English: Christmas cookies Deutsch: Weihnachtskekse (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

First Tennessee Bank took my thumbprint today and it made my stomach and neck and shoulders ache and tremble like guilty for a little while.

So here I am now, changing this whole piece that I first wrote, because something else happened and now I feel more guilty and more responsible and less competent and less caring, but also a need to think back and defend myself.

The apostle Paul felt stupid for defending himself, when he did in one of his letters (or more). I’m not a magnificent Christian, like Paul was, but I’m insecure, like Paul was, so here I go, playing defense.

I’ll leave in the part about feeling responsible, so much so that I gave a sick woman almost my last $5 today, not out of any noble motive, but because I felt obligated.

When I was walking to get the cash, somebody else met me in the parking lot and asked if I was going to St. Therese church Saturday, could I pick up a blanket for her mama. I’ll leave that part in the story for today too.

That’s Just the Way It Is and we should take Bruce Hornsby‘s advice and not say “get a job” just for fun (I guess). Sometimes people can’t find a job anymore, but I still resented giving away my pretty warm afghan blanket, with green and white roses woven in, to somebody else’s mama. (Don’t you think Jesus felt weary, when He said “the poor you will always have with you”?)

I gave away that blanket because I did not feel like driving to St. Therese to get somebody else a blanket this weekend. The weak and poor and needy can wear you out, and now I’m weak and poor and needy myself, missing a blanket. I’m supposed to be more grown-up, not still hanging on to transitional objects for security.

Anyway, I’m about to go home soon and watch some TV, Lord willing. My TV is like a service pet and keeps me company.

Sometimes life makes you feel like wearin’ leech socks, but I feel like a leech myself, always trying to feel worthwhile and leech-less, comin’ or goin’. (Be sure of this, like a friend told me, God will make sure you see the other side of the story, if you’re unlucky (and lucky).

There’s no special virtue in being poor, I’m learning. And the Bible says the wicked prosper, so that’s not the best part of the deal either.

The best financial place to be is somewhere in the middle, because that’s where the backbone is and from there, all things radiate.

Back to the bank story. When I went to cash that check to pay a bill, the bank teller held out this black plastic thing with some slick waxy-feeling stuff in it. She said I had to put my thumb in that container and then put my thumbprint on that check, because some people steal checks and try to cash them, so thumbprints help the bank track thieves.

So now, my thumbprint is on an important piece of paper, floating around somewhere in banker space.

Did you ever wonder why Jesus let Judas Iscariot run the bank, since Jesus knows all things, and Jesus knew Judas Iscariot was a thief?

What has happened? What has happened to the days when all the thumbprints we had to worry about were the ones on Christmas cookies? I love those thumbprint cookies, the cookie part, not the too-sweet icing part. What’s wrong with me, wishing for a perfect cookie?

Now let me do what Paul did and feel stupid defending myself, but stupid is better than worthless: I used to be a bank teller, a newspaper reporter and a library clerk, competent and capable and went to jobs daily, and sometimes at night, like when I had to go to a lake late one night, to report on a drowned body being dragged up…or another night, when there was an armed robbery at Hardwick Farms, here in Cleveland, Tennessee. (One of the robbers became a Christian later).

There are more capable stories to tell, but no more room at the inn right now.

Let me try to think about getting back to the capable place.

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English: Picture of Fazoli’s sign. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A recent visit to Fazoli’s in Cleveland, Tennessee was a pleasant paradox of fast fine dining.

It felt like eating in an expensive uptown restaurant and from the abundant family table at the same time.

The service was impeccable. A professional but friendly female associate asked me for my order, which was two slices of pepperoni pizza and a drink from the Freestyle Coca-Cola machine. There’s a lot of freedom with the eating experience at Fazoli’s, since you can mix your own soft drinks and try variations of pasta dishes ranging from pizza to baked ziti.

Other delectable menu items that let Fazoli’s “say it with pasta” range from chicken broccoli penne to Cherry Chicken salad. For dessert, there are flavors of Italian lemon ice, turtle cheesecake and more. The chocolate layer cake looked moist, dense and decadent.

That day, what I noticed most about my delicious pizza was the incredible crust–possibly one of the best pizza crusts I’ve ever tried. Somehow, Fazoli’s managed to create a strikingly good pizza difference with an upper crust that was light and fluffy and a bottom crust that was lightly crispy and golden. The pepperoni itself was deliciously meaty and salty, like cured meats are, but it was not too greasy.

When I ordered lunch that day, the lady associate went out of her way to make things better. She gave me a number for my order and offered me a warm garlic bread stick while I waited until she brought the food to the table. She wrapped the bread in paper and gave it to me with encouraging words. (I took two of the bread sticks home and warmed one up for breakfast this morning).

That day at Fazoli’s, I sat down with a copy of the Chattanooga Times Free Press in a relaxed atmosphere where I found good food that was Italian, fast and fresh, with romantic music in the background.

Stop by Fazoli’s for something familiar and something different all at once. Bring a friend or your family for a good and wholesome night out.

At Fazoli’s, even the red and white take-out cups encourage us to eat well and get along too. As one bright message suggested, one simple caring question like “do you still like the color blue?” might lead to a peaceful meal. It’s a start.

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