Horoscopes for 7.20.2017

    “How green you are and fresh in this old world!”
    Cardinal Pandulph in
    Shakespeare’s King John (3.4.145)

Officially, the Sun moves into Leo July 22, 2017 at 10:15 AM.

Horoscopes for 7.20.2017

The Leo:

The Leo

The Leo

It’s called a “Train wreck,” because that’s kind of how this feels. Mars and the Sun are near perfectly aligned for a few days. The problem I have is that a number of people call this “bad,” and while it might not be great, as this shifts into Leo, the majestic, most royal sign? There’s a sense of grandiose, maybe just broad and sweeping gestures that affect a “royal persona,” as befits The Leo.

A Leo sidled up to me, “Can I talk to you?” Inquiring about a professional consultation. I nodded “Yes,” turned my back and sat down. “What’s your birthday?” A very forward Leo birthday came back. I slid out of my chair and onto the ground, on my knees.

The Leo demurred, “You don’t need to do that.” Smile. Oh, but I do. I know my Leo, love me my Leo. A simple genuflection like that? Goes a long way to making this a better situation. Herein is our weekly problem, remember Mars? Me? I immediately pay homage to The Leo. My bet is that I’m the first, maybe the only one, to do so this week. With Mars where he is, in the Leo chart? If you don’t run into me, you have to give the rest of folks a chance to catch up and realize that a simple act of kindness — towards The Leo — that simple act will make all of this much smoother, you know, Mars and all. If it’s not me? If they don’t acknowledge your regal presence right away? Wait for it. Try to do so without too much toe-tapping and loud Leo eye–rolling.



The Virgin

In the early days, even before there was You Tube, Snap Chat, and so forth? There was a series of Life Hack videos that were a precursor to all of what’s on now. I recall one, in particular as this recycled recently, it was about how to fold a shirt. Like, how to fold a T-Shirt, so the garment would not appear wrinkled. One Virgo suggested I was always like an “Unmade bed,” to her. So the quick “Life Hack” video showed how to fold a T-shirt in three simple steps. I’ve added a fourth a step. Virgo: Pay Attention. With my idea? Might not need the other three steps.

The fourth step? Toss that folded shirt into the closet. I have a place for my “dress” T-Shirts, each one on a hanger. Concert and commemorative shirts? Yes, those. The rest? They come out of the dryer and into a heap in the corner of the closet. Just easier. Need a clean shirt? Grab one from the pile.

While not wrinkle-free, my method works quite well for T-shirts. Shorts, too, summer wear, and most of the clothing I wear. It’s either on a hanger or in pile. Simple. Much more efficient than wasting the first three or four steps folding, then stacking, am I right?

Watch how I do this, I pull dry T-shirts from the laundry, and I toss them, unceremoniously, into a corner of a shelf. Clean shirts. All in one place. Perfect Virgo life hack. Saves you all the trouble of fording that stuff up.



The Scales

All I could think about is that I’m getting old. As I spun around the Libra chart, looking for activity, looking for things to do, and answers to pressing Libra questions? I thought about, “Wow, I’m getting old.” Hot summer’s afternoon. The world is at our feet. What do we want? I wanted to go see a movie. Hide in a cold, dark theater, escape the summer heat, and get swept away in a the latest story from a formula-driven epic moving picture show. In the dark theater, with its AC set to “Freeze your butt off.”

There are changes brewing on the Libra horizon. First off, if you’re going to follow my lead — exactly? Take a sweater or long–sleeve shirt into the theater with you. You’ll thank me for that one. Second, careful with the escape. When I’m in a theater, I turn my phone off, so there’s no internet, no voice mail, no text messages, none of that. Escape for — maybe — two hours. Emerge on the far side, blinking and suddenly warming up in the summer sun? Yes, the time when we feel alive again. Good movie, no?

The trick is the escape lasts, usually no more than two hours. It’s my idea of summer fun that made me feel “old.” Used to be it was a water park, beaches, boats, maybe fishing. Now? Just the cool, dark theater.

Changes are up and coming, and despite the oppressive summer heat? Take a sweater, or, in my case, I take a long–sleeve shirt, pull over my T-shirt. See how easy this can be? No need to fight it.




The best leaders are also good followers. The ability to follow places one in the perfect position to do some timely back-stabbing.

With advice like that? How can any Scorpio say I don’t like them?

Be a good follower. Makes you less of target. Then, when presented with a suitable target for a Scorpio?

I’m sure you know what to do.

This week’s weird energy? Be a good follower, my little Scorpio friend. Be a good follower.




There’s a moral code some of us live by. In literature, more in popular fiction, but in movies, especially, an almost stock character is the loner who lives by a strict moral compass, always does the right thing. Doesn’t always follow the letter of the law, but in the grand scheme, always does what appears to be morally correct. “Internal compass” was how it was explained to me. This figures in, that term, “internal compass,” or really, an “internal moral compass?” This figures in with the age-old idea that most of us Sagittarius types can readily identify with the loner with a strict moral code. We might not always stick to the letter of the law, I do, anymore, but that’s not the question, is it? This is about what is morally, absolutely correct. This isn’t about nitpick lawyer details, where the finer points process and procedure are in question, it’s about the big picture, and we’re — Sagittarius — good at that. Here’s the tricky point, with me, all about the spirit of the law and paying strict attention to making sure our answers and actions are morally, ethically correct? Make sure, it’s that pesky Mars conjunct the Sun energy, make sure that we are correct in the letter of the law, too. The handsome hero, the lone stranger, who does so well sticking to his own code? Yes, that works in fiction. In the real world? Let’s also stick — our Sagittarius selves — to the letter as well as the spirit of the rules.



The Sea Goat

Because I book all my clients myself? Just easier that way, but because I do it myself? I keep a closer watch on who shows — or doesn’t show. I had a client, the posted rules are “Paid in advance, or at time the services are rendered, and cancellations are still liable for the full amount.” Or something like that. I forget. The threat is that cancelling on me, like, less than 24 hours before the appointed time? I’m still owed for my time. Practically, I really don’t enforce that too often. Then, I was working at a Big Expo, and I had a client who’s made — and broken — three or four appointments, the usual excuses, “Boss called, kids called, overslept,” etc. Because most of that kind of traffic is walk-up customers, didn’t bother me, and I had no trouble filling the available times slots with other customers. However, the next time that client e-mailed me for a reserved time? After being burned three times? I suggest that the client just show up, and deal with the waiting list. I’m pretty relaxed about a lot of this. I’ve been doing this for many years. What I’ve learned, some folks are just not reliable about keeping appointments with astrologers for consultations. I have enough material to keep me really busy, so it’s no loss, for me. However, that one client, I had to patiently spend a certain amount of time explaining, since I’m not important enough to keep an appointment with? I return the energy — goes around, comes around. “But I need to see you now!”

Capricorn: Burned, not once, not twice, but at least three times? I won’t be totally dismissive, neither should you, but I also won’t make any promises.

“Yeah, show up and I’ll see where I am with the waiting list.”

Insert Capricorn shrug.



Water Bearer

Love me my Aquarius friends, but “dressing up,” and the recent spate of fashion trends? Sort of escapes the typical Aquarius. Like there is anything “typical” about an Aquarius, huh. Anyway, consider an eye towards fashion Or a purchase, or just looking for, some kind of clothing that is summer acceptable, comfortable, and well–within the bounds of whatever is supposedly fashionable.

For many years, I’ve stuck with two standards. Super easy for me. Hawaiian print shirts, sandals, and shorts, as my mainstay. So in my example, I’d look for a new, cheap, Hawaiian shirt. I found one, the other day, less than ten bucks, light color, mostly cotton, and I’m wearing it now. That’s a perfect example for Aquarius.

My other version is the limited winter wear, essentially black jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt, sometimes covered with a sport coat, if I need to look formal. So this “Aquarius looking at your appearance” time? Like this next week, maybe seven days or so? Either one of my options works, but I suggest working within the bounds of rather staid and conservative taste selections. My wild shirts are the only spot of bright color in the otherwise totally dark wardrobe. One, or another, look at one or another, and remember, this is a nod towards comfort as much as it’s a nod towards fashion.

Next week? Mercury moves into Virgo. That’s the change, and that’s why we’re looking at fashion items this week.



The Fishes

I was looking up some Shakespeare crap. Not like I don’t have metric shit-ton of Shakespeare material rolling through my brain. I do try and keep my reference shelf mercifully devoid of too much Shakespeare stuff, just because. I tend to get bit obsessive at times, as Shakespeare’s body of work is an almost endless source of academic play, for me. What I happened across was a version of an early play, one of the plays that shows the brilliance that is about to be, and one of his more mature plays, that shows the brilliance as it is, with wordplay, double entendre, patient observations about humanity, and, most of all? Shakespeare’s gorgeous poetry. The meter and verse. What this has to do with Pisces?

In a Wikipedia entry, the two passages from different plays were posted, back-to-back. Sure, there were some similarities, but the point being made was stretching it a bit. With the planets in their positions? There’s an urge to look at two items, side-by-side, and go, “Look? See the similarities?”

If this is a Pisces–to–Pisces communication, sure, they will understand and see the similarities, However, if this is with any other sign? We might not get it. What’s blindingly obvious to Pisces at this time? Might not be that clear to the rest of us. Just letting you know, be prepared for a long, and detailed explanation. Or, we just look at you and go, “Huh?”



The Ram

I have somewhat strange musical tastes. Like me some Texas Twangers, the local version of country/rock/folk, whatever we’re calling it this week. Then, I like some classical, as well. So the trivia question popped up, how was the length of an “album” determined, how much time for music should be on a long-play record, back when those things were vinyl? 33 and third? The long-lost — much lamented by me — records from the days of yore? The original length of how long a record should be was the length of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, running 75 minutes. That was the measure by which music is, or was, still is, measured.

Moving forward, passed 8-track and cassette, towards digital, but we’re not there yet, the next format that was so influenced by Beethoven’s 9th Symphony? The no-longer ubiquitous CD. Compact Disc.

My command of musical trivia is notorious and questionable, at best. However, this is information that’s freely available, fact check me if you like.

There’s a sense of change Aries. However, there’s a sense that some things never change. Careful. Patterns set in place, with some of this extra Aries stress? Some of the patterns might have far–ranging effects, like the length of a piece of musical media, how that hasn’t changed.

Remix Regeneration.



The Bull

Some years ago, I tried to update a tired and familiar expression. I’m trotting this one out for Taurus — again.

“Ain’t my rodeo.
Ain’t my bull to ride.”

That simple, my fine Taurus friend. You can grab the graphic off the website someplace, as I’ve set that loose in the dark and undefined spaces of the networks. Still, as an expression, and what with free-floating anxiety just looking for a place to latch on, a place to hunker down and grow? Yeah, my friendly Bull needs none of that.

Let me remind you, rodeo, Bull Riding, it’s an event where the animal is bigger than most hybrid cars, weighs more, and probably has less brain power that most new cars. The bull’s made very uncomfortable, then jolted with electricity, and you’re supposed to hold on for 8 seconds before getting unceremoniously dumped in the dust. Dirt, dust, sawdust, and probably manure of various sorts.

That can be you. Or, you can listen to what I’m saying.

“Ain’t my rodeo.
Ain’t my bull to ride.”

Distinguish between what is a Taurus problem and what’s not a Taurus problem.

“Ain’t my rodeo.
Ain’t my bull to ride.”




The Twins

I’ll be the first to admit, I used to be much better at this. Still, within the constraints of what we have to work with in Gemini, there are options and multiple routes to lead to Gemini success. At one time, in the past, I was artful and eloquent with an ability to rant about a particular product or service. My rhetoric and honeyed words flowed like wine. I would be praising on one side and then sliding a knife in the back on the other side. Part is practice, part is caring, part is from trying to be too nice all the damn time.

The problem — the very Gemini problem? Being nice while being critical. Being nice while pointing out flaws in logic, flaws in execution, flaws in preparation, inherent structural issues with whatever it is that is catching this Gemini ire. Start out with praise, point out the good features, address what doesn’t work for Gemini, then close with a summation of good points, that could be further enhanced by addressing the problem area, hitherto referenced, and previously alluded to, therein.

Be nice. I can’t do this anymore, but you can. A well–crafted Gemini rant, a sound complaint packaged as a compliment. Get the idea? I didn’t say don’t point out their mistakes, just do it in a tactful manner.


The Crab - the Moonchild

The Crab

Quick, philosophical question. What defines who we are? Is this strictly external, like my house, my address, where I live, with whom I associate? Does that define me? Or is there another kind of touchstone — is it the computer I drive, or kind of car I sit in, the place where I work, or what my business card says?

    Always do have fun with the business card. For years, I had nothing but a Latin quote, an expression that can’t be translated with software. Human scholars can figure it out, though. Is that a single, defining moment for me?

However, the original question was about what defines us. The essence of that question in the wake of current events, where we are, and more important, where Cancer is at this moment, as we close out the Moon Child birthdays, and move forward into yet another year.

What defines us?



About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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