Like Father, Like Daughter.

Spent 14 years working for Barnes and Nobel right out of college, moving from suburban Long Island to New York City in the 1980's.

Devoured the history of the City and becoming an ardent New Yorker by reading book after book about the growth and change of the metropolis. He'd go for walks, taking in Brooklyn and Queens and tracing his finger over a map to show me the edge of the world he'd seen that day. Being a Manhattanite I'd only stare in awe at large swaths of the city I never thought I'd one day see change so much.

Becoming a major Yankee fan, scoring the high honor of being voted the "Biggest Yankee Fan" on MLB.com. Driving across the country to see games in foreign stadiums and collecting pins to stick in his hat, it was my first reason to ever go to Detroit: to watch the Tigers play the Yankees on Memorial Day weekend.

Decided to collect and publish the world's most comprehensive list of English language citations on King Charles the 12th, king of Sweden. Why not get a Master's degree in Library Science? Oh, and let's fly us all to England so we can get one more citation on the way.

The building we lived in burned down. We lived all over. East side, West side, Hotel, Duplex with backyard (the only one I've ever lived with), Studio Sublet... all in 2 1/2 years. My middle school years were peppered with "Time to Move" and "Gotta Unpack" days off.

Figured selling the apartment on the West Side and buying a boat to sail around the world for the rest of his life would be a great way to spend retirement. In come the sailing magazines and nautical books.

Biking enthusiast, he could hop on his trusty two wheeler and go for a 100+ mile ride every weekend.

Sold the apartment in the City, giving up the New Yorker lifestyle, bought a mini-van and built a shed (made of found flag stone from the side of the road and the local dump) in his suburban backyard. A playground for new ideas.

Bought land in the Catskills and figured he'd build his own house from the stone found in the ground, he'd be entirely self sufficient and live off the earth, being his own boss for the rest of his life. In come the homesteading books. In comes the beard.

But wait, how about starting a Lavender farm instead? Bought a stone house built in 1820, 80 acres, and set a date: he'll be a farmer and owner of a Bed and Breakfast in a year.

That's my father in a very brief nutshell.

I see his high cheek bones in my face when I look in the mirror, his hands and feet, his long arms and legs reflect in my own body.

Is it any wonder that I can't keep still either?