It's the Chinese New Year. The year of the ox. That is good news. Anybody sees that ox, send it to Wall Street, right away, to start acting all bullish, ASAP. If he mows down Mr. Madoff on the way, folks would consider that bonus. Anyway, the question was posed, somewhere out in blogdom, 'Do you believe fortune cookies?' Pffft. Next thing you know, we'll have people disputing the truth of Bazooka Joe's fortune at the bottom of the Bazooka comic tucked inside the Bazooka bubble gum.
(IS NOTHING SACRED?)
Anyhow, I will tell you now how I know that fortune cookies are the real deal. Just after my son Dylan was born, 22+ years ago, my aunt and uncle came to visit us in Gaithersburg, Md, outside of Washington, DC. They were visiting from Podunk Pennsylvania (side note: I moved back to Podunk PA, and they sold out, and spend their lives moving about the US in a giant mobile home. I try not to take this personally. But I digress. Their life of leisure and travel has nothing to do with fortune cookies.) Anyhoo, being ambassadors of city living, we asked my auntie and unc what they would like to do. One of the things on their list was to eat Chinese food. They had never done that. Easy enough to do. Ethnic restaurants are everywhere in the Washington metro area, so the first evening we had open, we went to a Chinese restaurant with a 5 year old and a newborn in tow. The first half of the meal was nice enough. Then Dylan began to cry. He would not stop. (Little did I know that he would not stop for the next six months. But I digress. This post is not about six months of colic.) I was mortified, feeling as if we were disrupting everyone's meal, and the beast would not be soothed. I was hormonal and beginning to stress. I wanted to cry myself. The bawling cranked up to screaming. Our cheerful waitress kept telling us not to worry about the baby, but I couldn't stand it anymore. We rushed through the rest of our meal, and the bill was brought to our table, along with the fortune cookies. Everyone cracked their fortune cookies open, and had a good laugh. There was one cookie left after we all had ours, and everyone was charmed that they had brought a cookie for that squalling baby. We all howled when we read his fortune. It said, 'There is a time for silence.'
This is how I know that fortune cookies are the real deal.
I'm going to believe in the year of the ox, as well.
He'd sure look nice prancing up and down Wall Street.