This weekend I caught up with a friend who happens to have moderate-to-pretty-bad anklyosing spondylitis.  I've known him for a while (he's actually the father of some friends), and I've seen his ups and downs over the years -- trying new meds, desperately clinging to old meds, searching every which way for answers.  And some days have been better than others.

This weekend he was doing great, and we chatted over light snacks and club soda (what one does at such gatherings) about how well he was feeling.  I must have knocked-on-wood a dozen times (I'm That Guy), but was really happy to hear that things were going well.

Feeling great didn't deter him one bit from charging ahead and searching for answers and the pursuit of feeling even better -- and I think that's what impressed me so much.

Needless to say, he is on a roll and I wish him well.  I told him to go celebrate.

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There are two types of volunteering:  the kind that helps make the world a better place ... and the kind in which you tell the gate agent you'll accept a travel voucher in exchange for giving up a seat on an overbooked flight.

While both leave you feeling incredibly good -- especially when your travel plans are flexible and you were smart enough not to check any luggage -- the former (helping the world) has a lasting effect on your mind, body, and spirit.

I found a new kind of volunteering lately, one that's my speed and incorporates one of my favorite things in the world:  laughter.  Like the old saying -- "If you like your job, you never work a day in your life" -- the best kind of volunteering doesn't feel like work and is something I have enjoyed doing:  spending time with a senior citizen on weekend afternoons.

I go to her house and we talk about life and she tells me stories from "the old days" -- which are extremely entertaining.  She knows she's a pistol, and has impeccable timing when she delivers a joke or tells a funny story.  It's what I love about spending time with her -- I always leave happier than when I got there.  And I know she does, too.

Everyone should volunteer.  The world would be a better place if people gave back with their time or their skills.  While past volunteering has taken me to the side of the FDR Drive in midtown Manhattan to clean up garbage (prisoner style!) or in to children's wings of hospitals to juggle -- hanging out with Ruth and making one another laugh is just as much a good deed.  A good deed at my own speed.

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These have been some Hot August Nights (as the great Neil Diamond once said).  The weather in the New York area has been absolutely brutal -- hot and sticky with a very unstable atmosphere.  This has taken a toll on my body, and I'm ready for the fall.

Or for a fall, whichever comes first.

Part of the problem with humidity is the sweat factor.  No matter what you do -- whether you're in the sun or the shade -- your body sweats like a leaky faucet.  This is uncomfortable on the surface but, for me, the discomfort runs much deeper.

These Hot August Nights have given me headaches, made my joints stiff and achy, and put me in a bad mood.  And I'm not the only one -- over 8 million New Yorkers were pacing the streets, cranky as can be, these past few weeks.

Far be it for me to complain about the heat when there are so many other worthwhile things to complain about.  But sometimes you just need to vent.

I am stoked for the morning I wake up chilly, needing to bundle up in a sweater and scarf (just in case).

Call me crazy.  Actually, just call me arthritic.

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This past weekend was a very interesting one for me.  I opened my mind and, as a result, hooked up my body.

Yoga has never been something I'd consider a hobby (or even an interest) of mine.  Probably because, in college all those years ago, I signed up for a class just to follow a girl on whom I had a crush.

Needless to say, that didn't end well (on any front) and left a really sour taste in my mouth for yoga.

It might have been the attitude (a good one), the clean country air, summer sun or all of the above which conspired to make my first (technically second) yoga experience a really great one.  Alignment, happiness and clarity came together at once to make me feel better -- on the spot.

Seriously, what the heck is this all about?  I am definitely on to something here, there is much more to come.

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So yeah, I'm an idiot for actually going to a shopping mall on Black Friday. Which should be renamed Crack Friday. The crowds weren't as bad as the distances I had to walk -- and shlep -- to get from one end to another. Granted, I was at a shopping mall in New Jersey (the shopping Mecca of North America), and to capitalize on Macy's great bargains I opted to park and walk. And walk. And walk.

Which didn't bother me that much until the end of the day, when every step felt like a giant leap into the arms of a 300-pound linebacker. Needless to say, no $5 coupon was worth the aggravation, agony and aches caused by Crack Friday.

Sadly, I let this dampen my weekend, after such a nice Thanksgiving (with such a nice family). But instead of focusing on the nonsense that is walking 3 miles in a crowded mall with a heavy shopping bag (of bedding, no less), I need to focus on the positives:  I got cheap bedding.