Fortune Cookies and One Lucky Duck

I’ve rewritten this #TheYearToBe___ post on being lucky a handful of times. At the end of each one, it reads more like the gratitude post than the luck post. (I can’t practice being lucky. There were several other L words on my list on NYE. Why did I pick this one?)

It all comes down to this: whether I call it luck or fate or the hand of the Divine, it’s clear that I’ve led a charmed life.

  • I was born into a wonderful family and have never questioned if I’m loved.
  • I have a stable of friends, near and far, who support me and make me laugh.
  • I am well educated, well fed, and have a very comfortable roof over my head.

All in all, I’m one of the luckiest gals around. Things just seem to always work out for me. Nailing an audition. Getting into the college of my choice. Scoring a full scholarship to grad school. Accepting an amazing professional position. And, hopefully, getting the call some day. Soon. (Please?) :)

I don’t want to poopoo all the hard work I’ve done, because I’ve worked pretty hard in my life, but most of the pivotal life moments have been the result, in part, of luck. The proverbial oh, you do X? My friend does X. You should meet this friend. And then that friend makes all of my dreams come true—or at least helps me on my way to make them happen.

Luck. Fate. Hand of the Divine. Serious business. 

What's not serious business? The fortune cookie. 

I love fortune cookies. Do you? I didn’t grow up eating at Asian places—those were few and far between in west Texas back in the day. But I loved the idea of them; some character on TV or in the movies was always ordering takeout in those fancy paper cartons and cracking open a cookie at the end of the meal. They seemed so romantic. The idea that a tiny slip of paper could change your destiny or at least give you some insight. 

Cracking open that cookie and eating it—even though that cookie can either be mildly yummy or taste like cardboard—never fails to thrill.

I have a little fortune-cookie-eating ritual. While chewing, I hold the fortune tight in one fist without looking at it. I don’t know if this is a legit tradition or just something I do. But I will not look at the fortune until I’ve consumed the cookie.

And then I read the fortune, breathless, wondering what luck is in store for me. A handsome stranger? Clarity of mind? A financial windfall?

I’m sad when places don’t print lucky numbers on the back. I never do anything with those numbers, but I always get a little thrill out of them if one (or more) match up with my lucky numbers. It’s like the presence of one of my numbers somehow imbues the fortune with more…fortune.

Sometimes I tuck a fortune in my wallet or in a random spot in my car. I’ve used them as bookmarks. I like to stumble upon them later. They’re always good for a laugh. And I love playing the “in bed” game. Because as much as I like the pseudo woo-woo aspect of the fortune, I’m a complete goofball.

If you meet me at a conference or at a local RWA meeting and ask for my card, I’ll give you one of my mini Moo cards complete with a fortune on the front (with “in bed” happily supplied for you).

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As for the “and then there were five dudes in her bed” fortune? Well, that’s quite a story. And one for another day as I’m still waiting to get that lucky.