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.

It may seem ridiculous to throw a birthday party for horses—and in the scheme of “serious life,” it is. They don’t know or care what a birthday is—but, hey, someone is handing out molasses cake and carrots, how can I get some? They’re very focused that way.


We obviously don’t celebrate the horses’ birthdays for the horses. We do it because we look for excuses to celebrate, to share food (because there is yummy food for humans at these parties, too) and laughter. It’s one of my favorite simple pleasures.

How did you celebrate today?

A few months ago, inspired by The Enchanted Earth blog, I had the bright idea to take pictures of heart shapes I found as I went through my daily life, blog about it and call it “Hidden Hearts.” Since then, how many heart photos did I take? Exactly zero. It seems I didn’t see heart shapes around me. Maybe my vision was faulty--I am terrible at those puzzles where you’re supposed to find the pictures within the picture, and not once have I ever seen the image embedded in one of those optical illusion posters. 

Still, I wasn’t quite ready to give up. Remembering this post, I decided to give it one last shot. I took my camera out into our yard. If I found some hearts, great. If not, I’d give up the idea and move on.

As I stepped out the back door, I realized there’s a heart shape hidden in our outdoor table and chair set.

That was OK, but what I really wanted was to find hearts in the natural world. And then I saw this one:

And this one:


And this one:


And this one:


(I also discovered a face in our grill controls:


...but that’s beside the point.)

Now that I was completely focused on them, it took me only a few minutes to find all of these. Well. Is there a take-away lesson? If you know me, of course there is: You find what you look for. Looking for good in others? You’ll find it. Expecting your feelings to be hurt? They will be.

Looking for love? It’s all around you.

Happy Valentine’s Day—may your life be filled with love.

Bonus heart:

There comes a time in the life of every teenage boy’s mother when she comes to the following realization: my child looks like a ragamuffin/street urchin/orphan and I need to take him shopping for clothes. This realization will send dread deep into her heart, as she realizes she will have to 1) find a time when both mother and son are available for shopping, 2) find a store that stocks affordable clothing for the impossibly tall and thin young man her son has become and 3) convince said young man that shopping for clothes is a necessary and required activity.

If you find yourself in this position, here are seven tips to help you survive your next shopping trip with your teenage son (these tips can also be applied to husbands):

Choose a time when nothing more interesting is going on. This will be nearly impossible since clothes shopping ranks with household chores in level of interest. You may have to ground him just so you can pull him away from his friends/the Xbox/Runescape.

Promise him lunch at his favorite restaurant. You’re just going to have to put up with the fact that his favorite restaurant is one you hate. You will either have to eat beforehand or find someplace acceptable nearby where you can buy take out.

Let him drive.

Once at the store, don’t express an opinion about the clothes on the racks until he does. Be noncommittal: “Here’s a blue shirt. What do you think?” Heaven forbid he try on something his mother says she likes. Even after he’s chosen something, be judicious with your praise. If you like it too much, suddenly he won’t. (The reverse is also true: if you hate it, don’t express that opinion, either, unless you want it to become the one thing he absolutely cannot live without.)

Fortify yourself with Starbucks (or other favorite treat).

Don’t try to shop for yourself, too. Never mind that you see an adorable top just your size…

Confine your trip to one or two stores to avoid shopping overload for both of you.

Clothes shopping with a teenage boy is not for the faint of heart, but it can be done successfully. And remember, it could be worse. He could be a girl.