“For slander lives upon succession,
for ever housed where ever it gets possession.”
Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors [III.i.105]
Aries: So I saw the garden hose bulge and twist, meant that my beautiful neighbor was in the shower, and I waited about a minute and half. I knocked on her trailer’s door, and said I was there to help with that problem she was having. I was expecting that she was already dripping wet, covered in suds, and hopefully she wouldn’t have enough time to grab a towel to cover herself. No luck. She wasn’t even in the shower yet. Not even disrobed. Foiled again. My careful observation and delicate timing just didn’t work out the way I was planning. Maybe next time? Hope so. My prurient interest in my neighbor might seem a little unrealistic, but it’s not without merit. It’s just that the implementation stage of the arranged encounter didn’t wind up working out the way I was hoping it would. I might have been a little hasty. Let this serve as a warning for your Aries self, when you get a little too hurried, this is what can result: nothing. Not even a peek.
Taurus: A local Austin celebrity is a homeless, cross-dressing guy named Leslie. The other afternoon, I was standing at a bus stop with him, and we got to talking. He’s partially coherent, then he goes off on a tangent, that, to some, might seem slightly “other worldly.” Consider that I was standing at a street corner, talking to a guy with a flaming red beard and shoulder-length red locks, not a natural color, and that he was wearing a purple skirt and gold lame jacket, faux diamond earrings and so forth. Carrying a purse. He does, indeed, offer up a valid point or two about the electoral process, but the part about the mind control I’m less sure of. While his banter and ranting might change some, Leslie is really kind of a decent human being, although, I’m not sure I subscribe wholeheartedly to his version of reality. Not that it matters. I took time to listen to guy. About halfway through the conversation, I whipped out pen and paper to take notes. After I stepped up onto the public transportation that headed in my direction, some person who observed the whole thing questioned me talking to Leslie, like, “he’s nut case, isn’t he?” Not really. Leslie’s been backstage at every event I’ve ever had backstage access to. He’s a celebrity. He might live out where the buses don’t run very often, but he’s a good soul and has a kind heart. Besides, you can never tell when listening to him might just yield some nugget of cosmic information that’s really important. I’m not suggesting that you go out and talk to any random homeless person, expecting great news, but a careful ear to the ground might just unlock some problem you’ve had as of late.
Gemini: Changes occur in the smallest fraction of time. Living in Texas requires one to be ready to flip as need be, without the slightest provocation. One minute, it’s bitterly cold. The very next afternoon, I’m rushing off to the hardware store to find that one size of air filter that the trailer’s Air Conditioning unit requires. Hint: it’s an odd size. When I first moved into Shady Acres, I found a standard-sized AC filter in the AC. That filter, left by a previous tenant, was just right, for a unit twice this big. The fiberglass pad had been folded neatly in two, and while I’m sure that provided twice the filtering surface, I’m also pretty sure it’s not the way it was designed to work. Notice how easy it to get sidetracked? This was really about air conditioning versus bitter cold. One day is cold, the next day, it looks like the AC is necessary because it’s getting so warm out. Be prepared. You can’t second guess what’s coming up. It will be different. Like having to run the AC and the heater, all in the same day.
Cancer: My trailer’s little hot water heater ran out of hot water while I was in the shower. Not hugely inconvenient, I mean, I must’ve been in there for hours. Or 20 minutes, at least. But that got me to thinking that it’s really such a shame that Shady Acres isn’t like a real travel court from the old days, you know, like a KOA that has a shower facilities attached to the campground. I just figure it would be a lot easier to wrap a towel around myself, and head on over to the community showers to get clean. Me, in the middle of spring day, wandering around with only a threadbare towel to cover my nether regions. When I was traveling a lot more, and camping out, I got to where I actually enjoyed some of the better–usually State Parks–communal showers. Wandering in alone, enough shower space for six or more folks, and a limitless supply of hot water.
So much for pleasant idylls. Instead, I’m limited by the small heater in a travel trailer in South Austin’s Shady Acres. You’re facing certain limits, too. Not like this is a big deal, but sometimes, it’s jus easier to adjust to the fact that Shady Acres isn’t like, a real travel court, and as such, it offers no amenities. Although, I have been thinking about using the showers at Barton Springs, too, wonder if that would work? Just seems like a long hike to get clean.
Work with your limitations for the time being. Besides, the idea of your Cancer self being exposed to everyone where you live, is that really such a good idea? Imagine what would happen if my towel slipped off?
Leo: The package delivery guy showed up the other morning. “If it had been anyone else, I’d of waited, but I saw the destination was Shady Acres, saw your trailer’s number on it, and I thought, ‘what the heck….'”
The deal is, I was planning on being far away by the time the usual afternoon delivery schedule was going to happen, so I called up the service, begged, pleaded, wheedled and cajoled, and I acted as sincere as possible. It was just a little more memory for the computer, not like it was really a big deal. Just something to make my life a little easier when I work.
Point is, I was nice with the poor telephone rep. Then, well, I actually pretty much like the regular driver as he’s a Sagittarius, like me, and he’s got a great attitude, unlike me. I had to force myself to be nice in order to get what I wanted, i.e., that delivery before noon. But look: my nice efforts paid off. He rolled through Shady Acres long before his usual time. Just for me. I also figure that the call I made the night before, to the customer service line, I’m sure that helped, too. Again, I was solicitous of the health and welfare of the rep, that disembodied voice on the phone.
In this situation, I had every right to shout, rant, rave, and scream. I was unfailingly polite instead, although it went against my better nature. But look what that effort on part yielded: 8 AM delivery time, ahead of the rest of the packages on board that truck. Try it, my Leo friend, you’ll be surprised what a Sagittarius can delvier.
Virgo: Ever do laundry in a trailer park’s Laundromat? No? Then you really don’t know what you’re missing. Usually, say, on a Tuesday night, you’ll find that everyone has the same idea. Nothing’s worse than showing up with six or seven loads of dirty clothes, just about the entire capacity of all the machines, and running into someone who has the same idea. Could spoil a night’s activity. Then again, it could also be a chance to catch up on gossip, who’s doing what to whom in the old homestead. Who’s out having adventures, who is dating whom [or sometimes who is dating what]. Pop a couple of the quarters in the coke machine and have something refreshing while waiting on the neighbor’s load to hurry up and finish, almost on spin cycle now. All of this light banter is leading someplace.
My Virgo self was doing laundry, on a Tuesday night. Thinking, “glad I’ve got a handful of quarters, don’t have much else….” When I finally got around to pulling the dried clothes out, three one-dollar bills landed at my feet. Loose bills, left in the pocket of something I was wearing, and you know? That three bucks will buy lunch tomorrow, at least, it’ll get me a couple of breakfast tacos. Might only be a couple of bucks, but it does mean that laundry was actually a “positive cash flow” event. Or break even, anyway.
Libra: March weather in Texas is fickle, at best. During SXSW, it’s typically rainy and cloudy in the morning, usually clearing off in the afternoon. Makes picking clothing rather difficult. As I would much rather be in shorts, but the thought of sitting a workshop with its icy blast of air conditioning chilling me, I tend to opt for more rather than less. Usually, more rather less is a good idea.
There’s a problem, though. I noticed it as I was running to catch a bus. When I’m wearing jeans, cowboy boots are pretty much the only footwear I’ll put on my feet. Boots look great. Custom, handmade, fine leather, exotic skins with tooling running up and over the ankles, most near to my knees? Yeah, that’s the way to do it.
Only, since I was about 30 seconds late for that one bus, and the driver was nice enough to stop for me, I was trying to run in boots. Doesn’t work. Or didn’t work. I looked like a dork. I also realized that I have no business whatsoever trying to sprint while wearing cowboy boots.
Neither do you. Might not be cowboy boots that you’re trying to run in, but whatever it is, don’t try and push yourself too far. It just looks ungainly. Or, in my case, a little silly.
Scorpio: One of my buddies is a typically frantic female. She lives around the corner from me. I’d sent her note, in response to a note she’d sent me, in response to a note that I’d sent, in response to a phone call from her, and–are you following all of this? Hope so. Anyway, during that exchange of correspondence, I’d let a term of endearment slip in, just a little social grease to help ease the pain of the planets.
I’m never sure is my buddy is wearing her “strident feminist” hat or her “militant vegan” outfit, or, for that matter, her coquettish “Texas Gal, thank-you-very-much honey” attire. It’s a good guess as to which one is the mode, mood and mind-set at the moment. That little social lubricant rubbed her militant feminist wrong. She blew her top at me, then left a nasty voice mail. And a rather terse, somewhat vulgar message in e-mail.
Worry about it? Why? Pretend you’re a Scorpio. That’s what I did. I looked at the chart, “Hmm, Mars, Venus, yes, in Taurus, that spells a few temper tantrums. It’s not about my Scorpio self.”
Sagittarius: Over dinner, the other night, with a couple of big-time “industry leaders,” the conversation quickly feel to dealing with e-mail in bulk. Which lead to a conversation about dealing with bulk e-mail, not the same thing. We compared numbers. I get about as much crap as they did. One of the young executives was touting a particular piece of software to assassinate spam. His boss, on the other side of the table, though, deplored such a technique. “Never can tell when that might filter out the one, crucial message, you know.”
How you go about filtering is pretty important these days. While it’s really nice to have someone or something do the dirty work, you’re left, as I am, with that lingering doubt, is there something not getting through that needs to get through?
Capricorn: It’d happened before, and I’m sure it will happen again, but I was waiting on a package delivery guy to hurry up and bring me something I’d ordered online. You know, the orange blue truck with the white stripes and the delivery people who all wear brown? One of those. I also desperately needed to take a shower so I could sally forth unto the world and face clients. I’ve had this trouble before, and I had humorous route driver at the time, a Sagittarius guy, and he claimed he waited around the corner until the timing was perfect. As soon as he heard the shower come on in my place he waited exactly three minutes, then he knocked on the door. Three minutes, just about enough time for me to get my face all lathered up, hair full of shampoo.
How do they do that? I’ll never know. “Perfect timing again, huh, Wetzel? Here, sign.” He chuckles. Covered in suds, I’m not clear enough to say something witty like “Sagittarius.”
So timing is important. You might find that your timing is off a bit, like that delivery guy showing up just when you’re stepping into the shower. You can get like me, and be a bit paranoid, suspecting that they wait until the water is running, but let’s be brutally honest, it just happens that way. Some events are out of your control. Look at the upside, the package does arrive, and it’s all good, in the bigger picture. Well, except for that water I left dripping on the doorstep.
Aquarius: A couple of weeks ago, one of my hardcore fishing buddies was busy trying to convince me to go fishing. The February mornings are just too cold, some weeks, and I really wasn’t up for it. To prove that I missed a good day, though, he posted along a snapshot of a 6-pound, 8-ounce big-mouth. “However,” as I replied, “look at what you’re wearing….” He had on a rain suit, covered him head to toe. Under that, poking out from under the hood, he obviously had a down vest, or jacket. Makes for that “bloated” look. Or the inflatable life-vest appearance. Then, closer examination, that revealed his fingers were starting to turn a little blue. Looking at the weather, I can guess that the lake was pretty choppy, too. I don’t care if he did get a couple of big fish, I’m just not equipped to handle that kind of miserably cold weather. Neither is Aquarius. Just because your friends are trying to convince you that “this is something you really should do” doesn’t mean that’s really something you should do. Our Aquarius selves are all about staying within our comfort zones for the time being.
Pisces: Happy Birthday! Thought I’d forget that one, didn’t you? Not likely, not as fond as I am of some Pisces. There is a certain amount of weirdness that seems to be floating around your sign, though, and this is something that might be left over from the previous week. I’m sure you’re just like me, and you want to keep moving onward and upward, but there’s that lingering thought from a week or two ago, and it keeps inserting itself at the worst possible time. In my Pisces case, it’s was when I was chatting with a contractor’s crew member. I was worrying along in my old, broken Spanish, and I’m sure that guys in the crew were laughing behind my back, but that didn’t bother me because I was making an honest effort to communicate in their [apparently] native language. I said, “Excuse me,” in what I thought was their version of Spanish, and then I added, “hope that’s correct,” in English. One of the dark, swarthy, hard looking young men, a dedicated worker, paused from his efforts, but didn’t look up, and said in flawless English, “Yes, that’s the right expression.” What bothered me, was this whole time, I thought that crew didn’t speak word one of English.
