I enjoy the wisdom that fortune cookies hold. You can’t drag me away from my restaurant chair until I’ve read mine and everyone else’s. No fortune should go undigested, even if all are computer generated and duplicated into the millions.
Sometimes the advice is clever: “Never wear a watch that has more buttons than one has fingers.”
The best fortunes I’ve ever had were from my sister. Linda gave my husband a box called Miss Fortune Cookies – Fortunes for the Real World. The first one I opened read: “You will soon spend time in a foreign jail.” How cheering. Another was: “You’re paranoid, but that doesn’t mean the CIA isn’t tracking you.”
I have as much faith in fortune cookie advice as I have with my daily horoscope. I smirk at the fiery love life my stars promise to deliver: “You’ll find yourself in a romantic clinch that really sizzles tonight.”
Or, is this insight intended for my husband, since we share the same sign?
If I believed in horoscopes, that last one might worry me because Paul’s working out of town tonight . . . better give him a call and tell him how much I adore him, just to be on the safe side.
Rather than dwell on dashed romance, I’ll share more of Miss Fortune’s insights: “No matter how hard you lobby, they will not put a TV in your prison cell.” (Miss Fortune must have done some hard time, with all her references to incarceration.)
And then there’s my fave: “Hats lined with newspaper offer some protection against falling debris.” These are logical fortunes that go well with my mood.
Speaking of mood, my newsfeeds suggest that women should plan their schedules around their hormonal cycles. The findings are great in theory, but as with fortune cookies and horoscopes, not everything has practical applications.
This hormonology recommends my actions during a 28-day cycle. From days one to 14, I’m going to be interested in sex; however, on days 22 and 23, I might as well re-caulk the tub. The fireworks aren’t going to be spectacular.
I’ve no idea how these experts coordinate their lives, but postponing events isn’t always feasible, or friendly.
Let’s compare sex to camping. Some days I don’t feel like camping. Perhaps I’d rather lounge with a book and a glass of wine.
But there’s my husband to consider. He’s already packed the truck and is eager to hit the road. What am I supposed to say, “Sorry fella, my hormonal chart isn’t in your court today”?
Instead, I pull on my hiking boots and bring the marshmallows. The campfire is quickly lit and . . . whatya know? Once we toast our marshmallows, we both end up having fun. Spectacular fun.
For me, a tailor-made approach works best, not a one-size-fits-all, whether we’re talking cycles or stars.
The only certainty is that retailers aren’t behind this cyclical wisdom when your horoscope or hormonology reads: “Don’t make any major purchases today.” And imagine those poor credit card companies, but that’s the way the (fortune) cookie crumbles.
Miss Fortune will have the last word: “Get under a sturdy piece of furniture or door frame and hold on.” Now that’s advice I can wrap my head around.
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