“Oh, yeah,” Anna said, reading aloud the line. “‘They find fulfillment with those born in the year of the c**k’.” Anna could just imagine it—a 102-year-old woman finding great fulfillment with a newborn baby. Sighing out loud to avoid laughing, Anna said, “I can see you worked really hard on all this, but—well, what’s the point? I mean, you can’t always plan on what year your parents are born in, or the person you fall in love with”—Anna noticed that the old lady hadn’t figured out any year-sign for the “Father Unknown” listed on Ma’s birth certificate, and wondered, Didn’t you ask him how old was, or didn’t you care?—“so what good is it? It’s like zodiac signs—once you figure in the rising signs, and cusps and all twelve houses of this and that, it ends up that everyone has a touch of all
