A lot of Grace

I know you stop here for my mad cake decorating skills.

And, usually, a healthy dose of catching up on my kids.

But seriously. Did you ever know a bride who could pull off such an unusual peanut-butter-cracker-and-soccer-shirt ensemble?

Or a ballerina who could engineer a train... in her ever-present faux pearls no less?

When we lived in Portland and never, ever, in a million years thought we'd have a little farm and a big family, I had a (well, more than one, but this one was THE ONE) photo project going. Seemed like some gang had found a sense of humor or a case of enchanted spray paint cans and was blessing the city's trash receptacles and brick walls with the word: Grace.

Several years and three children later I got myself one of those magical gifts of Grace.


She's a reader. She adores homemade mac-n-cheese, applesauce and green beans. She's a love. She's our blue-eyed, long-legged Grace, determined to be a librarian and a doctor when she grows up. Happy birthday, Gracie. We love you ever so much.