And for the rest of my day...

So, by about 2:30 p.m. yesterday, I was mostly recovered from my gym experience--still freaked out by it, but pretty comfortable I wouldn't pass out on the three-minute trip to pick up the triplets at nursery school at 3 p.m. I left the house at 2:50 so I wouldn't be rushed and to account for high-school traffic (it's about halfway between my house and nursery school), and as I drive down my street, I'm muttering to myself about all those reckless high-schoolers speeding down our side street and swerving out of the middle of the road (again, feeling old, but this time, not in a bad way). As I'm sitting at the stop sign opposite the high school driveway, looking right and waiting to make my right turn, I hear the punch of a collision and look up to see a white car hurtling toward me. I was speaking to my mother on speakerphone and shouted, "There's an accident, I have to go" and braced myself for the collision with my car which, fortunately, did not happen. What did happen is that the teenager in the white car shot out across the main road and did not see oncoming traffic and was broadsided.

I called 911 and then debated whether to hop out of the car or try to get to nursery school on time. I checked on the teenager, she was crying, on the phone with her mother, and the driver in the car behind her was sitting with her. I told her I called the police already and head back to my car, only to see a very elderly lady, limping, get out of the other car. Fortunately, she wasn't injured (apparently the limping was unrelated to the accident), but she wanted to see the other driver--oh, and she said her heart was racing. Great. No way I could leave before the police arrived. I kept trying to get her to wait in the car but she insisted, and when I crossed the street with her, another driver almost hit us--I had to pull her jacket to get her out of the way. Are you kidding me?!

Anyway, everyone was fine. The police were there in about two minutes, and the officer let me go once I told him I had to pick up 3-year-olds. And of course, I was freaked out all over again. As was my mother, who thought I was in an accident, although I did call her once I got clear of the scene.

Fortunately, I had my knitting to rely on. I'm really enjoying my Woolgirl Valentine's sock kit. It's more White Oak tv yarn in sport weight--great colors and a fun pattern. But I've noticed that despite knitting the cuff shorter than called for in the pattern, I seem to be running out of yarn. Check this out (and please excuse the poorer-than-usual picture quality--I had to use my iPhone because my camera memory card is full).

Sock 1:



and Sock 2:


And not really related to the topic, but irresistable to include: the socks in my super-cool Piddly bag from Piddleloop:


Back to the socks. I clearly do not have enough yarn to knit the remaining 5-6" of the sock and have been lying to myself for days. I didn't want to contact Jen at Woolgirl because the same thing happened to me with the Halloween kit, except that time I used a pattern other than the one in the kit, and I finished the socks with about three yards left in the skein. But Jen is the coolest! She said that someone else had the same problem and she was having the dyer dye more yarn, but it would take a few weeks. Hooray! Now I'm freed up to start my Rockin' Sock Club socks (already swatched), unless I go for the Woolgirl Sock Club February sock--Zen Yarn Garden and a cabled heart pattern!

And then, tonight, I had my latest freaky experience. I ran out to Target after putting the kids to bed, anticipating that the predicted snow tomorrow will make getting out nearly impossible, and of course, our need for a new iron and ironing board is so desperate we cannot wait until the weather clears (that's what an afternoon playdate spent printing Yo Gabba Gabba iron-on transfers and trying to transfer them to t-shirts with a lukewarm iron while six Yo Gabba Gabba devotees aged three and under are waiting teaches you). I had additional items on my shopping list, so while cruising the toy aisle for birthday gifts, I reached for a toy and grazed my hand on the underside of the shelf above it, and felt something wet. I snatched back my hand and saw blood, and immediately started to freak yet again--now I had someone else's blood and blood-born illnesses seeping into the very dry skin on my hand. I went racing to the opposite site of Target looking for anti-bacterial hand wipes, trying not to bean anyone, especially myself, with the large ironing board in my cart. In no time at all, I was vigorously wiping my hand, trying to remove all traces of the contaminated blood, only to discover...it was my own blood. I can't even explain how relieved I was (except when I began to worry that there wasn't enough alcohol in the wipes to kill any germs because the cut, actually, a skin split, didn't sting when I wiped it). I then went across the street to Nordstrom's and bought Kiehl's hard-core moisturizing lotion...in the 8-oz jar.

I think I need a vacation.