Then one of my Capricorn friends swings by on her bicycle, “Dude, c’mon, let’s go!” Sure, it’s a nice day, almost perfect except for painful e-mail, and away I go. We started our morning meander by grabbing an early lunch at Threadgill’s, more because it was close, and they do have rockin’ vegetables. Even at the early hour, a few things happened, my Cap friend was nudging me, “check this one out, he’s dressed just like you will be when you’re his age: sport sandals, Hawaiian shirt and cowboy hat. Dude.” Then I had a chance to shake hands with one of Bob Wills former drummers, a walking piece of musical history, “I played with them in the 40s,” he said. The path then lead to Ruta Maya, and I finally got this girl to try an Espresso shake made with Amy’s Ice Cream. Thick, creamy, served up in a pint sized glass, a truly amazing beverage that works wonders on mind, body and soul. We wandered almost aimlessly through some of the local attractions, and somehow, managed to find ourselves at an Amy’s, after an arduous trip. Poor girl was beat by the time the sun was getting ready to set, but our attitudes are much improved. And I still have to go fishing this week.
One of my Virgo friends beeped me and I spent an hour talking on the phone while overseeing the scopes going up for the week. No matter how hard I try, no matter how many copy editors get to look at this stuff, invariably one or two typographical mistakes make it through and have to be corrected at the “Eleventh Hour” (literally).
I did get one e-mail that greatly disturbed me. I’m a compassionate guy. I listen, I read all the stuff that pours in, on an average of 100 messages a day, and I try to respond to every note. All I could think about last night as I drifted off to sleep was trying to properly evoke the feeling of that weird movie, “Trainspotting,” and its opening and closing lines about “Choose life…” [and a vituperative rant]:
“Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?” (Jeremiah, 13:23, KJV)
I’ve been a “reader” as the primary source of my income for about seven years now. For several years, I worked for a variety of 900 phone lines, and the one type of question that I got which always broke my heart was, “When is my boyfriend going to leave his wife for me?” Place the astrology aside for a moment. Put the tarot cards away. Fold up the psychic TV. Why would this boyfriend want to leave his wife? It’s cheaper to keep her. And if he did leave his wife, do you really want a mate with a predisposition towards infidelity? Let’s say he does leave his wife, and marries you. What’s going to keep him from leaving you for his next girlfriend? It’s a behavior pattern that is, often as not, going to be repeated. To exacerbate this type of situation, I’ve had a chance to hear this story from all three sides, the outside lover, the unfaithful spouse, and the spurned mate. Ain’t none of it pretty. If some one is previously engaged, I don’t care how strong the attraction is, don’t go there. And lest you think I’m speaking from a “holier than thou” position — I know. I’ve been there. Unless it’s an agreed upon variation, then cheating is cheating. See Jeremiah’s take on that.
