I'm not exactly sure when I started tucking these little slips of paper into my purse instead of leaving them along with the debris of the meal on the table, just another thing to be cleared away after I leave. There is something charming about them that made me want to take them along. Maybe it that they generally offer something positive (although I have had one or two weird ones that are ambiguous). Maybe it's the whimsy of the thing, the kitsch of them. I am, after all, a sucker for kitsch.
I think more than either of those things, though, it's the fact that these become artifacts of moments for me. I always go to Chinese restaurants with my family or my friends, so we're opening the cookies together, laughing over the advice inside, trying to pronounce the words, trying to figure out if the "magic cookies" have truly figured us out or not. They are mementos of happy times, and although as I look at this little box now, I cannot remember when exactly I split open that tan confection that told me "If the world seems cold, kindle a fire to warm it," or "You'll have all sorts of chances to make a happy encounter," I know it must have been preceded by pleasant conversation and togetherness.
Someday, I will think of some kind of craft project or something to use these in an interesting way. Until then, I will just keep adding them to their little box periodically and stirring them with my finger and remembering. It's just another eccentricity, I suppose. However, if it hurts no one and makes me happy, where is the harm?
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And then you said.....