I am in big trouble with my yoga instructor. (grin)

She is a tiny little yoga nazi with a thick Honduran accent and no recognizable sense of humor. She is a kind person, don't get me wrong. But she thinks yoga is the beginning, center, and end of the universe. When someone started offering Ki Gong classes at the Y where she teaches, she was very quick to say that yoga was much, much older than Ki Gong. When a student asked her about her certification once, she went into a tirade about people thinking they could be "certified" to teach yoga when it was clearly a hereditary discipline (!!!) and she learned from her mother, who learned from her father, etc.

Well, apparently she ran into an old friend of mine last weekend at the library where he works. Somehow the conversation turned to me, and somehow he was inspired to tell her all about how I had told him that Ki Gong had saved my life by leading me to my breast cancer diagnosis. She gave me a look last night that could freeze fire while she was telling me about running into him. All she said was "He TOLD me what you said." Then later on in last night's class, she began to lecture to everyone about remembering that YOGA was actually a health maintenance system, and can be used to diagnose problems in our bodies. I actually managed NOT to burst out laughing. Poor Martha. It just threw her universe all a-kilter to think that I had attributed my diagnosis to something besides YOGA.

My friend, by the way, who is a jokester from birth, on the day that I told him I had breast cancer, and about how I found it, said as we signed off the phone, "I want pictures, you know!". I said, "Pictures?? Of what???". "Of King Kong saving your life!". God, I love him.