“Hey, does this web page make my butt look fat?”
One of my neighbors in Shady Acres came by for reading. “Kramer? You’re an astrologer? Could I get a consultation?”
I do like me my Virgo guys. So even-keeled. So equitable. Easy to get along with.
Moon was in Capricorn.
Earth flavor.
Next up? Taurus.
Next? Two Capricorn’s. With issues. My fine Cap friends always have issues.
Finally rounded the day out with a Virgo.
All dirt. All good. All day.
Works for me.
Okay, so it’s not always good. Mars, he’s retrograde, remember? Closest he’s been in years, backwards in Pisces. Up yonder, saw him when I was wandering home at night. In the east.
I’d made a last ditch call because it seemed like the thing to do, at a weird hour, and there I was, by the edge of the river, looking out over the serene scene, talking animatedly into the cell phone, ranting about Mars going backwards.
A little car pulls up and recognize the driver, a local artist, and he looks at me, sees the phone, and then tells me to quit talking to myself.
See: it’s like this: as long as Mars is backwards, it’s time for review and revision. I’m taking one last spin through the manuscript, looking for typos, grammatical problems, loose ends and whatever else might be wrong. Widows and orphans. Makes me nuts. I’ve corrected the term “food stuffs” three times. Should read “foodstuffs.” Three times. Down to just one master document.
Making me crazy. Or crazier than before.
