Tag Archives: fortune cookies

Fortune keeper

images2The little white paper slips from fortune cookies are all over my side of the bedroom, scattered like confetti.

W and I will eat Chinese in bed on the weekend and watch a movie. We’ll read our fortunes to each other. I’ll usually toss my mine on my nightstand if it’s good.

The harder you work, the luckier you get.

Sometimes travel to new places leads to great transformations.

The dictionary is the only place where success comes before work.

But then a breeze from an open window or the blast of air from a book being dropped nearby or the wind created by a rustling sheet will cause them to fly into the air like snowflakes.

I never throw them away. Except for the silly ones.

You like Chinese food.

Help. Trapped in cookie.

I’m superstitious. Even though I’ll tell you I’m not.

img_0677Sometimes I’ll bundle up those small white strips and clip them to the filing cabinet near my desk.

All of those wishes and good thoughts in one thin stack.

How can I not have good fortune if I hold onto them all?

* * *

What about you? Do you believe in fortune cookie fortunes? What are you superstitious about?


The year of the butch

Subtitle: Obligatory post after getting Freshly Pressed (Seriously, it’s in the WordPress rulebook.)

Wow, it’s only January and so much has happened in my busy butch life.

Curse you, evil fortune cookie lady!

Curse you, evil fortune cookie lady!

Before 2014 even started, there was an omen that things were going to be different. A fortune cookie that I innocently selected after a takeout meal of shrimp in lobster sauce instructed me to “welcome change.”  It was an evil fortune cookie, apparently baked and stuffed by evil people in an evil fortune cookie factory. Anyone who knows me knows I despise change. I am more rigid than a brand new pair of Dr. Marten’s eight-eyelet lace-up boots.

Things I like more than change:
— Paper cuts
— Use of the “word” womyn
— Calculus
— That Nationwide commercial with the giant baby

This never happened.

This never happened.

And then the new year came, and the world didn’t explode.

I started writing again after hibernating like a big ol’ bear (or furry lesbian who hasn’t shaved her legs all winter).

I’ve since finished another memoir chapter.

I wrote a blog post about a message from the universe that was delivered by a mystic plumber and got Freshly Pressed. Like three minutes after I posted it.

That’s when I declared 2014 “the year of the butch.”

It’s a new year, and I’m trying to welcome change. Like I would my least favorite aunt or perhaps 35 inches of snow. So, maybe not with open arms but with a curt, businesslike handshake.

I have a whole bunch of new followers thanks to getting FP’d. Is it just me or does that sound weird and wrong?

So, welcome new followers.

A few things you should know about me:

  • Pet peeves — Use of the “word” womyn. (You can’t just make up words, people. Old crunchy lesbian, I’m talking to you.)
  • Confession — Sometimes I blog about my cats. (You can read my all-time favorite cat story here in a post deftly titled “Of mice and lesbians.”)  I have no clue why this has not been optioned for a TV mini-series or children’s book.
  • Other things to know about me — I blog a lot about gender, the butch-femme spectrum and what it’s like to be called “sir” when I’m shopping at the grocery store. People tend to like these posts a lot. My work in progress — a memoir that I hope to sell for millions of dollars to a mainstream publishing giant — is about that kind of stuff, too. (Note: I will not sell the book if the publisher insists on calling it One Womyn’s Struggle or Some People Think This Womyn Is a Myn. Okay, maybe for a million bucks. The thought of a brand new Subaru Outback and a shopping spree in the young men’s department of our local department store is too tempting.  I am, after all, a butch and not a rock.)
  • My partner — I call her “W.” She is my muse. Not that I sketch her naked — that’s some other blog, sicko — but because she inspires me to be my best butch. She always laughs out loud at my blog posts (when appropriate, of course) and pretty much thinks I’m a super-talented writer. What’s not to love?
  • Sometimes I — Post gratuitous pictures of sexy women. Because I can.  Sorry, Heidi Klum.
  • Frozen pipe update — Pipes froze again. I thawed them out with a hairdryer. Which is weird because me butch. You hairdryer. Have you any idea how short my hair is? But thawing frozen pipes, even  with a hair styling accessory, is how you keep your lesbian card current.
  • Goals for 2014 — 1,000 blog followers, finish memoir manuscript, try to sell memoir manuscript. Other things, too, like self-improvement, blah, blah, blah, give to poor, blah, blah, blah, add more T-shirts to embarrassingly large collection.

In 2013 The Flannel Files was viewed 15,000 times. That’s about how many lesbians attend an average Melissa Etheridge concert. Which kinda makes me Melissa Etheridge. Well, not really. But I love me some Melissa. You should know that about me, too.

So, thanks for joining with millions of other Flannel Files followers. Ok, so, like, 600 hundred and some.  And enjoy the ride and the soft but rugged power of flannel.

* * *

Enough about me.  What about you?  Tell me something, anything about yourself.  Surprise me.

I hate change

So innocent sitting there in your clear plastic pouch like you have nothing to hide

A few days before ringing in the new year, we ordered Chinese takeout.

As I ate my shrimp with lobster sauce, I stared at the fortune cookies that sat on the coffee table in their cellophane wrappers.  This is it, I told myself. The defining fortune for 2014. The single thought that will guide me in the 365 days to come.

This is how I make all of my important decisions.

This is how I live my life. Giving things like cookies and totems and Magic 8 Balls way too much power.

Holding my breath, I opened the plastic wrapper, snapped the cookie in half and carefully slid out the white strip of paper.

“Welcome change,” it read.

Whaaat? Obviously, there had been a mix-up at the fortune cookie factory. This fortune was intended for someone less uptight and rigid. Miley Cyrus, perhaps.

I handed the fortune to W, and she just laughed. (A very robust, hearty laugh.)

Because here’s the thing: I hate change.

It’s probably because we moved around so much when I was a kid. We were supposed to pretend that we had outgrown our house and our friends like last year’s blue jeans, even though none of that was true.

While my fortune advised me to welcome change, I told W that wasn’t happening.

“This is the year that I teach the universe a lesson,” I announced.

I had this visual of me trying to stop the world from spinning, tendrils of smoke rising from the rubber soles of my Dr. Marten’s as I tried to hold on.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” she replied, returning her attention to her chicken mei fun.

She knows not to encourage me.

Of course, it would be crazy to think that there won’t be change in the new year. But change is scary, and I don’t do scary.

I like same and comfortable. My pillow that has been perfectly flattened from years of use, a well-worn T-shirt, my morning newspaper, my car radio tuned to the 24-hour sports channel.

Back to my fortune. Failing to heed such ancient fortune cookie wisdom would be bad.  But change is bad.

People, your favorite butch blogger was caught between a rock and a hard place.

Sometimes when I get stuck with my writing, I look up words in the dictionary.

a. To cause to be different.
b. To give a completely different form or appearance to; transform.

That’s when it hit me.  Transform. I might be resistant to change, but I can transform. I’ve done that. I’m still doing that.

I think transform seems less scary, because it implies keeping the old and just tweaking it.

When you change a tire, you substitute a new one for the old one.  When you change your mind, you turn a “yes” into a “no” or vice versa.

Monarch butterflyWhen you transform, you get to hold onto a part of the old.  A caterpillar transforms into a butterfly, but both have the same DNA.

So, if I were to welcome change or transformation in 2014 — not that I plan to or anything like that, Universe — here are some transformations that I might actually embrace:

  • Transforming into a writer who writes everyday (or almost everyday).
  • Transforming into a published author.
  • Transforming into a person who forgives more easily.
  • Transforming into a person who readily gives praise and compliments and thanks.
  • Transforming into someone who is constantly in awe of the greatness of God and gives daily thanks and praise.
  • Continuing to transform into my best butch.

* * *

What about you? What transformations do you hope to make in 2014?