Originally from Willows, WI, he’s been a photographer, an Olympic gold medalist, a pizza delivery guy and a member of the military. He’s turning 50 today, and has recently reconciled with his long-time love after being apart for six years. He is…

Ken Carson. You know, Ken—Barbie’s main man!*

When I was a child, Ken was part of my Barbie family. He had brown molded plastic hair and a head that, disturbingly, popped off without warning. If I had needed a doll for regular decapitations, he would have been my go-to guy. When his head stayed on, and there was always some doubt about that, he was the perfect companion for Barbie in all her adventures.

Poor Ken had few wardrobe choices. I seem to recall some flowered bathing trunks, but I can’t remember what else he wore. (Maybe he was really Cabana Boy Ken?) My Barbie had a whole wardrobe, including shoes. I am not as well-dressed today as my Barbie was when I was 7. My most treasured items were handmade, 50s-style doll clothes someone had given to me.

Barbie and Ken traveled in a chic yellow and orange Country Camper, with Skipper, Barbie’s sister, and their daughter, a non-Mattel toddler-size doll who had miraculously come into being well before I had any idea of the actual process involved. I spent many happy hours playing with Barbie & Co. (when I wasn’t creating elaborate storylines for my Breyer model horses—that’s a story for another day), and I packed them carefully away when I left for college. I believe I would still have them if it weren’t for The Incident. On returning from college, all my Barbie stuff had “disappeared” from our garage. Frankly, I’m still suspicious about the circumstances of that disappearance. My mom swears she didn’t get rid of them, but, really, that’s the only thing the thieves took?! Come on. I could have had a real investment there: a quick check of eBay shows the camper alone selling for more than $200!

I still pine for Barbie and her pretty wardrobe, Decapitation Ken and, especially, the Country Camper. Never mind that my life (and my house) is filled with more grown-up toys, like laptops and piles of books and art supplies, not to mention I now have a real horse to replace my models. If I still had Barbie and Ken they'd likely be stored in the attic with the Christmas decorations and the silverfish—a sad comedown from their days as a free-wheeling, camper-driving team.

What was your favorite childhood toy? Do you still have it? What’s your favorite toy now?

*For more information on Ken, see manbehindthedoll.com.

One hundred years ago, more than a million people came together at rallies in several European countries to call for women’s right to vote, work and hold public office and an end to discrimination. International Women’s Day (IWD) was born. Today, IWD has become a celebration of women’s economic, political and social achievements, but also brings attention to how much work still needs to be done in order for women to achieve equality. For example, around the world, women perform 66 percent of the world’s work—but earn just 10 percent of the income and own one percent of the property.

To mark this special 100th anniversary, the IWD Global Arts Initiative has launched  “100 Women, 100 Artworks” and “100 Women, 100 Stories.” All of the stories and works of art, which include paintings, sculptures, photographs, collages and more, have been created by women from around the world, “to inspire, challenge, entertain and provoke thought from a gender angle,” according to the IWD website.

If you want to celebrate International Women’s Day, here are some simple things you can do:

Create something uniquely “you”—write a story or a poem, paint a picture, bake something, build something. And think of all the other women around the world who are creating today, too.

Thank a woman who has helped, encouraged or inspired you. (I'm sending a note to my high school creative writing teacher.)

Read a book or watch a movie about women’s history, struggles or achievements. Share what you learn with your family and friends. (On my list: Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide, by Nicholas Kristoff and Sheryl WuDunn.)

Donate to a cause that supports women (UNIFEM, the United Nations Development Fund for Women, for example).

Yesterday I went on my second “artist’s date” of the year. Somewhere in the needlework aisle of a large arts and crafts store, I realized…I’m not very “good” at artist’s dates. I feel like I don’t quite know what I’m supposed to get out of them. I’m not really sure what to do with myself, maybe because I don’t do them very often. I feel guilty taking time for an artist’s date when I should be working, whether on writing or around my house and for my family, because I already spend so much time at the barn with my horse. At least, I used to feel guilty until I began to think of artist’s dates as part of my work. Yes, I need to put in plenty of time continuing to learn my craft, reading and writing daily, but if I don’t occasionally stop to refill the well, it will run dry.

Part of my problem is that I don’t have many ideas of where to go or what to do for an artist’s date. I don’t always want to go to a store, because I don’t want to spend a lot of money on these excursions—plus I don’t find stores all that inspiring. I finally typed “artist’s dates” into Google, trying to figure out what to do with myself. (Some suggestions I found included going to a nursery to look at plants, getting a blanket and lying down outside to count the stars or find constellations, or visiting a picturesque part of town with a sketchbook.)

For my first artist’s date I went to a thrift store, one of the other suggested destinations. I spent a good two hours trying on clothes, looking at housewares and decorative items, and saving the shelves of books for last, like dessert.

For my second date, I made a trip to the aforementioned arts and crafts store. I needed a hook-and-eye closure to fix a pair of shorts (shorts weather is already here in Florida—take heart, Northerners, spring is on the way) so I decided to combine that errand with an artist’s date.

I went to the thrift store with no list or agenda, but hopeful that I’d find some inexpensive clothing to refresh my wardrobe or maybe come across a quirky item for our shelves, or a book or two. Wandering through the large, sunny space, I took time to look at things, and at my fellow shoppers. At the arts and crafts store, I discovered aisles and aisles of fascinating tools and supplies. While few of the craft supplies tempted me, and I skipped the fabric section altogether, once again I enjoyed the experience of just looking.

What I got from both these dates, aside from a few books and that hook-and-eye closure, was a feeling of possibility. Opportunities for expression, whether through clothing, decorating or crafting, are everywhere, and can be had inexpensively.

Am I doing artist’s dates “right”? Is there a “right”? Should I have walked up and down every aisle of fabric, even though I know I’m not going to sew anything? Would I have been inspired by the colors and textures of cloth? Am I limiting myself with the idea that I’m not going to sew anything? (Yup, I can turn a simple trip to a crafts store into a moral dilemma.)

I guess the point of an artist’s date is that I’m making an effort to step outside the usual confines of my days. It doesn’t matter how I do it, as long as I do it. Like anything else, I’ll get better with practice.

Have you ever gone on an artist’s date? What did you do? What did you take away from it? Any suggestions for my future artist’s dates?

I have a confession to make. I want to write a book. I’ve got a title, some chapter headings, an introduction and a vague idea of where I want to go with it. But I don’t really know anything about writing a book. Magazine articles, short pieces for the internet, blog posts, yes—books, no. So I’m educating myself, starting with a book called Chapter After Chapter. One of the recommendations the author makes is to read 100 books similar to the one you want to write. I’ve begun that project by exploring the world of blogger/authors. I thought I’d share with you five books by bloggers I’ve read recently:

My Formerly Hot Life, Stephanie Dolgoff. Blog: http://www.formerlyhot.com/. “You are not the young, relevant, in-the-mix woman you used to be. But neither are you old, or even what you think of as middle-aged. You are no longer what you were, but not quite sure what you are.” Dolgoff examines the major areas of a Formerly’s life, and how they have changed and are changing. Her conclusion: it’s not so bad to be a Formerly—but you won’t know that until you become one.

Living Oprah, Robyn Okrant. Blog: http://www.livingoprah.com/. Is it possible to discover one’s authentic self by following someone else’s ideal? Okrant attempts to answer this by doing everything Oprah says to do on her TV show, in O Magazine and on her Web site. This book entertained me, while making me glad I wasn’t taking on a project like this. (The control freak in me would have had a nervous breakdown.)

The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin. Blog: http://www.happiness-project.com/happiness_project/. This is one of my favorite blogs, and I’ve mentioned the book here before.

It Sucked and Then I Cried, Heather B. Armstrong, otherwise known as Dooce. Blog: http://dooce.com/. Armstrong’s book chronicles her struggle with mental health issues while trying to care for her infant daughter. Dooce is incredibly successful as a blogger, and was featured this weekend in the New York Times Magazine.

Life is a Verb, Patti Digh. Digh is not primarily a blogger, though she does have one (http://37days.typepad.com/). I happened to finish her book right when I was preparing this post, and I loved it so much I wanted to share it with you. The 37-day time frame came from Digh’s experience of her stepfather’s death: he died 37 days after being diagnosed with lung cancer. She writes, “The time frame of thirty-seven days made an impression on me. We often live as if we have all the time in the world, but the definite-ness of thirty-seven days was striking. So short a time, as if all the regrets and joys of a life would barely have time to register before it was up…. What emerged was a commitment to ask myself this question every morning: What would I be doing today if I only had thirty-seven days to live?”

These books give me hope. If they can do it, why can’t I?

I’m going to keep exploring the world of blogger/authors. Any recommendations?

Photo: USFWS Endangered Species

The Florida manatee is a subspecies of the West Indian manatee, a warm-blooded marine mammal. Manatees are able to move freely between salt, brackish and fresh water, and are found in Florida’s coastal waters, rivers and springs. The average adult manatee weighs between 800 and 1200 pounds and can measure up to 10 feet long. Manatees spend most of their days eating, sleeping and playing. (I want to be a manatee!) They eat around 60 to 100 pounds of aquatic plants per day.

Manatees are gentle, passive and slow moving, but can be surprisingly nimble, able to swim upside down, do barrel rolls or stand on their heads or tails. They have no natural enemies, but unfortunately some are injured or killed each year by boats and other human-related causes. Manatees are migratory, and Tampa Bay is home to approximately 200 of them in winter, and around 100 in summer. (There are approximately 3800 manatees total in the U.S., according to savethemanatee.org.) West Indian manatees are protected in the United States under federal law by the Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972 and the Endangered Species Act of 1973, as well as the Florida Manatee Sanctuary Act of 1978.

Manatees reproduce slowly, only reaching sexual maturity at age five. One calf is born every two to three years (twins are rare), after a 13-month gestation. Calves stay with their mothers during the first two years of life, so sometimes one mother will be accompanied by both her older and younger calves at the same time.

As strange as it may seem if you’ve gotten a good look at one, legend has it that sailors mistook manatees for the sirens of Greek myth, those temptresses who lured sailors to their deaths on reefs and rocks. This is reflected in the manatee's order name, Sirenia.

The manatee’s closest relatives are the elephant, aardvark and hyrax.  The West Indian manatee is also related to the West African manatee, the Amazonian manatee and the dugong.