Getting back on the horse

I don't know much. Although my husband would accuse me of thinking I know everything. That said, maybe it'll take a load off him if I impart some "readers" with my apparent know-how. No really, I don't know much. But I did used to fancy myself somewhat of a writer, and I guess I'm starting to miss those days. One glaring difference between then and now: I used to have real, live readers. Or townsfolk who at least claimed they read the news. Public utility districts, fire safety, and random human interest stories about a lady who saves bears. Awesome. But now, maybe my dad will check out what I have to say once in awhile. Mostly just because I'm about to (finally) move out of my childhood home, and he might just miss hearing me babble about inanities. And then there's my brother, who might read this only when he's out of the country. Or single. As that's the only time he engages with the online world. His Facebook picture has been the same for about three years. Enough said. And my husband, Alex, maybe he'll check out what I have to say. Just out of fear that I'll embarass him. Or myself. But it's time I stop thinking about things that would be cool to write, and start writing them. I did, after all, just receive a $150 check from Tahoe Quarterly for a short article I wrote for them. Four years ago. But hey, between my pal Libba's blog and that check, I'm inspired to get back on that horse.

Anyway, here are some of the things I think about.
Oscar movies. I call them "films." True Grit was a surprise favorite.
My husband. The shape of his shoulders, the color of his hair, the adorable way he smiles and hugs me like the T-Rex character from Toy Story.
Shopping for furniture and home decor. That is, if Craigslist counts as "shopping." And if browsing but never buying counts as shopping.
Brain injuries. Stroke. Assessing brain injury. Treating stroke. Language. Cognition. Swallowing. Babies. My friends' preggo tummies. My hypothetical future babies. Baby names. Baby blankets. This comes in lunar cycles, I think. It seems my "What to Expect Before You're Expecting" book only lands on my bedside table toward the beginning of every month. Much to Alex's chagrin.
Job hunting.
Where to live. Portland near friends and family, or mountains near nature?
Education.
Healthcare.
My awesome girlfriends.
Hip-hop.
Books. Books on tape.
Resort towns.
Sewing and paper crafts.
Yoga.
Parenthood; this time I mean the show.
My bucket list. Only a few things completed so far - and so many more to go. Especially before the babies thing. I mean, "Visit Portland strip club" and "Stay at a themed motel" aren't exactly suitable for life as a new mom. Then again, I can probably save "Milk a cow" for when I have kiddos around.
I also think a lot about money and weight. How to spend less and earn more. How to eat less and exercise more. Neither of which have been very fruitful. My appetite for things, experiences, tastes, and feelings far outweigh my inclination to be restrictive. Then again, my husband likes me a whole lot better sans rigid budget and rigid diet. I guess I am more fun this way. And who cares if I have $400 fewer in savings and 15 extra pounds if I'm enjoying myself, right? Right?!? I'm practicing the mantra, at least.

Never know what I'm going to say. Likely to read more like a "Dear Diary" than a witty blog with creative observations of the world around me. We shall see ...