A couple of weeks ago, a small handful of us went to lunch after church (as is our want) and had a good time fellowshipping and enjoying the out-of-doors. Nothing fancy here, just a quick walk drive over to the nearby Rubio’s (one of the benefits of having church in a movie theater). Now you may recall that Rubio’s is know around these parts as having trouble with names. Specifically, mine. Or at least spelling names. And I don’t mean picking the wrong spelling of a common name with 101 different spellings like Ashley/Ashlee/Ashlei/Ashlie/Ashly. I mean like Klyad, Georsh, and Toast. Ok so they got the last one right but that’s another story.
So if you haven’t figured it out yet, I use fake names at Rubio’s. This time I didn’t. And neither did anyone else in our group. But apparently my friend Chris is a lot more pious than the rest of us. On his receipt it reads Christ. As in our Lord and Saviour, Maker of Heaven and Earth, the Divine Logos. And patron of casual Mexican eateries.
