The Proof is in the Chips
Today, I got all the proof I need that God knows me and loves me. Not that I need proof. Faith and all that. But you get where I'm going.
I work out over my lunch hours. I can’t say why. Because I’m a masochist or obsessive or because I have the coolest trainer this side of the Mississippi. It’s anyone’s guess.
And to those of you who are detailed oriented, it would obviously indicate that I have to eat lunch at a different time. So, I usually grab a protein shake along with a sandwich or salad or pizza or whatever I’m in the mood for. Makes sense to gorge on pizza right after an intense workout (don’t analyze the logic).
I zip on over to Coffee Tree, which is just across the street from the gym (it’s not an actual coffee tree—it’s the name of the café).
They always ask me if I want chips or grapes with my order. Sometimes I say chips and sometimes I say grapes. But I always want the chips.
I try really hard to get the grapes though, so when they say “chips or grapes?” I’ll despondently sigh and reply, “Grapes.” Why you would want grapes when you can have crispy, salty, potato-y goodness, I’ll never understand. And there’s the fact that they’re basically a close cousin to vodka. Like why even argue?
So as I said, I woefully reply, “Grapes.” As I go to pick them up and am waiting for my order, the whole time I’m thinking and lamenting about how much I’d rather have chips, but hold strong, and don’t change my order. I get my food and drive off back to work.
Once I’m back at work, I clock in, log on to my computer, start in on a project, and am absentmindedly getting my food out to eat.
Okay, I’m getting goosebumps. Are you ready for it?
The last THREE times I ordered grapes, I STILL got chips.
God’s love is real, peeps. And he wants me to be happy. Chills.
#dontarguewithGod #orvodka
I work out over my lunch hours. I can’t say why. Because I’m a masochist or obsessive or because I have the coolest trainer this side of the Mississippi. It’s anyone’s guess.
And to those of you who are detailed oriented, it would obviously indicate that I have to eat lunch at a different time. So, I usually grab a protein shake along with a sandwich or salad or pizza or whatever I’m in the mood for. Makes sense to gorge on pizza right after an intense workout (don’t analyze the logic).
I zip on over to Coffee Tree, which is just across the street from the gym (it’s not an actual coffee tree—it’s the name of the café).
They always ask me if I want chips or grapes with my order. Sometimes I say chips and sometimes I say grapes. But I always want the chips.
I try really hard to get the grapes though, so when they say “chips or grapes?” I’ll despondently sigh and reply, “Grapes.” Why you would want grapes when you can have crispy, salty, potato-y goodness, I’ll never understand. And there’s the fact that they’re basically a close cousin to vodka. Like why even argue?
So as I said, I woefully reply, “Grapes.” As I go to pick them up and am waiting for my order, the whole time I’m thinking and lamenting about how much I’d rather have chips, but hold strong, and don’t change my order. I get my food and drive off back to work.
Once I’m back at work, I clock in, log on to my computer, start in on a project, and am absentmindedly getting my food out to eat.
Okay, I’m getting goosebumps. Are you ready for it?
The last THREE times I ordered grapes, I STILL got chips.
God’s love is real, peeps. And he wants me to be happy. Chills.
#dontarguewithGod #orvodka
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