So, I have succumbed to the cuteness that is bunnies. I am wondering if this is a terrible thing or not. I have never liked rabbits. I have known people with rabbits and thought their pets sucked, and now I am a bunny-owner. Here’s how it happened: The Fiery One, another couple, and I were out for breakfast yesterday, and I had this brilliant idea that we should all go look at the pile of bunnies before parting ways, because I have been privy to rumours that the humane society was coming to exterminate the critters this coming week. We drove over to find that all the bunnies but one were missing. The mother and her nine babies were all gone, and this little grey one was huddled up alone in the back of the cardboard box, shivering from the wet and cold. After a few minutes of trying to think rationally and pretending to be weighing this decision logically in my mind, and with help from the Fiery One, I ended up spending the next few minutes chasing this little ball of fuzziness through the bushes and attempting to coax him out from under a metal protuberance with a stick. I jammed him into my coat, and our friends drove us over to the pet store to spend too much money on a rabbit cage and accessories. The ladies at work have been watching these rabbits for months and believe that the father is half jackrabbit, so that makes tiny Diego three-quarters cottontail and one-quarter jack. I am imagining him growing to some ungainly size, and that one morning I will wake up to a cage filled with a monstrous rabbit. (My pet history is a terrible one overall, so I am always filled with worst-case-scenario thoughts with the arrival of a new dependent until things have settled down). The crazy things that made me grab Diego and stuff him in my coat were: 1) the humane society was the most probable culprit in the theft of nine members of his rabbit-family, 2) his life was unfairly in danger if they came back for him, and 3) little Diego was the only one left out of all of them, and he was the one that I had kind of grown attached to and molested every day. It was fate. Now he’s in my living room, happily hopping about in his cage. Actually, I am not sure what sex it is yet, and I think I will wait a while before attempting to find out. I still don’t know if I like rabbits, but Diego is the cutest bunny-wunny dat ever did wiv.
The Fiery One and I have been out for asian food twice this weekend already, and both times my fortune cookie gave me multiple fortunes. This happens to me more often than not. Does that mean anything? My five fortunes read as follows:
You will have gold pieces by the bushel. (This one I like).
One of the strangest fortune cookies that I ever opened told me that I would take guitar lessons. I never did.
Fortune Cookie Facts and Links:
* The predecessor to the fortune cookie was biscuits with messages inside, consumed by Chinese labourers working on the railroads in the mid-1800's. They ate them during the annual autumn Moon festival, since the traditional Chinese festive food, mooncakes, weren't available.
* The Moon Festival and its mooncakes.
* Hankering for the homemade variety? Here's how to make fortune cookies.
* Fortune cookies are not even Chinese! The fortune cookie was invented by Los Angeles noodle manufacturer David Jung in 1919 if you go by some sources, or by Makota Hagiwara, manager of Golden Gate Park's Japanese Tea Garden in San Francisco in 1909 if you go by others. The true original inventor of the fortune cookie is lost to history.
* The first fortune cookie factory opened in China in 1993.
* The nutritional value of the fortune cookie.
* One version of fortune cookie history.
* There is little question about the intention of these fortunes.