I gotta tell ya.  Weirdness follows me around like a bad dream.  Hey!  Did I just make that up or is that a common expression?  The dream part?  If I made that up I'm pretty clever!  Anywho, let me recount my morning session of "laughter yoga".  I had never heard of it so assumed there was actual yoga involved.  Not so my friends!  Laughter yoga is an extremely forced, bizarre experience where one fake laughs, does all sorts of touchy-feely group therapy silly stuff, and does no exercise what so ever.  My stiff upper lip, New England upbringing made this one seriously uncomfortable hour, let me tell you.  There is constant eye-contact, (a must),  lots of touching, (yuck), "free dancing", (just weird), and way too much sharing of feelings, (I did not add to the conversation).  My friend C from school heard about it and suggested we give it a try as we do Pilates together and love it.  Fortunately we were supposed to be laughing throughout the session because every time we looked at each other we cracked up.  All the regulars, (really not an appropriate word here), are elderly ladies with obviously few outlets cause, man, did they let it out there.  A few were aging hippies with long grey braids and groovy clothes. (They were the most interesting dancers and the most intense starers).  Others were lonely gals who count these people as friends. (They were the weepers).  Then there were a few seemingly normal people but after seeing them in action that notion disappeared.  Let me fill you in on just a few of the "exercises".  There was the "imagine you are flossing your brain" where we all walked around fake laughing and moving our hands back and forth on either sides of our heads.  There was the "find a partner and discuss romance without words, just laughter".  That was a nice one because I got stuck with the only man in the class who may or may not have asked me to have sex as I was the only under 60.  Then there was the "car wash" where we walked between two lines of people while they laughed and ran their fingers all over us.  Very awkward!  I couldn't get out of there fast enough.  C who is exceedingly polite stayed to thank the instructor and to say good bye to all of the participants.  When she got in the car she looked at me and asked me if I'd ever forgive her.  Sure, I said.  It'll make a good Blog entry.  (By the way, I Googled "follow around like a bad dream" and it's all mine!  I'll let you use it.)  xxoo me