I’m on a massive self-improvement kick, which basically means I’m flossing.
What about you?
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Bridge Ladies
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.
Betsy Lerner 
Currently, whatever’s the opposite of massive self-improvement: Flossing sporadically. All the bread I can eat. My morning routine is mostly sugary coffee and staying in my robe as long as possible. I’m about to go to bed, but first I’m gonna have a double-stuff Oreo.
Floss, sonicare the bestvelectric toothbrush, waterpik, use 3 toothpastes altogether: Colgate gum detox ,fluoride, and pronamel. 2x a day. No additional responsibilities. Nothing but time.
I’m eating more chocolate, which means more energy.
My daily affirmations: A little extra weight is good and means I can last a little longer if there’s a food shortage.
Farting is healthy and makes me feel better, even if people in a crowded elevator don’t agree. Going for a walk but stopping at a neighbor’s house to do bongs and shots of whiskey instead still counts as a walk, no matter what my fit bit says.
And I do floss. Most of the time. And brush my teeth, especially when they start turning green.
So I’m good.
Flossing is good. Remember, kids, our ancestors three generations back had lost most or all of their teeth before they reached the Creaky Years.
Self-improvement has always been important to me. I’ll spare you tedious detail. But these days, besieged as I am by an auto-immune disorder, I find I must engage in physical exercise every day.
I don’t want to get too far into this discourse. We all have to die. Every day we are alive is but one day closer to that eternity when we are not. Just as with some lover, it is always on my mind.
Just this week, I began reading Feynman’s Lectures on Physics. What? Am I mad? Yes, I am, and this week I have also begun reading Gogol’s Taras Bulba. Are these for self-improvement? What is not? How much time do I have left? What? I have no time? There is no time? It is a human perceptual construct? Well, okay. In photography, I have been finishing my VW Junkyard portfolio. Yes, it is a thing. Is it self-improvement? F*ck all, I dunno. I’m also chiseling away at construction of a monumental and unmarketable tome that I began working on in the Before Times, a scant few weeks before dark pandemic brought its slapping hand down upon our human world. Speak I lightly of such sorrow? I speak as I must. As we all likely did, I lost people to the pandemic. Would they have me give up? I think not. Would they have me shut up now, for at least a little while? I think they would.
I need (NEED) to get back to the gym for some weight training, so my back says.
4000 to 5000 steps a day. Short nap. That’s about it. Oh yeah, I forgot…no snacks.
Shhhh I hid the Oreos.