Almost four years ago, I was in a car accident. A very, very scary one. The kind where you hear screaming and don’t realize that it’s you until a few moments have passed. It took a long time to get past it in the months that followed. My beloved car was totaled, but it kept me safe when I might have been very seriously injured. The entire driver’s side was crushed, glass broken, roof buckled. I never posted the photos online for a few reasons, most of which that my mom and sister were NOT interested in seeing them. I’ve hidden the photo in my flickr archives if you’re curious. (I will always be loyal to Subaru, because that car saved my life. Full stop.) It was traumatic; while I moved on with life and healed on the outside, I could still hear the crash in my head every time there was a loud noise. Commercials made me teary. I got very superstitious about driving through stop signs, and my driving became even more cautious than ever.

But life went on. You get over things, the shock fades in time.

Except almost two years after the car accident, just when things were fading in a way that they didn’t really bother me so much, I got notification that the person who hit me was suing me.

The details aren’t important, except that during the nearly two years since then, this has been a huge stress in the back of my mind, one I couldn’t really talk about and most certainly didn’t want to think about. I didn’t want to describe, in detail, the events of that afternoon. I didn’t want to try to remember conversations or the ticket I got in the mail afterwards, the one that I just paid online because I couldn’t imagine going to traffic court when I didn’t have a car or the money for a new one… but I also couldn’t have imagined how that one ticket would come back to bite me quite so thoroughly.

It was paperwork and bewilderment, and realizing that there are aspects of the legal system that just seem so UNFAIR.

Months went by. A deposition was scheduled. I fretted about it. I lived through it. (And was impressed with myself at how I got through it.) I went to the beach that day and found so much solace in the dark clouds.

so many tears of frustration that day, but all I could think about was getting to the beach. I felt so much better.

A few months ago, I came home to a letter that the case was going to trial in early June. And I ruined another pillowcase with mascara tears. It got complicated. I worried. I was preoccupied. I sat in jury duty for three days trying to imagine testifying about this, being cross-examined again, in court, for real. And I crossed my fingers REALLY HARD.

Anyone who I’ve talked to at all in the last few months knows how much this has been hanging over my head. Well, I’m here to tell you, jubilantly, that the case finally settled. SETTLED. It’s over. Could I talk your ear off with my (bitter) opinions of the whole situation? Most certainly. Does it matter, because it’s over? Nope. It’s all done. And it’s about damn time.

well-earned celebratory black and tans

I have a history of buying myself jewelry to commemorate getting through difficult situations. I’m sure some of you think I’m making a big deal out of something small, but let me tell you, that crash was not small, and the impact on the rest of my life has not been small either. Going through something like this changes how you look at life. And it has shown me that I am so much stronger than I knew. So I bought myself some jewelry because HOLY HELL it’s over. And I never have to think about that snowy afternoon in December again.

because pretty is a damn good reward

Way back in the beginning of the year, I was looking at my schedule for the late winter and early spring, and decided that I would probably need a break around the middle of April. So I requested a full week off, randomly, without any plans, just because I had a feeling I would need it. That week was last week, and I am still awfully proud of my foresight. Because I REALLY needed a week off.

So I packed my week off to the gills with super fun stuff, and while I’m a little sleepy on Monday morning, a few hours before I go back to work, it’s the best kind of sleepy.

I started out by spending a day with Dan and his friends Jon and Teresa, and their one year old son. We ate amazing Mexican food (even though the in-house smokers left us smelling like a campfire for days) and watched bits of documentaries and mostly just relaxed. And ate cupcakes. As we were driving home, Dan and I couldn’t quite figure out why we don’t see them more often, and resolved to make it happen WAY more often.

Monday was a day spent with my sister, doing sister bonding things like getting manicures and pedicures, wandering around Urban Outfitters, sharing a cupcake, and then drinking beers before we met up with her boyfriend and our brother for dinner. And again, why don’t we do this more often?

On Tuesday, I got a few things done around my apartment before getting out the rainboots for a potentially rainy afternoon wandering around Princeton with Kasia. The rain seemed to understand our goals for the day – it rained long enough for lengthy trips to Paper Source (where I bought way too many things, but most notably a stamp that looks like a camera) and a totally adorable toy store full of both nostalgic old timey toys and super impressive science kits and remote-controlled bugs and such. Then the rain abated so that we could walk around campus a bit before an extremely tasty and beer-filled dinner at Triumph (where I had a beer sampler to work toward that last item on my 30 Before 30 list)! I could have sat for hours there, but the cupcakes were calling all the way from Bent Spoon, and they never, ever disappoint. Other than Sugar Sweet Sunshine in the city, Bent Spoon cupcakes might be my favorite cupcakes ever. They’re deceptively simple, but always, always delicious.

I did some laundry and had lunch with my mom on Wednesday morning, and then she dropped me off at the train station so I could go into New York City, first to wander around and finally see the New York Public Library’s main branch, a Mets clubhouse store, and Grand Central Station before meeting up with Jodi. She wanted to take me to her favorite Vietnamese restaurant, Co Ba, and had been raving about this one dish for days.. and she was not wrong, because I am still dreaming about that bowl of noodles. Seriously. We spent far too long in Anthropologie (where I bought a bowl with holes in it, a new e, and another notebook), found cupcakes at Billy’s Bakery, and then had a drink at an on-purpose trashy bar that I can’t remember the name of. But it was so, so fun. I still find it interesting that I can talk for hours with people who, let’s face it, started out as “internet friends” but who have swiftly transitioned to real, true friends.

Thursday was my one unscheduled day, which meant that I kept way, way too busy for any relaxing to take place. I cleaned my apartment, went to Target, got my bangs trimmed, took care of a few crafty details around the apartment, and a whole bunch of other things that I can’t even remember now. I also ate the extra Bent Spoon cupcake that I had been saving. But then my sister came over and we got pizza, garlic knots, and ice cream and sat and talked while watching a silly girly movie. And while perhaps my belly was starting to object to all of the eating I’d been doing all week, it didn’t stop me, either.

Friday was another adventure – I drove up to Connecticut to hang out with Cynthia (and Joel and baby J) for the day. Somehow, I expected the trip to take much, much longer than it did, and knowing that it’s closer than I thought is a great revelation. Cynthia was worried about having a plan, but I was pretty sure we could just sit on the couch drinking tea (and eating more cupcakes and brownies and cookies) and talking most of the day. We did wander around Target, and I got to eat some seriously good New Haven brick oven pizza (or, apizza? I am still confused by that part).

So my week off was awfully busy, but I feel re-energized by all of the good times with great people. And the cupcakes. I’m not sure I’ll resolve to eat cupcakes every day for six days straight again, but it was pretty exceptional while it lasted. I can’t remember the last time I talked so much or ate so much in a week. But it was SO worth it.

There’s something about you in wintertime. Maybe it’s simply because that’s not when we’re supposed to want to visit you. But I’ve been taking trips to see you (and to take photos) in the dead of winter for years now, and since I had today off for Presidents’ Day, and there’s still so much snow on the ground, I figured why not take the trip? The truth is, I often feel a lot of pressure to use days off to find something really spectacular to take pictures of, just because I have the time to drive to wherever I want to go, and of course, the daylight. But I get into these routines, and Asbury Park has quickly become one of my most frequent photo-taking destinations. Of course, looking at these pictures, I remember why all over again.

Anyway, thanks for the inspiration. And the cold toes. And the fresh air. I kinda like you.

Love,

Elizabeth

I’ve been living in my new apartment for three days now, and I’m hesitant to write about it, because I’m pretty sure this whole post will come off as obnoxiously gushy. But oh! I can barely contain myself because my new apartment is so much more awesome than my old one and I’m so excited about it.

Before I write any more, though, I have to say that my Very First Apartment was a good one. I learned to love it, and even though the astronomical cost of heating it was a big part of what made me leave, I feel a need to remind myself that my first apartment was not a dump, it was a perfectly wonderful place to live, and it was noteworthy if only because it was just that – my first place. But! Despite the fact that I only moved across the parking lot, into another apartment in the very same building, Apartment the Second is kind of shockingly nicer than the first one. It’s the little things like the lack of water damage, or the missing funny smell in the kitchen, or the fact that the doors shut properly, or the fake-swanky “marble” countertop in the bathroom, or the not-completely-ugly linoleum floors in the kitchen and bathroom, or the simple notion that the doorknobs have been replaced in the last ten years. Being on the second floor is infinitely better than the first floor, and the balcony doesn’t even face a whole bunch of other balconies. I might even use it!

But it’s more than all of that – (and I promise that I know how zen/new-agey this sounds) the feeling in this apartment, the vibe, it’s just more. There’s more light, and air, and I don’t know how to describe it, because the layout is almost entirely the same, but it feels different, better, prettier, homier.

On Saturday I had more people helping me than I could have ever asked for, and I’m BEYOND grateful to each of them for every single thing they carried, put away, every curtain rod they hung up. It was amazing. The next day I just couldn’t believe (a) how much was done in literally less than TWO HOURS, (b) how many things made it from one apartment across the parking lot and up the stairs into the second apartment without touching my hands once, and (c) how much – dare I say it? – FUN it was. Despite the whole drenched-in-sweat part. And the fact that someone moved into the apartment above my old one the same afternoon as I moved out. It just meant a lot to me that so many of the people I care about were able to just be there.

Ugh, it’s too gushy even for me. But it’s all TRUE. Dan kept telling me after it was all over that I just looked HAPPY. And he’s right. I made the right call.