For the Week of: 7/3-9/2003
“[I am] subject to the breath of every fool!”
Shakespeare’s Henry V [IV.i.240]
July 4th, a national holiday, and extra-special around here….
Cancer: There’s a trailer park, right next door to Shady Acres. They have a new “security” guy. He’s not really much more than an underpaid maintenance guy, groundskeeper, and gofer fellow. He gets to drive the old truck, and he hauls stuff, moves things around, and when someone moves out of the rentals, he gets a little extra cash cleaning and making a trailer ready for the next resident. That little extra cash is useful, I suppose. Until I get know the guy, though, like the first time he saw me cutting through the back gate to “his” property, I got chased off.
Consider this: in the middle of the summer, I rarely wear much more than shorts. Maybe some sunglasses, too. I was hassling with something on the phone, and I cut through their back gate, walking up the dusty back road behind the trailers. He backed down in his truck, waving me off. “No trespassing” sign is there, yes, and strictly speaking I was breaking the rule.
I was face to face with a decision, seeing as how this was a new guy. I could argue with him, or, I could just do his biding. I could stridently point out that I was a close neighbor, and I wasn’t really trespassing, or I could just take the long way around. The long way is not always the most attractive, but it did give me a chance to finish up that phone call. And I made a mental note to find out what kind of beer the guy likes so the next time, I can take the shortcut. I’m sure me and that guy will get along just fine. But like Cancer, a little social lubricant will go a long way in making the next encounter a lot more friendly. You can argue, but arguing doesn’t always work best, especially with Saturn in your sign.
Leo: So I was in Las Vegas on a business trip. Yes, it really was business, I promise. I got in a little early, so I might be able to play some. As I was riding the elevator up to the hotel room, after I checked in, an attractive female looked at the floor number I’d punched [29], then suggested that a room like must have a good view. I looked at her, being an honest Sagittarius that I am, and answered, “I don’t know. Haven’t seen it yet.” She got off on the 6th floor with a slightly disgusted look on her face. I went up to the room, located the phone jack for net access, and opened up the curtains, looking out over the Las Vegas strip. Then it dawned on me — that girl in the elevator was trying to pick me up. Worse: I missed it completely.
So the Sun’s in Cancer, and Jupiter is in Leo. There’s a good chance that you get a little bit of luck like what happened to me. All I can suggest to better Leo friends? Don’t do what I did; don’t miss your opportunity. But as long as that Sun shines in Cancer instead of Leo? There’s a good chance that you will. Hey, enjoy the view from the room, the lights aren’t too bad, even you’re like me, and all alone….
Virgo: This is so strange. I was fishing the other day, and I had just opened up a new lure, a fresh one, ready to catch some big, bad-boy fish. These days, a lure usually comes with an enclosed bit of marketing material, usually a folded up flyer with pictures of other lures, fishing tips, or, in this one case, an exploded diagram on how to tie a knot that would work with this lure tied onto monofilament line.
So much for the instructions, unless this is some kind of plan I’m not aware of. I gave their pictured-knot a spin, tied the lure on, sailed it behind the boat as we worked our way up a creek, and I did get a hit. Some kind of a really big-boy bad bass grabbed a mouthful of that lure and took off running. The line snapped, right at that knot, almost immediately. There’s a five dollar lure, either at the bottom of the lake, or stuck in some fish’s mouth now.
The point is simple, too, sometimes an expert will give you some good advice that goes against what your Virgo senses tell you will work. You might want to think through that expert advice. My way of attaching a lure to the fishing line might not be as pretty, nor, it might not be an approved knot, but it works. The line doesn’t break, and I get to reel the fish in for the subsequent photo-op. If I’d followed my instincts instead of the instructions, I’d be a happy person. Of course, when a fish is so big it breaks the line, that leaves me open for all kinds of good stories, but coming from a seasoned fishing professional, you know some of those tales might not all be true. Use your own knots. Or whatever it is that your Virgo self uses to tie stuff together.
Libra: Little things in your life are good. Big things in your life might be more problematic. Me? I’d concentrate on the little things. It’s like this: I was fishing with a friend, not a professional fishing trip, just having some summer fun. He was getting upset because I kept catching all these little fishes. Not big, bad bass, just little guys. I even lucked out and caught a small perch. Look: none, and I mean, none of those fish had any kind of bragging rights. They were small. Almost tiny by my standards.
We were using much different bait, too, as my buddy was using his big “pig” lure [real bacon flavor]. I was using a small jig, just having a grand time. I caught upwards of a dozen or more fish, plus that one perch. He caught two, well, one actually. He had one pretty big feller throw the hook just before he got the fish landed, and I’ll tell you — honestly — it was a big fish. More than five pounds, I’m sure, as I saw her thrashing away in the water before she got away.
The other fish? His single fish that he got a picture of? Yes, it was bigger than any two of the fish that I caught. Here’s the deal: I had a lot more fun, and I caught a lot more fish, although, none of my little fellers were worth a picture, much less any kind of a note. Big problems versus little problems, what’ll it be, Libra?
Scorpio: More Scorpio hate mail. I don’t get it. Well, I mean, I get the mail, but I don’t get why I’m the target of the Scorpio derision. What did I do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just happen to have earned a spot on the “Scorpio target list” and that gets me a lot of fan mail. As in “fan the flames” mail, not the other kind. The way I spun the planets around and looked at the Scorpio chart, though, I saw Mars in Pisces, Sun, Saturn in Cancer, you know, all water signs, all good for Scorpio.
It’s like my Scorpio contingent [from the mail bag, I’d be loathe to call them “friends” at this moment] has let loose with a barrage of baggage. Or a litany of all my previous wrongs, just to let me know what’s up. Or how wrong I am.
But look: it’s all supposed to be good. True, there’s some grunt work involved. One doesn’t just show up for a fishing trip without some thoughtful preparation. Take the time to do a little homework. Take the time to use that vaunted Scorpio research skill to dig up some dirt. Then you can unload on me. But do a little digging first. Do some preparation. After I get in from fishing, there’s a soothing action, a task I like to perform alone, maybe something like that would help you. I spend a little time oiling up the fishing reels — in preparation for the next trip. Usually happens on Saturday or Sunday afternoon, under the shade tree in front of the trailer. Makes it a lot easier — next time.
Sagittarius: I am not one with a usually short fuse. I don’t let my temper get in the way, mostly. However, like most of my Sagittarius brethren [and sisteren, too], someone is bound and determined to really irritate us in the next couple of days. Just the way it goes. Instead of letting this get to our nice, easy-going Sagittarius selves, though, a little tact and diplomacy goes a long way. Regrettably, we’re not usually known for that tact and diplomacy. At least, we’re not known for our tact. Who is better at saying the most perfect word, the most perfect expression at exactly the wrong time? That would be us. Who else can insert the right word in the wrong ear better than us? No one.
What’s the point of this? Try and tame it down some. Maybe curtail some of the comments for the duration. Maybe keep it to ourselves. Maybe just talk to other Sagittarius folks instead of worrying about the other signs. Since those other signs seem determined to get under our Sagittarius skin, and cause multiple problems, maybe the best thing to do is beat a hasty retreat. If you’re not conversing with another Sagittarius, sharing our woes as we are sorely misunderstood over the coming week, then you might want to think about not saying anything at all. Saves on wear and tear.
Capricorn: I ran into one of my friends who’s a local radio personality. She’s recently switched stations — again — and the new station had an “oldies” format. She expounded upon theory that the current “oldies” format is best when it’s music that’s 20 years old. The 30+ year old stuff, that’s now called “classic.” I wonder if that makes me a classic?
The next thing to come along in your world, a theme for the next couple of years deals with this nebulous area between “oldies” and “classics,” although, I tend to regard a lot of your challenges as really starting about 14 years ago. The astute observer will note that 14 years corresponds to one-half of a Saturn cycle. Saturn is an important influence in the Life of Capricorn. Old Mr. Saturn gets a lot attention during the next couple of days because of an odd angle between him and some other stuff.
It sort of triggered this kind of Saturn reaction from you. Something from the past is back, and it would do you well to render a decision. Think about the problem, first, the situation, whatever the deal is. Give it some thoughtful consideration before you answer a definite “yes” or “no.” Sometimes, just a good “maybe” is a better answer.
Aquarius: I was reading some computer magazine the other day, and there was a cute way of solving problems, it had to do with a theory that, simply put, stated every problem could be divided into discrete 24 – 12 ounce solutions. So you take your big problem, and start putting it into smaller, easily consumed containers. Sounds like a case of Lone Star, or a case of Diet Dr. Pepper.
I scoffed at the idea, at first, as I couldn’t imagine sitting there, working on a problem, and consuming that much of any one beverage in a single sitting. Just couldn’t see that happening. But as an idea, it works pretty well. One problem, no easy or apparent solution, and what to do? Grab the first bottled beverage you have at hand, and tackle one, minor portion of the problem. As you work you’re way through the next couple of days, maybe having to work some this weekend, you’ll find that it all breaks down into smaller, easy-to-consume solutions.
Pisces: I was listening to some Country Music — I realize that comes as a surprise to some. “I’m a lover of the other side of the hill” was the song’s tag line. I looked at your chart, and that song just fit. See, it’s a story about toting a horse trailer, and the downhill side of the mountain is a lot easier than the uphill portion. Only makes good sense, right?
Okay, let’s look at your chart, see: Mars. You can argue with him, or you can slide down the other side of the hill. You can make this hard, like a cowboy pulling a horse trailer up one side of a mountain, or you can make this easy for your Pisces self, coasting, careening, and bouncing along at a good rate, down the other side of that hill. You’re the Pisces, these hills are only as big as you want them to be. You have some control over what’s going on, and you have a chance to make it all easy, if you want to coast with Mr. Mars.
Aries: Duck. It’s that simple. I’ve used it before, and I’ll use it again, a nice line from a Grateful Dead song, “Ain’t no luck, I learned to duck.” [U.S. Blues] I can’t promise anything with good luck, other than wish you some. But I can help if you’ll try doing something rather uncharacteristic of your Aries self. It’s simple, just duck.
Avoid uncertain unpleasantness by just getting out of the way. Your normal, wonderful — I might add — Aries straightforward way of dealing with some situation that’s cropping up around you? That doesn’t work as well as you would like to. In other words, just sort of skip over the problem. Or go the other way. Austin has been home to this big musical festival in the springtime.
Used to coincide with Spring Break. Let’s look at this: the Gulf coast isn’t a good destination, Austin’s full of out-of-town visitors, and us locals, we don’t have a chance. Best thing to do? I started this trick a few years ago. When the festival and conference people arrive? I leave. Like that one song, like my best Aries survival advice, “Ain’t no luck, I learned to duck.” Consider ducking out for a little while.
Taurus: The term “smoke and mirrors” refers back to time when it was easy to fool a lot of people with some sleight of hand. Tricks that, like most magic, involved smoke and mirrors to redirect the eyes of the audience. With computer-modified graphics, though, the terms has gotten to be more metaphorical than real.
There’s the “new cynicism” I keep bumping into, as well. I had an actual picture of me with a rather large [7 real pounds, not modified or exaggerated] bass — but everyone was just sure that I did this with a graphic program. Not that fishermen are known for their ability to absolutely tell the truth every time. Stick to your story. Stick to telling your version of the truth. Stick to the tale you want to tell. Maintain your innocence and make sure it’s the whole truth. Jupiter is leaning on you a little, and then there’s the way the Moon slides all over as the weekend passes by. No need to tell any fish tales when the absolute truth is actually a little stranger than any fiction.
Gemini: Loquacious charm is a hard critter to explain. You’ve got it by the boatload, though. The deal is, how-so-ever, that deal? How do you use this loquacious charm? Be a minimalist. Try doing this in a simple manner. Pare away at the words until you get to the essence of the situation.
If you’re going to try to communicate with me during the next couple of days, especially in an e-mail, about the only response I’ll accept from a Gemini must come in the form of Haiku. English language Haiku. This is important. Even if you’re not planning on sending me a note, but let’s say, you’ve got to pitch a project, deal, sale a plan to someone? Map out your presentation in haiku. I know this is weird. Most folks don’t get it. But you’re not most folks, you’re a Gemini. Haiku is great because its inherent form is so limited, just so many syllables per line, that really limits some of your self-expression. That’s the idea. That’s the goal. My suggestion? Use haiku, or a similar form, for the next couple of days. It’s worth a try. Such limits to your language might help tame and tone that loquacious charm you’ve got.
