the sun. I couldn't run if I tried since I can only take half breaths without wheezing.

Thankfully, the kids decided that they didn't want to do the zoo after all. We opted for errands, the dollar store, and a trip to Michael's to pick out a crafty something or other instead. They all seemed thrilled with the plan. (They are easy to please, I know). By noon, my eye hurt so bad, my head was pulsing something awful, and I was starting to feel dizzy. My sweet Barrett happily agreed to keep an eye on Easton & Afty so I could lay down for an hour at 1:30 in my dark, silent bedroom in hopes of letting the Motrin kick in. It took the edge off, but my head was still pulsing when we left for guitar lessons at 3:15.

When we got home, I worked half heartedly at cleaning the house and feeling no motivation to concoct a nutritious meal. I must be sick. I love to cook, especially on my days off. So I cut up veggies and fruit and called Papa Murphy's. Take & Bake pizza to the rescue. Turned out to be a BIG MISTAKE...I should've cooked...

I preheated the oven and left Barrett in charge for 5 minutes while I left to pick up the pizza 1/2 mile away. As I exited the Harris Park gate, I sat waiting for cars to pass so I could turn west onto McKellips. When it was clear, I looked right and started to pull out. Just then, a 21 year-old kid came barreling into the front of my suburban. All I saw was his face as his bike crashed down. I hit a biker. Oh my gosh! I slammed on my brakes and jumped out of the car. He hopped up, said he was OK over and over, but his knee was banged up a little from hitting the road as he fell. He and his buddy kept saying, "Let's go. Let's go. We're fine." Thankfully, his body didn't get hit by my car or ran over by my tire (and neither did his bike), but he dented the front of my car and bent his front bike rim when he hit it. He didn't want me to call the cops, but an off duty police officer and his wife who were driving west and who came up behind me stopped and said they witnessed the crash. So the cops and paramedics were called on were on the scene in minutes. The kids kept trying to leave, but the off-duty cop told him that they needed to stay. Since the biker said he didn't want to get checked out over and over, the cop waived off the fire truck and they didn't even stop.

The whole thing was a terrible accident. I didn't even see him. The sun was going down and right in my view line, so maybe that blocked my view. But then again, I wasn't expecting a biker to be riding the wrong direction against traffic either. All I saw was him hit my car. So freaky. He and his friend wanted so badly to just get out of there. I later found out why. His buddy had a warrant out for his arrest, so he got handcuffed on site by the cops and hauled off to jail once they ran his ID. I felt terrible about hitting the kid (I say kid, but he'll be 22 next week). I'm so glad he was OK. After all the police rigamarole was done, we loaded the kid's bike and his buddy's bike into the back of my suburban so I could take them to his uncle's house a mile away. The cop drove him, and I followed behind.

I was a little pissed off that I got a ticket for "failing to yield from a private drive," but the off-duty cop witness said they were riding on the sidewalk going the wrong way, not the bike lane, so apparently it was my fault. I guess you can ride the wrong way if you're on the sidewalk. I can't honestly say where he was riding since I didn't see him until he hit my car, but I know I stopped instantly and put the car in park. When the off-duty cop pulled his bike up, it was on the street. The front of my suburban where the handle bars hit was on the street, a good 3 or 4 feet away from the sidewalk. And if he was on the sidewalk, I have absolutely no clue where he thought he was going to pass. My car was covering the linear break in the sidewalk line as I sat in the drive waiting to pull out, so if he was on the sidewalk, he would either have had to gone around in front of me (in the bike lane) or around the back of me to pass. Clearly, if he had gone around the back of me, he wouldn't have hit me. So I am still confused about the whole thing. He was coming at me so dang fast...where was he planning to pass if he was on the sidewalk?? He had to have been trying to pass in front of me in the bike lane on the street, going the wrong way.

So I'll either be paying a ticket or going to traffic school or fighting it in court. Nice options. So glad I opted for the pizza. NOT.

So since I'm determined to make my lemons less sour and whip up some palatable lemonade out of this whole crappy day...here are the sweet parts:

• Since the accident happened at the end of my street about .1 miles away from my house, just about every one I know in the neighborhood stopped by to see if I was OK. During my 30 minutes of fame, I was greeted by so many concerned and curious friends.
• Marisa Nielsen was the first one to stop. After making sure I was OK, she offered to go pick up my pizza at Papa Murphy's for me and deliver it to my kids. I took her up on the offer. She's such a doll. Up until last month, Marisa was my visiting teacher, and she'll forever be my dear friend.
• Jill Stoddard, my new neighbor 4 houses down, brought out a couple bottles of water for us while we waited. So simple, but so thoughtful.
• Steve Horvath, my cousin, J.R., the Colvins, David Bailey, and my dad all saw me standing on the street, and stopped to make sure I was OK.
• J.R. called Ryan and offered to come take our kids for a while so we could deal with all this. Ryan ended up just going home to tend to the peeps, but it was very kind of J.R. to offer.
• My dad was on his way home from work and saw my suburban on the street. He pulled over and stayed with me until the end.

AND...the best part...our awesome friends, Steve & Nettie, came by just a little while ago and brought us a bag of Golden Spoon frozen yogurt to help cheer me up. Seriously, how great is that? I have the best friends and neighbors and ward family that anyone could ask for.

When I got home, there was still plenty of delicious Papa Murphy's waiting for me. My pink eye is still pink, but the oozing has slowed significantly. My head is still throbbing, but the stars and dizziness are gone.

So, on the bright side, I'm OK, the kid is OK, the dent can be fixed, my pink eye will heal, and this day will soon be over. Until then...I think I'll go pour myself a glass of cold lemonade and soak in the tub.

P.S. Rowan called me from Carlsbad this evening (right before I left to get the pizza), and she is having a blast at the beach. Jayme reported that it was sunny and 75 degrees today. They've eaten at Juanita's 2 days in a row. The kids are all playing so well together and are happy as ever. They all slept great, and no one was too cold. Man, I wish I was at the beach today! So jealous...