Last night I got to meet Jerry Stiller, who definitely resides on my list of all-time favorites.

We only met for a few minutes -- enough time to talk about the show we just saw, where we’re living now and how things are going.  What struck me about meeting him was how many times he kept saying, "Just stay healthy."  It was all I could think about as I walked away -- and into this morning as I woke up.

"Just stay healthy."  As if to say that no matter how much fame and fortune you amass, no matter how much your life is a dream come true, when you lose your health ... everything slips between your fingers.  And coming from Frank Costanza, that resonated with me.

When you have arthritis, you can appreciate the subtle upward and downward ticks that life takes, whether it’s on a morning when you wake up in worse pain than when you went to sleep, or after chaperoning a 6 year-old Gymboree birthday party.

"Just stay healthy" is officially the best -- albeit hardest -- advice I’ve ever gotten.

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My friend Yoni, the dentist, gave me very valuable advice the other day.

He said that two weeks before I see my dentist, I should floss every day.  This essentially reverses the entire year of not flossing -- and makes the dentist think that I am.

Brilliant!

It made me wonder, Is there something equivalent I can do for my rheumatologist?

I saw him (the rheumatologist) the other day, and I got to thinking about all of the visits I've had over 15 years.

There are the good days and bad days, the ups and downs.  Some days I felt great the day I saw him, others I felt terrible.

I wish there were something I could do two weeks leading up to the visit to paint a prettier picture. Or perhaps the opposite -- to have a really bad day so he sees what they're like, firsthand, instead of listening to me try to explain what it's like.

Either way, I'm six days into the flossing.  Eight days to go!

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In a snow emergency, you'll find one thing in New York City:  some tough cookie seniors walking around.

Last week, New York City (where I live) got dumped with a TON of snow.  It doesn't happen very often, but when it snows ... it snows heavily.  A few hours after the storm obliterated the city (turning it into a serene, pretty and QUIET place), I laced up my boots, zipped up my jacket and journeyed out into the polar ice cap to investigate the damage.

I was amazed to see one thing in particular:  white snow.  (Usually it's yellow or black by the time I get to it.)  I was also amazed to see the number of senior citizens -- we're talking really old people -- going about their day with their coming and going.  That takes a lot of nerve, in my opinion, and it's reason #529 that New Yorkers are tough cookies.

Here I was, nervous that I'd fall on my butt or take an embarrassing spill trying to cross the street -- and yet these 70-to-80-year-olds were trekking through the snow complete with a D'Agastino plastic shopping bag covering their frosted hair.

I thought to myself no wonder most people their age go to Florida in the winter and then reflected on just how many people didn't and who, instead, braved the elements to get to the store or the restaurant or anywhere else they were going.

How they do it is a mystery to me.  But the fact that they're still up and at it really inspired me.  I should only be that stubborn (and foolish?) when I'm that age!

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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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