“Were’t not for laughing I should pity him.”
Henry IV, Part Uno, [II.ii.105]

With planets like these, the New Moon scurrying along in Aquarius, and so forth, laughter might just be the best medicine right now. The answer to last week’s quiz was “Loverboy.” [Loverboy 1981 “Get Lucky” song #1] Personally, I think every Sagittarius should be so addressed. The best comment, which came with a set of the lyrics, was “Rock on hillbilly!!” and “Keep on doing the Shakespeare thang, Leatherface!” From another Sag, naturally.

Aries [3. 21 – 4. 19]: Up here in the Northern Hemisphere of the planet, it’s winter time. Cold and gray. Of course, given the recent weather perturbations, maybe it isn’t exactly cold and gray all the time, and your location can have a big impact on the weather factor. But the idea, and the sense, of the week is like that. It’s not really bad, just a time when you would rather be snuggled up in front of a fireplace with a raging inferno providing a merry form of entertainment. Instead of arguing with me about the weather, or the difference between the hemispheres, perhaps finding an appropriate way to get yourself in front of that fireplace, real or imagined, would be the best route to take. Here in my trailer, a candle on the coffee table serves as an acceptable substitute, so you can run with any idea that it fosters.

Taurus [4. 19 – 5.20]: Glad tidings, news of joyous note, and work, work, work. Saturn makes a turn around, and this planet’s movement is strongly symbolic of that ethic I personally don’t understand: work. But look on the bright side: the stalled jobs, the deals that were stuck in the water like a fisherman with an electric trolling motor and a dead battery, those things that seem to have prevented any forward movement, they’re moving by the end of this week. Of course, the analogy to a trolling motor, as opposed to high powered outboard, is a critical distinction, because you don’t get off to a roaring start, just moving in a more forward direction, a little bit at a time. Perhaps a degree of stealth will help — just maybe not as much stealth as I find with a dead battery.

Gemini [5.21- 6. 21]: I think I pretty much used my best fishing line for this week, up in Taurus. The same thing that is happening to them, is happening to Gemini. Only, it’s a little different. You’ve been stalled for some months now, and suddenly, everything starts to take off. Only, unlike Taurus, you’re not moving a with a degree of stealth, and you’re not facing some strong opposition from Mars. Jupiter does his comeback scenario, and while he’s slowed you down in recent months, he’s also about to kick you into high gear. There’s another “kick” line which might be more appropriate, but for the sake of propriety, that’s best left unsaid — but you get the idea. So as the motions of Jupiter get you going, run [don’t walk] with those ideas.

Cancer [6. 22 – 7. 22]: This week gets off to a less than auspicious start for you lovely lunar types. [Cancer is governed by the Moon, hence the title.] But lacking a strong start doesn’t mean that the same time will have a weak finish, either, as the planets gather speed and momentum. The shift in perceptions that result in a shift in the relative motion of the pair of Saturn and Jupiter has a unique, and relatively positive influence, and like the opening quote for the week, you’ll be laughing at some things before too long. That’s going to be the good news, and that’s a wrap to a week which might not start as well as you like, but you’ll find that you do finish in fine fashion.

Leo [7. 23 – 8. 23]: I’ve tried being nice, I’ve tried being delicate, I’ve tried to toady up the Leo Camp, and none of this seems to get the message across. I’ll try the Leo Way, now. Change. It’s inevitable. You find yourself holding onto ideas, and even things, that are no longer of value. Look around. Friends who aren’t really friendly anymore? Got a few of those? Maybe a fishing buddy who really doesn’t pull his own weight? Get the idea? If you’re more willing to change, you’ll find that things get easier. Period. It’s like that fishing buddy, toss him overboard. Your own craft then moves faster, you take on less water, and your luck improves. But this requires some dire action on your part right now. Toss the stuff that doesn’t work.

Virgo [8. 24 – 9. 22]: I once spent the better portion of a day, wandering around a particular English village, stuck with one question on my mind, “What is a ‘sticky wicket’?” I asked everyone I encountered, me in my cowboy boots and hat, I’m sure I looked a little out of place, typical Texas tourist. I often received a bemused expression, a sly grin, or even the odd incredulous look. I tried a sporting goods store, and after perusing their fine collection of fly fishing gear, I asked again about the sticky wicket question. To no avail. Like me, you’ve got a problem this week, and like me, you’re not likely to find an answer. But if you adopt my attitude that the searching makes for a better story than the actual getting there, then you might find some relief. You can ask all you want, but I can’t guarantee answers right now. I still don’t know what a sticky wicket is. I guess that’s not cricket.

Libra [9. 23 – 10. 22]: One problem associated with being a Libra is the concept that it’s a “teamwork” sign. As such, there’s a little bump in your path along the road of destiny, especially right now. While there are any number of beneficial influences, there’s also one little problem, and some of this pathway you’re on is going to require that you “go it alone.” This doesn’t foretell certain doom for relationships, or that romance is the pits, but you’ve got a project that looks like you could really use some help on, only, there’s not anyone around who has the correct amount of expertise to really assist you. I’d offer my help, but I’m out of town this week. Besides, as more than one friend has observed, I might not be the best one to help you with your little project. Just because it’s out of my area of excellence — that never stopped me from having an opinion. You might to do well to avoid help from other, similar styled, “experts” this week.

Scorpio [10. 23 – 11. 22]: On one of the fishing boats here, at the dock, there’s an outboard motor that is just a little tricky to get started. Spit on your palms, rub them together, say a “Hail Mary,” adjust your position, hit the prime switch once — real fast — then yank the starter cord. Nothing. Yank again. Nothing again. Third time, it starts — the motor starts, not the cord. The ritual is very important. It’s an easy motor to flood with too much fuel, the oil mixture has to be just right, and the starter always requires three vigorous pulls. Miss one of the steps, and we’ll be sitting there all day, looking for oars. In your life, you’ve got a similar piece of equipment. In your haste right now, don’t forget all the steps are required to get going. Miss one step, and you’ll be stranded all week long. Pay attention to the full ritual.

Sagittarius [11. 22 – 12. 22]: Bumper sticker wisdom usually doesn’t apply to the sign of the archer, but this is a week when it’s not such a bad idea. Going into the Sagittarius Archives, I’ve discovered that there is a common phrase which does properly evoke the wisdom of the week: “Hang up and drive.” Short, sweet, and direct. There’s actually a lot more information contained in those simple words, too, and it has to do with paying attention to what is immediately in front of you, and by the same token, not carrying on at length about a topic which you might, or might not have, a real working knowledge. So if you find yourself with traffic backing up behind you at green light, I suggest you follow the advice the bumper sticker. One thing at a time, right now, just one.

Capricorn [12. 23 – 1. 18]: Comfort food takes many guises. For one friend, a quick trip through the drive-thru seems to work best. A personal favorite around here is obvious, Chicken Fried Steak. Need recommendations for a good one? I’m sure there’s a pointer or two on the web site for that. Even if a traditional Southern Cuisine item doesn’t meet with your expectations for comfort food, I still figure that it’s where you find your solace this week. A couple of friends, a little time out from your frantic pace, a plate laden to the brim with good stuff, maybe drowning in cream gravy, you get the picture. So while the concept of cuisines varies, I still think there’s a degree of comfort in this week, and you have to admit, that’s much better than having a “chicken fried week.” That comes later, but for now, enjoy the good times.

Aquarius [1. 19 – 2. 18]: I’m with you on this one, this idea that there are a few lessons which need to be learned — I don’t much like it, and I know you think you already have learned this one. Regrettably, there’s still a little learning process occurring right now. You can fight with it all you want, but the end result is pretty much the same, you still have to go through the motions. Perhaps it is easier to beg forgiveness, than seek permission, but in a week like this, what with Mars stirring up a weird concoction of things to be learned, I’d suggest that you buckle down. Get started shoveling. There is no time like the present to get this accomplished. Sure, sounds good, but sometimes these “lessons” take the form of chores that we would both rather put off to a later date. That, my fine Aquarius friend, putting things off, that’s not a good idea.

Pisces [2. 19 – 3. 20]: If you look around, you’ll notice that most of your friends and acquaintances are lacking a subtle quality — tact. There seems to be a short supply of diplomacy, grace, and the usual oil which keeps the wheels turning. As I’ve discovered the hard way, an outboard motor requires a mixture of oil to keep the piston chugging up and down. Right now, and thanks to Venus, you’ve got the right mix of oil and gasoline to keep the motor running. Naturally, though, no one else around you seems to share this quality. Use your Venus grease as much as possible to help keep folks happy. You have the unique ability to act like preventive medicine at this point, and no one can do a better job than your fine, Pisces self.

(c) Kramer Wetzel, 2000, 2001

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

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