She unexpectedly passed away last September. I think she was proud of me, yet surprised by my career path. I didn’t end up with lots of kids, make magnets for the refrigerator and knit. My DNA steered me towards writing, sales, and whatever it is I do all day.

It’s quite a process to go through a dead persons things, especially when it’s your mother. Finding that chapstick in a blazer pocket just about sent me over the edge. Her bottles of cologne, her makeup, funny socks with ladybugs on them…these things bring her into the room with me.

She was born on a family farm and led a small town life. In her earlier years, she was an amazing seamstress. Her creative streak was strong and while not working in fine silks or exotic fabrics, she found ways to express herself, and I think it helped her deal with the scars of domestic violence.

This doll furniture is made of plastic canvas and yarn. My daughter loved it. Hopefully my granddaughter will appreciate it, too.

Happy Mothers Day, Mom.

Where Barbie gets Ready every morning.

Ken was over. He left the seat up. Men! Check out the tiny toilet paper roll.

The Living Room. Tiny pillows on the sofa and a pull chain on the floor lap, TV & VCR in the entertainment center!

The Bathroom. Love the towel bar.

Waitakere City Road Safety: Car For Sale

So much content. So little time.

I’m like a little kid who is afraid she might miss something, so I have become a scanner. I breeze through Tweets, headlines, blogs and web sites, becoming Aware, but not really Knowing.

Yet I am cognizant of this behavior. Rather than mindlessly drift, I do force myself to slow down, embrace those pages that are worthy and try to leave with a working understanding of what I just consumed.

When I was young, my crazy, abusive father made me take a speed reading class so I could learn more, faster.  He wanted me to be a doctor. (Can you imagine?) Thanks to him, I’ve spent my whole life over-achieving and I genuinely LIKE learning.

When I converted to Judaism, I told a Rabbi I wanted to learn “everything there was to know” about being Jewish.  He shook his head and told me that would be impossible. Judaism is too vast, too subjective and interwoven, too fluid and open for debate, to ever be fully understood.  I tried to prove him wrong. But he wasn’t.

But still I scan. Plowing through material with earnest determination to make my dead father proud and maybe the Rabbi, too.

My Grandmother says” You always do too much.”

Maybe I’m just nosey.

Once upon a time, there was this Adchick who…