When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
I hate it when people go off social media and make a big announcement. It assumes that anyone cares in the first place. That being said, I just went off Facebook, Tik Tok, Instagram and Twitter. The four horsemen of the apocalypse. I was so completely addicted that I’d wake up in the middle of the night and watch Amber’s Heard’s testimony for a half hour and then scroll through hundreds of pictures of Tom Holland and Zendaya. I’m not off because I want to be but because I have to be.
What’s your poison?
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Betsy Lerner 
“Blowing through the jasmine of my mind.” What?! I’ve gone through most of my life thinking they were singing about blowing or growing through the jazz man in my mind or time. My poison=Trevor Noah videos
News feeds. “I read the news today, oh boy”
Gee, I don’t know, Tom Holland and Zendaya are pretty darned adorbs. How do you not scroll through tons of pix of them? I’m just on Instagram now, shopping for artists, illustrators, and designers. I purge periodically. The extent of talent worldwide is astonishing and exhausting. But I’m not answering the question. My poison is my NYTimes subscription. So much clickbait. So many headlines that begin “Why” and “How”! Good lord, pls shaddap and just tell me what happened, followed by 4-6 bullets of detail. Language has changed in the economy of attention. The Times missed that. Meanwhile, by all appearances from the tone and number of my emails to them, poor Frank Bruni and poor John McWhorter must think I think that we’re pals. Ha!
Poet twitter until the number of articulate damaged women crying out against the state of the world depresses me because I feel it too
I really didn’t see the problem, Betsy. Amber and Zendaya videos? What the middle of the night was made for but didn’t know until recently. Then it registered. TikTok. Yes, you had to put it all down. Good. My addiction is email. Which leads two shopping. Which leads to disappointment and returning. You’ve inspired me. Stopping now.
I’m in love with Tom Holland. He is so not my type, yet I’m obsessed. The pinky ring. The tortoise frames glasses he pulls out for interviews. The epic lip synch battle with Zendaya. The Billy Elliot interview. I could go in and on. And yes I’m in withdrawal.
Strangely – cold cereal. And then I had to kick it cold turkey b/c I was out of town, traveling for three weeks and didn’t have access to it. Hotels with those free breakfasts? Hardly ever any cereal.
BEST thing that ever happened. When I got home, I didn’t start up again. Something told me it was not helping with digestive issues (from treatment), etc. I lost some weight PLUS, my gut is behaving better. 🤩
Win/win!
During the time of pay phones I never left the house without a dime, unless I did. Once I realized i did not have a dime I panicked, what if I needed to make a call. In an emergency what the hell do I do after a hike to a pay phone in the middle of the night, stick a pin in the wire and touch metal .That only works in the movies. If I don’t have a dime I sure as hell don’t have a pin.
Now, I must have my phone, I mean really I must have my phone with me. It’s a bigger badder world then back then. When I forget my phone those old feelings of being cast alone come back. So what do i do now? No pay phones, no dime, no pin, no cell phone.
I think back to the night I was stuck with a broken water hose in the middle of nowhere. Nearest gas station with pay phone miles and miles away. I survived because a scary guy thought I was his cousin, broken down on side of the road. It’s a different world now, but sometimes the scary people around us are pseudo kin.
My poison? To believe even scary people will help.
testing, testing
Ditto. Phone. My umbilical to the world. Take it away, and I’m deprived of oxygen.
I can’t watch or read about celebrities in real life if I ever want to enjoy their work. Their weirdness has become markedly less charming for me over the years, and I still want to love Chocolat and House of Cards. My poison is YouTube, where the weirdness is more straightfoward. I’m currently obsessed with this chick named Jess who has a garden allotment in London and whose hair might never have seen a brush. The smaller the audience, the better, in my opinion. I like ’em scruffy.