[Glitterbomb!]

Guys. GLITTERBOMB. It happened. 

Don't know what "glitterbomb" means? Here. And here. Except instead of meh GOP candidates, our house was glitterbombed. On purpose. By me and Domineau. For our GLITTERBOMB birthday party!!! 

So...it turns out that glitter (unsurprisingly) brings out the crazy in me. Picture a combination of Tinkerbell + Tazmanian Devil + cackling Wicked Witch of the West, and you get me, twirling around the main floor chucking handfuls of glitter and confetti on every possible surface (and myself) less than an hour before the party. I think this was our best party yet, with the glitter errrywhere, combined with the glitter mason jar candle holders I made and the a-MAYYY-zing canopy Dom constructed. We celebrate our birthdays in sparkly style, people. 

We were so lucky to have these beautiful and delicious cakes made for us by Miss Lauren. My cake (front) was cinnamon with a spicy "Mexican hot chocolate" frosting (chosen by Lauren because I'm "Mexican and spicy" thankyouverymuch), definitely one of the best cakes I've ever had. Dom's was chocolate with a salted caramel frosting and chocolate ganache drip. Thank you L!!

A few of my favorite photos and people from our little homemade photobooth:

These roomies came in matching purple outfits. Love.

And my most favorite of all, Papa Rod in the flesh! My dad showed up close to midnight, after flying in from Los Angeles, just in time to catch me blowing out my candles. 

Dom and I both had a blast celebrating our 25th and 24th birthdays, respectively, and we were so happy to do it in the company of so many of our great friends. And I loved sharing my birthday festivities with her for the second year in a row. Already planning next year... :)

P.S. Thanks so much to all of the friendlies that helped us with Glitterbomb! Shannon, Morgan, Lucy, Allie, David...definitely could not have managed without you loves. And Tyler for the first four photos!

[Two Tunes Tuesday: Good morning.]

Good evening. Here's "Good Morning (Pink Ganter Remix)" by William Fitzsimmons and "Girls Like You" by The Naked and Famous. My brain is a little frazzled from the last week of birthday celebrating (first Michelle, then Domineau, then me me meee), but these songs have been filling my ears nonstop. Semi-related: Celebrating my last days of being 23, I also very cheesily listened to Jimmy Eat World's "23" about a million times this weekend. (I salute the poor soul who was forced to blare it on repeat in his car on our date night.) It's a good song on its own, but it also kind of fit my year a little too perfectly. Que dramatic, no? Anyway, have searched in vain for a similarly fitting song about being 24, but such a tune seems not to exist. Can someone write me one? K thanks. In the meantime, have declared "Good Morning" to be my anthem for this year. Sweet, simple, and happy...just what any little girl's 24th* year should be. :) Love to you all from this 24 2/365 year old.

*technically, 25th. i can do math.


hd! [happy birthday.] ll

[22-23: A year, Milan style.]

Pictures from my birthday dinner at Mie N Yu.

How to be 22, by me.


You celebrate turning 22 with a killer party on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Have a lot of fun, but look back on the greasy-haired pictures and cringe - why didn't you wash your hair that day!? Say goodbye to your love from 17-22 forever (but escape to Vegas for a last-hurrah weekend a few months later with him anyway). You stop breathing, so you rebound. Rebound again. Rebound again, again. And then you're at least a little distracted, and can breathe again, a little. Meanwhile, significantly enhance your little resume by completing an amazing internship at the Guggenheim, which will give you a lot of art world street cred and some really great filing skills. Then it's the night before your last day of college, and the paper due at midnight is only 1/3 done, and then suddenly it's 3 a.m., and you're only 2/3 done, then somehow it's the next morning, and you turn the paper in, and you go to your last class, and then it's over, and you tell the strangers in the elevator, "That was my last class of college," in an elevator appropriate voice, but really you want to SCREAM it....

A few weeks later you march across a stage in a light-blue gown that makes you look tan, which you quite appreciate, and they hand you a paper that reads, "You did it! Our bad for the sleepless nights you spent cramped up in Butler Library and the incomprehensible TAs and the occasional vermin you found in your dorms and for admitting that one boy from whom you're still recovering and for preventing you from learning French by only having classes that took place at 9 a.m. on Friday mornings which you obviously refused to attend...our bad. But you did it. In fact, you did it rather well and only gained a little weight throughout the whole ordeal, and you can now waltz around the world knowing that you graduated from an Ivy League institution. You win. You did it." Or it may say something else, but you'll never know, as you never took Latin. That day you had woken up an unemployed undergraduate, but, after receiving a job offer in the mail, you go to bed a graduate of Columbia University and a future employee of the Smithsonian Institution.

Six weeks later you move to Washington, D.C., nearly inconsolable with woe and self-pity. You don't want to leave New York. You don't want to leave your friends. You don't want to leave the Strand or Fifth Avenue or the Met or Central Park or that one little hole-in-the-wall Korean restaurant on 32nd Street. But leave them all you do, because something inside you whispers "Go!" (and you know better than to ignore it). On the Fourth of July on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial, your life changes, but you won't realize it until months later.

The next several months are filled with firsts: First apartment. (love) First time living with Mormon girls. (weird) First real paycheck. (sweet) First bills. (@#$*) First time all your friends are Mormon. (boring) First antique purchase. (baller) First time living in the suburbs. (gross) First grown-up relationship. (scary) You learn and change and grow, and you develop a healthy love/hate for your new life, with less hate and more love than you'd anticipated or wanted.

After New Year's you take a few difficult steps as you try to become a little more of whoever you're going to be. These include applying to and getting accepted into two graduate programs in the History of Decorative Arts, which will lead you further into the uncertain arts world but closer to your passions and inspirations. You love a boy, but you leave a boy, and then you buy your first antique book and your first Kate Spade purse. You also take to twirling. And meltdowns. A lot of meltdowns. Uncertainty and worry, but also some peace.

By the time you turn 23, you're a different person than the 22 year old you, and lightyears away from from the 21 year old you (thank GOODNESS). You still don't wash your hair every day. You still forget to ask people about their day, and you still eat like a linebacker. You still judge people based on where they went to school, you still wear too much eye makeup, and you still fall asleep in movies. You still don't like talking to strangers or talking at all. But you're also kinder. You read your scriptures everyday. You love more and better, and you're more thoughtful. You're gentler, more communicative, and more inclusive. And you value family more, especially Mom.


You celebrate 23 with parties, friends, and loves, and you're happy.


The end.




I know this birthday post is almost a month late. Whatever. My blog.

[A truth universally acknowledged...]

[HD!LL]

Happy birthday to #you, too. I could have gone on and on.

[Kelly.]

Happy birthday to my dear, sweet Kelly. She's 19(!) today, but just like Mati, she will always be my little baby sister to me.

To know Kel is to love her--she's hilarious, loving, and has a killer voice (remember the Sexisters?). Kelly, the day you were born was one of the most exciting days of my life. I will love you forever, little one. Keep making us proud up there! :)

Oh, and she's taller than I am too, of course. I still got half an inch on 11-year old Mason though!!

[Today is your birthday.]

I la la la la looove my birthday.

All birthdays, really (Fellow April babies Domineau and Michelle were victimized by my love of all things birthday this past week).

But especially mine. :)

I've had this song on repeat all day, and am in the middle of making a 22 year in review playlist for my listening enjoyment, which I shall share with you if you're good.

"I don't care where you're going, I'm coming along with you..."

[beauty.]

Happy birthday to my beautiful little* sister Mathis! I can't believe you're fifteen already...
Any girl whose first words were about kissing is a girl after my own heart! I love you and your sparkly eyes, Mati Mati!

Love, Lano

*Little in age only. She actually towers over me--I will forever be jealous of her height.

[We got it from our Mama.]

Dear Mom,

Everything good, we got from you. I love you more than I am able to say.

Thank you for your shining example of strength, joy, and wisdom. Wish I could be with you today! I'll eat some German chocolate cake in your honor. Happy Birthday!

Love,

Lani

Happy Birthday Lauren!

When I visited Columbia University as a senior in high school, I met with several students who toured me around the campus, took me to their classes, and introduced me to their friends. One of those friendly faces was Lauren, who took me to her Art Humanities class--to this day, she credits herself with my decision to major in Art History (I'll let her think that ;). She was two years ahead of me, so after I began as a freshman I only ran into her every now and then. It wasn't until my sophomore year and her senior year that we started spending time together, bonding over greasy study food, ice cream, and boyfriends named Andy. I've always been a hard person to make laugh, so when she became one of the few people I knew who could consistently crack me up, I knew I had found a good friend. Since then, we've shared our ups and downs with boys, all night study sessions, Disney movie singalongs, weekend trips, one particularly fateful night (on which one of us may have dropped the other's phone into a toilet that wasn't quite empty...), and my bed (head to toe in a college twin bed--it's a miracle neither of us have kicked out the other's teeth by now).

Four years later and states apart, she still makes me laugh until I cry, and I consider my friendship with her to be one of the best things I gained from my four years at school. Dearest Lala, Beautiful Princess, Homeskillet...you are beautiful inside and out. I'm blessed to be your friend, and the world is blessed by your presence.

Happy birthday my love!

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Anyone who knows me knows that I've always been a bit of a daddy's girl. Though I have traits from both of my parents, I find myself to be hilariously, bizzarrely, and sometimes disturbingly like my dad. I'm okay with this though. My dad is the smartest man I know, and I'm proud to be like him.

Happy birthday to you, Daddy!

Love, Lano