Doing Stuff

Growing up, Dad was always, always doing something. Either he was working as an architect, or doing something around the house.  He might be reading, but that was the most luxurious thing he would ever do.  He built things, created Christmas cards using block printing, put together our stereo (remember, the kind with all the lit-up tubes?). You get the picture.  ‘Lounging’ was not really a concept for him. ‘Are you being useful’ was his phrase.    My sister does the same; she moves and moves and moves. She got another degree while raising three kids, how does someone do that?! I just got back from a trip to Greece that she organised, and was oh so tired from it. Happy. But tired.

Well, now that I’m all grown up (mostly), let’s see whether I can start to emulate their ‘doing stuff’ way of life. Up till now, it’s been go-to-work-eat-sleep-survive.  Things have changed, and for the better, so the next few posts will be about my getting off the couch. Of doing, of experiencing, of breathing in this world that I’ve unimaginably been given.

Oh, and here are Billy and Georgia.



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