God is working at Caribou

So I had my math final today. This is the class that I just have an a*****e for a professor in. I was feeling kinda confident that I would do well on this test because I had done well on a few previous tests. I was also feeling nervous because the last two tests I had done rather poorly despite my best efforts and also had had a huge spat with my professor. A lot was kind of riding on this final. Anyways, long story short, didn't do so hot on the final and may just have to retake the class depending on how he curves his grades, which I seriously doubt he does because he hasn't done so for anything else.

I was seriously bummed about my poor test grade and seriously hungry because of being prego and beyond exhausted because I went to bed very sick last night and then had raging insomnia from 1:30-4:30. So I made a few stops in Little Mexico/Little Asia, a donut store that was closed, Taco Bell, a pre-pay gas station with ten really creepy little Hispanic guys who looked like they were going to rob the place (WHAT- they kept patting their pockets furtively, glancing around and conversing in low rapid fire Spanish), and finally because I really needed a little pick me up, Caribou coffee.

There's really nothing I like better than the holiday beverages at Caribou and Starbucks. I look forward to those just as much as everything else during the holiday season that I love, and I haven't had ANY Starbucks or Caribou for nearly two months. I was in serious withdrawals. Yes, I know I'm supposed to cut back on caffeine during pregnancy and believe me I have, but after my test, and my sleep deprivation, and just how glum I've been feeling lately, baby in my belly and I needed a little pick me up.

Anyways after having a rousing conversation with Sarah about how her dumb boyfriend was having karmic repercussions on his socks, I finally pulled into Caribou. Caribou is clear across town but in a different direction than anything else in Sioux City because NOTHING is centrally located. Sioux City is a scattered, illogical mess of a town, it's difficult to get around and takes forever to get from point a to point b. So I roll into Caribou, styling in my dented, dirty white Monte, and my comfies and my frizzy hair and under eye circles, order my latte and pull up to the window.

Low and behold, I was not prepared for the vision seared into my eyeballs awaiting me. The drive-through window worker was our Lord, God. At least, he was the very replica of a lot of bad art that depicts God's image. He was Gandalf from Miami. He had long, flowing white hair. He had a long, flowing white beard. Both were long, and shiny, and looked as smooth as corn silk. He was wearing a white, flowy shirt. He had pale, blue Germanic eyes because every painting of God favors pale, blue germanic eyes for some reason or another and tan skin. Tan as in tanned, not naturally tan. I wonder how he could be tan when the weather is this putrid, but it definitely wasn't flourescent, orange , tanning bed tan.

He also wore a dream catcher earrin. This is perhaps my favorite aspect of having seen this guys.

He spoke in that soft, soothing, counselor voice that they attempt to teach you the technique of in grad programs aimed towards training counselors. He smiled softly. He was both and awe and fear inspiring but wierdly comforting. It was one of the strangest images I have ever seen, that someone could, in reality, look this way.

But then again, I am pregnant and delusional. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it was just a vision from God and not the real deal. But if it were a vision granted by God, wouldn't he have something more prophetic to say than double checking my order and counting back my change?

Just food for thought.