Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 2.6

“I would not marry her though
She were endowed with all that Adam
Had left him before he transgressed.”

Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing [II.i.234-6]

As Mercury turns East (retrograde) in Pisces — into Aquarius.

Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 2.6.2014

Aquarius: As an Aquarius-sympathetic individual, one of the few, I understand. I feel your pain. Mercury, not usually a big deal as it turns east, is a big deal. As a lover of all things Aquarian, I’m with you. I can feel it, too. It’s not a big thing, it’s a little thing. It’s not the major obstacles, it’s the little, annoying details (what Virgo’s are for). The smallest of details, the tiniest of distractions, the worst offender?

“Oh look, I forgot about this!”

What were we discussing? The bright, shiny object syndrome is more pronounced, now. This week. “Oh look, over there….”

Stop that. Stop it right now. Mercury Retrograde isn’t always bad, and the trick to keep your tenuous grip on reality, the clue? Concentrate. Mercury and mercurial objects, the Bright Shiny Object syndrome, that’s the culprit. Takes more focus than usual, but stick to the stated — Aquarius — goal. Stick your single goal, and don’t get distracted.

“Wow, would you look at that?”

No.

Pisces: Get a clipboard. With this impending and recurrent Mercury Retrograde situation? Simplest solution? Get a clipboard.

I first noticed this when a client pointed out that all a man (sexist, yes) needed was a white lab coat, and he would be believable as an expert. I think I look rather silly in a white lab coat. If it meant folks would take me more serious? Nope, still can’t imagine me wearing one. I’m all about comfort, not style. Substance, not packaging. However, as this Mercurial period starts to really make progress and, and, and wreaks tiny, localized areas of havoc?

Get a clipboard. I have one. Several. My favorite is made from recycled detergent bottles, all melted in melee of colors. Not very officious looking, but it does the job, and me, you know, Austin and all? Have to look like what works.

The clipboard idea goes beyond being a mere prop, too. While it does help, for your Pisces self, it does look good if you stop and consult a clipboard, in hand, as if you were checking items off list, while that does help? More important? It’s gives a moment’s pause.

Get a clipboard. There is a secondary notation, that goes with it. You can write down items, notes, spurious trivia you can’t forget this week? That’s what you can use the clipboard for, as well. To deal with this Mercury Retrograde? Get a clipboard.

Aries: I have very few pieces of equipment that I am sentimental about. One of them is a very old iPod. It’s so old, it has a real hard drive in it. Real, crashed hard drive. The little thing quit running a few years ago, and periodically, I’ll take it out and try to reboot it, but it is an exercise in futility. On more than one occasion, I’ve gotten pissed off, and slammed it down on the desktop, hoping that action would jar something loose. No luck.

As hardware, it served its purpose, fulfilled its mission, as a sound storage and playback device, for three or four years, and the last year, it was plugged in because the battery was beginning to fade. Still, I have this misguided sense of hope that I can hit it with right combination of brute force, software, and guile, and that I can make it serviceable — again. Tried several times, no luck. In the next week, with what I see in your chart, I see you digging out your old nemesis, and I see you — frustrated — attempting to correct an injustice that can’t be fixed. Wait, if I just connect it differently, I can get at the hard drive and get it to start spinning again. I’m sure there’s something I haven’t tried. See the frustration?

Taurus: I’ve had much fun with what little Latin I can recall. I’ve used masters and mentors to assist me, and these days, even the might of inter-webs can usually translate an expression. Maybe not the whole thing, and sometimes I have to tinker with the grammar to get to work correctly, but it can be done. Latin is a logical language, too, as it follows specific structures. Part of English is probably rooted in Latin, but I leave that lively discussion for the linguists and assorted liberal arts fields.

The English Language, what I’m writing in, is a horrible mash-up of French, Anglo, Saxon, and a liberal sprinkling of certain germanic overtones. The fact we can communicate at all is amazing. In my native Texas, there are, or used to be, at least six, distinct regional accents. Not so much, anymore, but still, there are variation and inflections I found amusing. Language is a mixed up lot, mostly noises that all have attached meaning. The way this week unfolds? It’s as if someone randomly unattached the meaning from some of the Taurus noises. Not all, and some stuff will get mis-translated. Now that you’re aware of this, you can be prepared to slow down, and allow yourself extra time to explain what it was that really meant.

Gemini: I exchanged a few pleasant comments with a young lady, making me some afternoon coffee. I don’t recall exactly what I was saying, “nice weather, lovely day, how’s the life,” something like that. Then, I became transfixed. I was looking at her wrist, something was inscribed there. I’ve detailed my fascination with body art elsewhere. Of particular interest, and this dates way to back to the good, old days in Austin, I’m fascinated by quotes — literature — people get engraved (tattoo). I find that all kinds of weird. She said something else to me, but I didn’t hear, I was slack-jaw staring at a label on her arm. Quote. In Latin. The best one, a Gemini, he had pages of Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” as a sleeve tattoo. Like I said, old Austin. This was different, albeit, not much, I spent a few moments sounding it out, then she said something again.

Mercury goes backwards and you’re going to be like me, transfixed. Good? Bad? I got away with it. I repeated the phrase and some of the translation, and amended, “That’s SO cool.”

I’m sorry, what did you say? I was admiring your art work.

Cancer: Buy a stack of “post it” notes. Maybe get some colors, maybe get some different sizes, or maybe, just steal some office supplies. Don’t need much. Do this before Mercury get unleashed upon the unprepared. We’re going to need “post-it” notes for Cancer to make it through. It’s possible, it’s easy, nothing to fear, but as a gentle reminder? “Post-it” notes are the clue. Soon as Mercury gets started on his wayward path, no sooner does Venus stop (opposite you), then we have this. The idea, before this three-week period is over, you’ll have a desktop, screen, my favorite? A pair of “post-it” notes, held in place by rubber bands, to a phone. No way we can forget it now, huh?

Get a picture and an image? I hope so. The “post-it” notes idea is not new. But for this one, it’s like something keeps slipping your mind. Instead of repeatedly banging a hand into your head, or hitting your forehead on the desktop, or nearest available hard surface, think about the notes, scattered everywhere.

“Here, I wrote it down. Let me find the note.”

“Post-it” notes, for a secure Cancer week.

The (mighty) Leo: It’s not like I can honestly lecture about avoiding responsibility. It’s not like I can suggest that being responsible is better, not with my own life as an example. I’m sure there’s a biblical verse to cover this, but in simpler terms, it’s all about just stepping up and saying, “Yes, it was me.” I mean, only step up and say it was you if it was you, if it wasn’t you, accepting guilt or taking the blame for something you didn’t do? That’s not a good idea. Just accept what is of your own, Mighty Leo making.

You messed it up? Own it. Sign says, “You break, we cry, you buy.” Tourist market with a lot of pottery-like stuff. Ceramics and all. That sign, though, it’s perfect for this Leo energy. The other side, if you think about it? As the rewards start to happen? You’ll get those, too.

Virgo: It was the whiff of the German bakery. Must be, from here, maybe a mile or more. I’ll guess it depends on what they’re baking and when, and frankly, when the one place moves across town, I’ll miss it. I can’t be absolutely sure it’s the German bakery, but certainly smells like it.

Afternoons in January, we’ll get a warm afternoon with a strong, coastal breeze, and then, that will pick up the scent. Makes me hungry for some kind of, I don’t know, despite my name and heritage, what a German pastry is. One big bakery kind of close to me, is really more like factory, churning out healthy, ergonomically correct sandwiches and pastries for a well-known coffee brand. The aroma differs from the German bakery, and there’s a touch of hard work, the old immigrant ethic, still present. Could be my imagination, too. As a Virgo, there’s whiff of change blowing on the winds. Which one is it? Heritage? Big chain? Family business? Or is it the neighbor’s cooking? I know this is from the bakery down the street, I could smell it all afternoon, the caramelized sugars, hint of cardamon, and thick cinnamon, laid over with vanilla. Where are the winds of change blowing Virgo? I’d suggest, in case you don’t get the hint, it’s time to go fishing.

Libra: As the moon begins to get fuller and fuller, and just past the weekend, there’s this — it’s like — it’s a Monday. Monday it is. Too much piled up on the Libra plate and something will spill over. I watched a Libra neighbor try to wrestle with take-out food, a bag of delicate groceries, and something in a shopping bag, plus purse, backpack and briefcase. Got an image? Being, being the gallant and occasionally gullible Sagittarius that I am, I rushed into the help.

“No, I got it, I got it, no, it’s OK….”

I caught one bag as it slipped off a shoulder, and I grabbed a grocery bag — looks like it had a dozen eggs. We made it to her front door, and set everything down. I stop where appropriate. Well, usually. It wasn’t worth pushing any farther than the front door, but I’m an astrologer and I know my Libra. I stopped with the assistance. Know when to ask. Know when to stop. Failure to understand that message? Broken eggs, all over the parking lot. Don’t try to take on too much, unless you have a nice Sagittarius neighbor.

Scorpio: You’re stubbornly holding onto a fear, right now. Time to either confront the fear, or, at the very least, admit to yourself. Maybe, like me, you don’t want to go public with that fear. In the limelight, the Scorpio phobia will look a little silly to some people. Not to me, I understand. I also never mock, laugh at, or otherwise ridicule a Scorpio. I know better, and I have the scars to prove it.

However, there’s very public-kind of confession you can think about. There was, at one time a website dedicated to anonymous public confessions. Sort of like a 140-character space to say something and not be held accountable. The big part of this week’s Scorpio confessional? You might be held accountable if you publicly acknowledge your fear, that phobia. Worry about it? Instead, like most Scorpio secrets, keep a it secret, known only to yourself and — if there is a trusted confidant, yes, that person, too. I’d suggest though, the first part of this? Admit it to yourself that it’s an irrational phobia. We’ll deal with it later.

Sagittarius: Halloween and Valentine’s Day. I usually get the two confused. The joke, my joke, is that one is when we dress up and pretend to be someone we’re not and the other is a harvest festival. Never have figured out how they reconcile that on the other side of the planet, but that’s my take. How many times can I drag out my tired Valentine jokes? I still have the pictures from Valentine, TX, too. I don’t think I ever took a girl there, though, at least not on Valentine’s Day. Just west of Marfa, TX. Digging around, trying to locate that Valentine, TX image? Made me think about our Sagittarius plight, this “holiday” season. All the hearts and cherubs with arrows? Instead of digging up new stuff, maybe this is a time to dig through the old material, first. Renew, review, recycle. As a hint, though? It’s not to our advantage, not to our Sagittarius advantage, to recycle girlfriends. Boyfriends, whatever.

Capricorn: Database burped. Not quite what happened but close enough, from a technical point of view. The sites I run are fueled by databases that hold the content, and the website just calls up the relevant — and irreverent — material when it called for.

On tap, but not always on demand. What happened? In a routine pruning, the machine lost the last 48 hours of material. Not a huge loss, but I had to revert to back-up, that was, as I alluded to, 48 hours old. Means, in the grand scheme of things, I lost whatever tweaks I did in the last 48 hours to that one site. No big deal. I could cry, wail, moan, gnash my teeth, rent hair from head, or, I could just move on. There has to be a level of acceptance to make all of this work correctly. I know that anything I put up on the web, that material is voluble until — at least — a week has passed so there’s a hard copy back-up. Site backs itself up once a week. I get an email when it’s done. So losing 48 hours of work is no big deal. I have source files for everything that I do, so I can dig back through the digital scraps and pieces together everything from the last forty-eight hours.

Or, dear Capricorn, like me, you can just move — with no grinding on the past.