Dear Papa,

I wish I was saying this to you instead of writing it here. Maybe you'll see it - or maybe someone will read it to you. Maybe I'll get a chance to fly down to Florida and tell you in person. I hope so.

I love you so, so much. You are the best grandfather a girl could ever ask for, and I'm so lucky you are MY Papa. And let's be honest - yes, your heart is definitely big enough for the 13 grandchildren you've been blessed with, and you've brought joy to all of our lives. But I'm your favorite, and someday, when you're gone, I'm going to miss you the most.

I mean, there may be some disagreement among the cousins, but I'm about 1000% sure I'm your favorite. I'm your Ali, your Ali B., the firstborn who snoozed on your shoulder like a sack of potatoes. From the moment I was born, we've had a special bond, and I will treasure it forever. Along with all the wonderful memories of times we've shared. Things like feeding the sea gulls French fries at Thompsons Clam Bar; swimming with you and Toffee at the lake in Plymouth; raiding your candy drawer; all those times you brought over doughnuts on Sundays when you still lived in Andover; learning to play cards at your knee; learning to beat you at cards (or at least figure out when you were cheating, you dirty old man); your beautiful swoopy handwriting at the top of the Up-and-Down-the-River score sheets; the way you always dive right into the water no matter how cold it is; the way I will forever associate Honey Nut Cheerios with you (they're still "Papa's Cheerios" to me); the time at the Cape when you took me for evening swims at the beach when no one was around because I had chicken pox; celebrating my graduation from college with you.

The way you say "Hey, Ali" whenever you see me.

Smithshire Estates, Plymouth, Venice - all my favorite places to visit, because I was always visiting you.

I wish I was visiting you now. I love you, Papa.

Trip to D.C. after my graduation

At the hippy drum circle in Venice

My wedding day

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Hey, there...?

Goodness, I almost forgot my log-in, it's been so long. Yikes.

I just spent the last two evenings sifting through 500+ photos and editing them so I could do one huge, monster of a post to catch everyone up on what we've been doing since March 13th, also known as "the day I had LOTS to say about coffee mugs and Ziploc bags." But dude, that seems so overwhelming at this very moment, at 10:10 on a Monday night when M. is away on a work trip and the kids only fell asleep about half an hour ago.

Instead, I bring you a new header photo. And the promise to blog again, soon, about things like Easter in Wisconsin, a wedding in Maine, M.'s vasectomy, and Lucy's birthday party right here in the great state of Maryland. Because she's 4 now, apparently, and she will not let you forget it, not for one minute, not unless she feels like babies have it made and she should pretend she's still 3.

Did you like how I slipped in that bit about M.'s vasectomy? Like it was no big deal? "Yeah, so M. got his vas deferens snipped so we can't have any more babies and then we made green-frosted chocolate doughnuts to celebrate St. Patrick's Day." Which we did do, BTW. The doughnuts, I mean. Well, and also the vasectomy. Which I probably won't actually say much more about, because privacy and "not my balls" and whatnot. But I'll blog about the other stuff, and hopefully new stuff, too.

So, more to come, is what I'm saying.