As a journalist, I must begin with a disclaimer: More than half the facts in the following story can’t be verified, and some might even be completely false.
But that’s the risk you take when you write about your own future.
Thursday morning, after years of nagging curiosity, I sat for a palm reading with Ruby Adams, a professional psychic in Costa Mesa. I’d had my palm read once before — by a girl in my 10th-grade English class who had no business license — and I wanted to give the official treatment a try.
In less than an hour, I learned that I’m destined for a long and happy marriage, that I’ll have a new home in the next few months, and that I may have been a war correspondent in one life. But more on that in a moment.