So remember how I don’t like God in my yoga class? Well tonight it was very strange and I can’t decide strange good or strange bad. (which is similar to a nice or naughty in a good way philosophical conversation I recently had about Santa’s list) Tonight God wasn’t at yoga, but Jack Johnson, Amos Lee, Josh Radin, Norah Jones and even Elton John showed up. There was a new teacher...the hippie lady apparently has been replaced by tiny progressive yoga girl who obviously has to work out so much to keep up the strength to carry around her rock of a wedding ring. She was really nice, great class...more workout-ish less “om” than the other lady and I think that’s ok. But I’m used to being to tune the music out as background noise because it’s usually in another language, so when I can understand the words and even have most of the songs on my iPod I’m a little perplexed. And it was hard to focus on not falling over when I’m like...is that Amos Lee? And those aren’t the most uplifting songs either...could be a little downer if you weren’t in the right mindset.

I’m lucky I even went to yoga tonight and didn’t just sit on the couch drinking (which I am now). I announced yesterday that creepy happy Staci was gone and reality Staci was back at the office. I made it 2 weeks...that’s shocking in itself. And then this afternoon I was randomly looking at the US bank website at my account and noticed some charges that I hadn’t made. I almost chalked it up to random left over vacation charges, but something didn’t sit well. Trisha recently used a fraudulent ATM in London and it scanned her numbers and someone started using her card. I called her and said the matching pajamas were enough must we always do everything in pairs? US bank was great about the whole thing once I got to the right person. I explained my frantic story 3 times and each time they’re like...oh you need the fraud dept...yes, they were transferring me to fraud...no this blah blahk, let me transfer you now. When I finally got to fraud I refused to answer his questions until he confirmed I was really speaking to the right department. They closed my account, they refunded the charges, they went through the charges on my account to confirm they were mine...office max – yes, victoria’s secret – yes....something jackup website – uh no. When I called the first website that had a charge they were like ok we’ll give your money back...absolutely no question about it like it happens all the time. The second site told me the person’s email address, their IP address (which is out of Hannibal Missouri) and that this person had my credit card number – front AND back, as well as my mailing address and full name. I was freaked.

I called the police department in Clayton and the officer told me the crime had been committed in Hannibal so I needed to file my report there. Really? I said, sir, it’s the internet....she could be anywhere. You live in Clayton? No I just think because of the rich people per capita you’d have better police service. He tried to look up my address and couldn’t find it at first....like I’m Elaine ordering Chinese food out of the delivery area. Thankfully we’re a low crime city. Finally agreeing with my logic he sent an officer over to my apartment to get a report. He beat me to my place and I come flying up the stairs (for those of you who know my stairs for some reason they continue to kick your ass when you run them...45 minutes on the elliptical – fine, walking up these stairs – winded, as Di would say) I’m sure I seemed like a totally lunatic...about to need oxygen. I explained my story and told me stories that just continued to freak me out more. Trisha was surprised they came to me. She had to hike it to the Chicago police station where she and the officer were sitting on one side of bullet proof class while some yokel on the other side was trying to determine if they gun now in police possession was loaded. The officer finally shot it into a trash can I think. And cab drivers were acting out their accident scenes with matchbox cars. Good Midwestern living.

I have to document everything and send it to him tomorrow. I ran a credit check just to make sure nothing new had been opened, there is one thing I can’t track down, but I’m still working on it. I checked all my other credit cards, everything else looked fine. A credit report is like This Is Your Life...ah, my old car...ah, my first house loan...one kept asking me to verify old addresses...who remembers all that stuff?

So I decide to go to yoga and the class really was great. But remember how the one chick would come around and put aromatherapy eye pillows on us when she turned on the God tunes? I loved those little eye pillows. Well this girl said she was coming around to do mini massages...yeah...massages...boo jack Johnson horning in on my vegging outness at the end of class. (tomorrow I’m doing reki – I’ll let you know how it goes – my old spinning teacher was just certified) She not only does a little massage, which I will be better prepared for next time and not put my jacket back on. She used this amazing, strongly scented oil on our temples. I smell like I’m somehow channeling a spa or an aveda counter. I’m afraid to wash my face before I go to bed for fear of making it go away. I thought I could only smell it but the cashier at Dierberg’s said...Are you wearing something herbal? She was loving it and said she wanted it for her room. I told her I’d asked next time I went because I want to know too. Whatever it is, it put me back in my happy place....literally....being back at work, credit card stolen...no worries...all I need is a little rubbing and some good semi-narcotic scented oils.