How to make condensed milk

I can't think of the last time that I had a greater variety of *intense* subject matter come up in a single week. Maybe it's never happened. There was sex. There was death with dignity and drama. There was the promise of new life. There was a mutiny in my class. There was racism and heterosexism. There were tears -- good god, were there ever tears! There was also free speech and health care reform. There was God and the Goddess and a glass penis.

And I ain't talking therapy sessions and clients here. This is all in my personal sphere.

I took breaks from this Bizzaro-world by attending a couple yoga classes. In the restorative yoga class, a new teacher spoke very loudly. "NOTICE THE QUIET PAUSE AT THE TOP AND BOTTOM OF YOUR BREATH," she said, voice blaring. Just a bit distracting, and not terribly restful. A few days later, I took a Kundalini class in which my chakra kahn got stimulated. Fucking fabulous, vigorous workout followed by a melt-into-the-floor meditation. But my calfs have been complaining since then.

In between and around all of the above, people said things the following to me this week, all in complete seriousness:

"Your tongue is short, so you've learned to be artful."

"You're still working on your orbit."

"How does this work? Should I speak to you -- or to a priest?"

"When I see the two of them together, they are such a *couple* that I want to smash their faces in."

"You can always string a bunch of peacock feathers on garland and get the same effect."

"I don't get why you're doing that. I'm not judging you; I'm just curious. That's not the behavior of the person I know you to be."

All I can say is that there are times in my life when I'm surprised by the face I see in the mirror. The most curious thing to me this week is that it looks the same as it did on Sunday, when the week began. And I haven't even seen Saturday yet.

The amazing thing to me is that, as faces go, mine looks pretty happy today.