Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Speaking Of Fortunes...

Like everybody else, I carry a greatest hits collection of fortune cookie fortunes in my wallet, right up against the license. I'm considering an impending vetting, but until I do, here's what's been worth keeping, with bonus editor's-cut commentary:

> Never trouble troubles till trouble troubles you.
Okay, what? I had to read this one several times to make sure it made sense. I'm still not sure. Additionally, note that this is technically not a fortune, but advice.

> You are almost there.
Almost where? This one also comes with just enough lucky numbers to make me wonder if I'm supposed to be almost at the store buying lottery tickets.

> Your future is as boundless as the lofty heaven.
Not sure why this one is here. Must have been having a pretty good day to feel validated by something so fluffy.

> Your happiness is intertwined with your outlook on life.
Don't think about this one too long -- you're not supposed to notice it's obvious, circular, and meaningless. Sure sounds good, in a Zen kind of way, though, doesn't it?

> You may attend a party where strange customs prevail.
Good. Sounds like my kind of party, unless by "strange customs" you mean goat sacrifice or Twister or something.

> A handful of patience is worth a bushel of brains.
As someone with a bushel and a peck of brainmatter and a self-inflicted sufferer of damnfool rash foot-in-mouth on a daily basis, I can assure you this is both true and difficult to accept. I keep this fortune right over my license picture so I'll see it often, and pray that one day I might osmose it through my butt, amoebalike.

> It is a nice day.
Recieved this evening. Simplicity itself; incidentally incorrect.

For the curious, also in my brownleather wallet right now: the driver's license itself; assorted receipts and ATM spew-outs; credit and debit cards, HMO card, and Red Cross donor card; a half-full buy-ten-get-one-free punch card from Magical Child toy store; a ticket stub from the second annual North Atlantic Folk Festival four summers ago; pictures of wife and child playing in the snow; a neon green index card with family, friend, and emergency phone numbers; emergency painkillers; an unfilled perscription for Neosynephrine; handwritten tiny-font blogentries-to-be from the Florida trip two months ago; three Bangladeshi bills in almost mint condition; business cards from the Malaysian Ambassador to Bangladesh, and from friend and summer-in-Bangladesh co-instructor Azra Naseem, of Pakistan. No cash.