“If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men.”
Shakespeare’s A Midummers Night’s Dream (V.i.211)
Aries: One of my neighbors in Shady Acres was fishing alongside me at the river’s edge. He wasn’t on the dock, but he wasn’t far. He did manage to catch the prettiest little catfish, using chicken liver as bait. The next morning, I asked what he did with that fish, as it had many tales to tell, I’m sure, living alongside us in a trailer park’s waterfront arena. My neighbor explained that he’d just taken the catfish, whole, and popped it in the freezer, as that single fish wasn’t quite enough for a meal, in and of itself. What I know about catfish, especially the local ones? They are tough fish. They’ve survived, remarkably unchanged, through eons of time. I can just imagine that the catfish, in the freezer? He’s just taking a nap. If there ever was a Catfish Liberation Front, then they’d be mounting a surgical strike to free their companion. Like that catfish, currently slumbering in suspended animation in my neighbor’s trailer. Life in Aries is like, time for a little “ice-age” kind of a nap. Warms as it’s been lately? A nap in the freezer sounds kind of good, too.
Taurus: “How could you, as my friend, let me do this!” Fairly typical remark, especially for the time being. See, I was listening to a Taurus complain about some action she had taken, a project she had undertaken, and it was obviously a lot more than she should’ve ever promised. We’ve all done this before. Appetizer, salad, main course, dessert. By the time dessert arrives, it’s too good to pass up but we’re all too full to safely ingest it, as well. What to do? Eat now, complain later. What’s this have to do with the relative position of a certain planet? It’s back to that opening comment, how could I let you do this? Ever try to dissuade a friend from actions, which are bound to have dire consequences, and yet that friend is determined to follow the course? Same deal here. Only, it’s probably my fine Taurus friend who needs to be persuaded to change direction. Or not volunteer. Or not opt for that full-meal-deal. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t indulge, but I’m warning you, there are consequences of your actions. Don’t make promises, even though you want to fulfill them, don’t make promises that you might not want to fulfill. Or can’t fulfill. Go easy. Shoot low. No one has ever gone broke underestimating the outcome.
Gemini: I watched as a guy was striping a parking lot. Looks easy, but think about it, can you do that? I sure couldn’t. This is one of the few times that I didn’t intervene and ask questions like, “What’s your birthday?” But I did observe and analyze. I thought about myself, trying to run a striping machine, sort of like a lawnmower that paints a four-inch wide stripe of paint. I decided that I couldn’t do it, no matter what. The parking lot where the guy was working, it had been resurfaces, and there was a vast expanse of newly vacant black parking that was ready for lines. But the painstaking way those lines had to be laid down? If it had been me? I’d stop halfway through one line, look at the chart for the moment, reflect on where Mars was, and then wander off to get a cool beverage. Perhaps I’d get a little mischievous, and make some of the parking spots too close to each other. Or cant them all at impossible angles. A surrealist’s parking space? It’s a simple message, after watching that guy work, all the spaces lined up perfectly: some jobs are best left to other signs. Play to the Gemini strengths, it’s not a good time to tackle a task that requires the same action, over and over.
Cancer: “1974 VW bug for sale. Replaced fenders with fiberglass, Plexiglas windows, dual exhaust, oil cooler….” the list of improvements, and the machine itself? Very clean, everything I would’ve done, if it had been mine. Now, the weird part, with that long list of replaced reproduction parts? The price. That car now cost approximately twice as much as it had been when it was new. And that’s in 1974 dollars versus the current economic version, which, I suspect, doesn’t stretch nearly as far. Don’t get me wrong, this was a very clean vehicle. Cool, even, especially by my standards. Excellent, even. The right modifications, the correct timber to its muffler, the improved fiberglass panels and replacing that old glass with something stronger, a just a huge improvement all the way around. But think about this car, it’s over 30 years old, is it a reliable form of primary transportation? No AC. Is that something that’ll work for your delicate Cancer sensibilities, in the middle of the next summer? It’s just cooling off to the point where you can think that, “I could get by without AC.” Pleasant thought. Not realistic. Before you plunk down twice what it was worth originally, think about some of the longer range portions of the deal. Now, if you’re shopping for a second car, or play car, or weird bit of transportation history, then this might be something worth looking at. But keep yourself focused on the most important matters, first.
Leo: I snapped a picture when I was overseas, it was a sign, “Sitting on the stairs is forbidden.” If that had been an American sign? “DO NOT sit on stairs.” Five words or six? Imperative command or passive reminder? I’d opt for the way it was phrased elsewhere, myself. Although I do tend to be direct at times, I still like the rhythm and cadence of the other version. The foreign signage struck me as more civilized, although, I doubt that it would deter nearly as many folks. Only a person like myself would go ahead and sit on the steps, and I’d do it out of an adolescent immaturity rather than for any other reason. But that sign was there for a reason, although, it escapes me now because all I had was the snapshot. No details, other than the way the sign was phrased. Passive voice versus active voice. European versus American. Indirect versus command. My most excellent Leo friend will encounter a similar plea, in the coming days, maybe in the next couple of weeks. Here’s the tip: if the sign suggests that you don’t sit there, as much as it pains me, all I can suggest is that you don’t sit there. Follow the rules, even if that’s difficult. My reasoning is actually based on the relative astrological positions of several planets, but it’s simple enough. Pay attention the rules, even if it comes across as a command. I can save you a lot of Leo pain, by suggesting that you don’t sit where you’re told not to sit.
Virgo: I got lulled into a false sense of security by the weather. I was up early one morning, and it really did feel cool outside. I opened the door and the window, luxuriating in the soft and gentle zephyrs blowing through the dark reaches of my mind, and I got to thinking that Fall had arrived. That particular day warmed up nicely, right on up to the “rotisserie” version of a hot Texas day. Still air, camped out overhead, not much of those gentle morning breezes stirring, everything lay in sodden heat again. The trick is not to get lulled into a false sense of security, whatever that Virgo comfort zone might be. Don’t fall for one of Mother Nature’s tricks, or anyone else for that matter, and don’t be led astray. You want to believe something so strongly that you’re like me, “Hot damn (pronounced ‘day-hum’)! It’s turning cool outside!” Then you grab a fishing pole, bolt for the lake, only to discover that, by 10 in the morning, it’s just as miserable hot as it’s been before. So a couple of planets are lending you this false sense that there’s a perceptible change, which you like, and I’m not saying that changes aren’t afoot, but be careful about premature excitement for this change. It’s still hot outside, and AC is still our good friend.
Libra: I was meeting with a client, and I watched as she approached — she’s Libra — I could tell that, “something’s up.” There’s a special roll to her gait, an air of confidence, a twinkle in the eye, and hint of merriment around the corners of her eyes. Just a hint, a look of innate assurance that she knows she’s on top of whatever the situation is. We started with the reading, and as I poked along through the chart and its influences, I kept getting the sense that I was missing something. The client was holding out, keeping something in reserve, stonewalling, sandbagging, playing coy. Turns out, whatever I wrote last week, maybe the week before? It was right on. Hit her dead center and she appreciated the fact. Plus, as fate would have it, I’d called it so right that she was waiting to see if I could nail that issue again. I kept digging around in her chart, and I couldn’t quite catch the nuance of what she was looking for. Eventually, we got around to the question and answer, and I addressed the missing point: Venus. Venus does, on occasion, bring romantical notions. And it did. And the client was happy with that first blush of new love. The only caution that I’ve got? Two, really, Venus and first blush are leaving Libra, and the birthday time hasn’t arrived just as of yet. Wait until that first blush wears off, and wait until your birthday to see if this is a “ring-worthy” experience, and adjust as need be to fit your Libra situation.
Scorpio: I watched while a worker was dragging a chainsaw into the treetop. The amount of work for the amount of work. He only fired the saw up for a few minutes, but the amount of work to get that chainsaw up in the branches was astounding. After about three minutes of actual chainsaw time, he took a break, and lowered himself down out of the furthest reaches of the tree’s limbs to the ground. He swigged on a bottle of water, chatted with an assistant, exchanged a ribald joke, made an off-color remark, and then he ascended again. Lots of work for about two more minutes of chainsaw action. Total elapsed time was well over an hour, and yet, he only ran the chainsaw itself for a matter of minutes. Took a lot of time to get in the right position. Had to take a break. Spent a few extra minutes climbing up and down. Twice. I got tired just from watching him ape an ape. Plus there were a couple of safety lines that had to be attached. He wore a harness of some sort, and he was continually clicking latches onto the two ropes he was working with. In that hour, I don’t think the saw’s motor ran more than five or six minutes. Lots of work for a little work.
Sagittarius: There are warning signs going to Port A ferry. Not familiar with the Gulf Coast/Coastal Bend area and its nuances? There’s a ferry service that operates between two points across a short section of the Inter Coastal Waterway. Approaching the ferry, there’s a long litany of signs. I don’t mean the usual kind of warning signs, or maybe they are. I endeavored to catalog the whole list of signs, but I fell short. No smoking, set the parking brake, turn off the motor, stay in the car, and so on. It’s for a very short ride from Aransas Pass to Port Aransas, not much more than a couple of hundred meters of waterway. The signs start about three miles back, or so it seems. There’s a sign with an admonition there on, every 100 yards or so. It’s amusing, in a wry way, to see so much signage dedicated to such a short experience. However, I’m sure that the safety aspects are all covered. Safety, with the current planetary disarray? Very important. Pay attention to all the signs that beckon and warn about upcoming experiences. You can never be too safe, not given where a certain little red planet is at this point.
Capricorn: It’s a little convoluted, the way the story goes, as I was friend of a friend who got a deal on a fancy hotel for a couple of days. Not exactly the kind of place I stay, not at those prices. So I was seeing how the other half lived, so to speak. There was a “serve me” sign as the door hanger. I found that pretty amusing. “Serve me.” What, a Leo hotel? Apparently, I misread the fancy script on the door hanger, and I’m not sure it really said, “serve me,” but I liked the way it sounded. You’d have to know the friends I was traveling with, to fully grasp that. The deal is, you want to be served in style befitting your Capricorn self. The problem? Or is it really a problem? Tone down some of the expectations. I’ll agree that you are a regal presence and I’ll agree that your Capricorn self needs a door hanger that says, “Serve Me.” But I won’t agree that it’s going to happen this next couple of days. Or even in the next six weeks. But I’ll admit that I can be wrong about some of this, too, and it might surprise you that I am wrong, and you are treated with the respect that you’ve more than earned. But until I’m wrong — it could happen — I’d be a little more circumspect, and little less demanding.
Aquarius: I was walking out of Shady Acres the other afternoon. Hot summer afternoon, I was probably headed towards a swimming pool or the creek. Since school’s started, the crowds at the creek are much thinner in number. As I crunched along the gravel road, one of my neighbors was walking his dog, a blue healer type of looking hound. A proper hound dog, if you ask me. We exchanged pleasantries, me and that neighbor, then his dog set up the most ferocious howling. Dog didn’t like me, or something. Master started in on the dog, “Hey, stop that. Shut up. BE QUIET!” he looked at me, the dog, and then back at me, shrugged his shoulders and murmured an apology for the dog acting like a dog. I wouldn’t be surprised if the dog smelled cat on me, or something like that. Or the dog didn’t like my long hair. Or the shirt I had in hand. Nominally, that dog is a buddy, but something set him that other afternoon. Me? Worried about it? Why? I take a certain amount of pride in the fact I can piss everyone off, sooner or later. I was also patient, I didn’t move fast, and I made no sudden moves, not with a dog howling bloody murder. Time out of my day? Maybe three minutes. Discomfort on the part of the dog’s master? Priceless. This is an example of how to handle certain situations that are going to crop up in the next six weeks. That three minutes when I played nice? Bought me six weeks’ worth of apologies from the dog’s owner.
Pisces: I was on the hike and bike trail, and I was wandering through the East Austin environs. It’s a little less populated with joggers and crazed cyclists. A portion of the trail winds behind the old power plant, and there’s a good inlet for fishing. I was casually meandering down that one path and I happened upon a scene that struck home with me. There were a half dozen dead minnows scattered on the bank. Someone had been fishing, and not having a lot of luck with live bait. Which begged a question, in my mind, were those store-bought minnows or had someone used a fine bait net to catch the feeding fish, and then just tossed what was left over? Questions, questions. You’re probably not going to happen upon a half dozen dead bait fish on the side of a creek where a lot of people fish. But you are going to stumble across some kind of scene, might be eerily similar, where you’re left with an idea of what works — and what doesn’t work. Usually, in that creek’s mouth, those minnows work really well. But due to the odd perturbations in the planets, what usually works? It doesn’t seem like that’s going to work at this point. I made note of the baitfish, noted that they probably didn’t work, and resolved to return, the next morning, with a pole and some glow-in-the-dark worms. Don’t be afraid to step outside the confines of what is normally accepted as common sense wisdom. Some folks might find what you do a little odd, but if you look for the clues, like baitfish on the ground, you might have a better idea of what will work for you.
