Breakfast at Tiffany's.

First thing first: Happy, happy 25 to my brother's gorgeous, funny, talented, mother-of-Stevie-the-cat girlfriend, Jess. She (like my brothers) is so, so much cooler than me.

All of the sass.

She has phenomenal taste, I am green with envy over after her brows, and she makes me laugh like no other. But most importantly, she loves my brother quite a lot.

All of the hair.

Tanti auguri mio caro! Here's hoping 25 is your best year yet.

Next: I celebrate my one-year anniversary in Atlanta in a week, on June 11.

How?

I can't believe I've lived in this city for an entire twelve months. Four seasons. Two license photos. One birthday; one Christmas; one New Year. Countless visitors. Endless tears; more laughs.

I am a Georgian now, and it is good.

Now, down to business.

Before you start, I must warn you: this post is fairly boring. It really, really is. But all of my other posts were too long to include this bit, so it had to stand alone. So, if you make it all of the way through, I have a surprise for you at the end in return. Not a great surprise, but a small token of my appreciation.

Also, please promise to come back despite my failure as a blogger here. Promise? 

Ok. Continue.

I've made it a goal to tour the Southeast while it's so easily accessible. I have no idea how long the Lord will have me planted down here, and for that same reason, I'm trying to take advantage of my city. Atlanta has no shortage of events, and my friend group is adventurous and spontaneous enough that I seem to get a taste of it all.

On Thursday nights, an area of town called Atlantic Station shows movies in their outdoor "park." I had wanted to go last summer, but I was mostly friendless and it rained 90 out of 100 days so I put it off until this summer. There's a full film line-up, but because I'm starting a kickball team that plays on Thursday evenings, it was now or never. Well, it could be now or the next week, but the next week was Frozen: Singalong, so I went with this week's Breakfast at Tiffany's. I rounded up a group of girls, loaded a few quilts into my trunk, and said a quick prayer that the forecasted rain would hold off.

It did, and I met up with the ladies in the park, settling into a tiny empty spot surrounded by mostly women.

There were so.many.rompers. It was like my own personal fashion show.

I use the term "park" very lightly because it's actually a small patch of green astroturf surrounded by restaurant patios. No complaints here, though, because as a life-long allergy sufferer who has a Pavlovian-style eye-watering reaction to the sight of cut grass, it was nice to not have to deal with nature and all of its charms. We spread our blankets, broke out the popcorn Sarah had been smart enough to make ahead of time, and chatted until the movie started....

...and as the sky got darker....

...and darker...

...and darker...

and darker...

...we realized that Breakfast at Tiffany's is odd. Very odd, in fact. Does anyone else agree, or are we the lone, female traitors who don't love this American classic and Audrey Hepburn?

We lasted through the party scene - if you've seen the movie you'll know to which scene I'm referring - before deciding to bolt for ice cream at Jeni's. We never looked back.

I went with the goat cheese + cherry and salted caramel, and I had no regrets. Sorry, Aud.

Now, for the surprise. Tonight we were hit with a pretty incredible storm but were then rewarded with the most incredible night sky I've ever seen.

No filter, y'all, but pictures don't do it justice - in real life, it looked like it was glowing.