For the Week starting: 2.23.2006

For the Week starting: 2.23.2006

It’s that little bit wherein (Prince) Hal robs Falstaff, sort of a fake robber robbing a fake robber. If that makes any sense.

Aries: There’s a sign on the road between Austin and San Antonio: “breakfast lunch dinner jerky.” The billboard is slightly faded, and it’s been there, like, forever. A simple sign advertising a place that’s been there equally long, if not longer. It has a slightly quaint, hokey, homespun feeling. The sign. Never been to the restaurant, but I know it’s been there for an eternity. As long as I’ve been riding up and down the highway to San Antonio, there’s been that symbol. Nominally, it pays homage to the German settlers who were rather instrumental in their Lutheran ways, to colonizing this area. The Teutonic influence is pervasive from the names to the architecture. But there’s also a local influence, the last item in the list, “jerky.” Seeing that billboard always brings a silly smile. Looking for familiar signs is what this is all about. Something that brings a smile, even if it is a little hokey. There’s reason enough to smile throughout the week, but not enough of my Aries friends are smiling. Look for the signs. Look for something that’s been there for a while, too, sort of like an item that you’ve overlooked because it’s just a natural part of the landscape. The sign should be obvious by the end of the week.

Taurus: The real flag — to me — of the Texas Revolution is the Gonzales Flag, from 1835. It all had to with the settlers and their dispute with the Mexican government about a canon. Wasn’t much of a canon, either, but it was symbolic. The flag was hastily sketched on a bed sheet, consider it airing dirty linen, and it was simple star, the canon, and the words, “Come and take it.” Symbolism like that gets buried in the greater subconscious of a place like Gonzales, and the image has lived on. And on. What I like about the flag? The words. “Come and take it.” On that flag, it was more like a banner, it was taunt. Flaunting the fact that the town did have, by possession, if not in the letter of the law, the artillery piece. There was a Mexican stand off, and the settlers retained possession. Then a whole lot of history happened. Last time I meandered through Gonzales, it’s on the back road I prefer to get to the coast, there was a replica of that flag. Several, in fact. Lot of them. Everywhere. For my Taurus friends, after what has been going on? I suggest you get one of those replicas of the flag and raise it above your desk, house, trailer. Wherever it seems best put to use. I’d be a little careful, too, as some folks might take it as a challenge. But like the Mexican force dispatched to disarm those rowdy immigrants? I’m sure you’ll win.

Gemini: I’ve got one friend here, a client, really, and she’s originally from New Orleans. Therefore, and by association, she should speak French. Or Cajun, at the very least. She can, when prompted, especially after she’s been home, lapse into that Louisiana-speak, with its heavy accent. It’s all about “bodreaux,” and “ma chere.” But when she’s confronted with certain situations, she can also lapse into Mexican slang, as in, she can artfully swear in Spanish. Or, to be more correct, she can curse a blue streak in border patois. Multiple languages are assets. Multiple ways to curse are even better. Going against what other people expect is even more amusing. There’s a caution, too, unless you’re swearing at me. Slipping from one language to another, from one regional dialect to another? If you do this too fast, or if the audience can’t follow the rapid change in rhythm? There can be a problem with the change-up. I’m not saying don’t give it a try, I’m just suggesting that the target audience might have a hard time following what you’re doing. Thank the movement of Mars for making the rest of us a little slower than you.

Cancer: I stopped at a coffee shop, early one morning. Guy in a suit, dark wool, white shirt with so much starch it could stand on its own. But this isn’t the rest of the world, it’s my world. Power tie, this week’s color. Cowboy boots and cowboy hat. What was odd to me, was that this wasn’t odd. Doesn’t everyone wear cowboy boots with a proper power suit? Isn’t a cowboy hat proper headgear, even inside? Yes. In my world. He was busy with something that involved a lot of printed pages and yellow highlighter. Plus an extra tall dosage of what looked like a fancy coffee drink. And from here? The rest of the observations are pure conjecture, whether he was business person getting ready for a pitch, or just catching up and reviewing notes, and then, maybe he was a cowboy, in to pitch something about the ranch. See what I mean? All pure conjecture, based solely on seeing a guy sitting there. What color hair? Eyes? Flight of the imagination are encouraged, but as long as Mr. Mars is kicking in Gemini? I’d be a little careful about drawing certain conclusions, especially when there is a lack of corroborating evidence. Circumstantial evidence is fine for conjecture, but solid conclusions require hard fact, not idle speculation. As difficult as it may be, differentiate between the two.

Leo: I was in a department store, shopping for a particular item. A sales guy approached me. He joked and then started talking about guitars, as if I was, de facto, a guitar player. Maybe it was my look that afternoon, long hair, black T, black jeans, boots. Yoke cut sport coat. “Yeah Kramer, he wanted you to join the band,” my buddy chided me. Then I had to listen to a few minutes’ worth of Stratocaster versus Fender debate, and which is better. I don’t know — they are instruments that more talented musicians play. I couldn’t tell one from the other without looking at the label, which again, assumes that there is a label on a guitar. I keep wondering if there’s some — invisible to me — label on my back, or across my forehead, that states, “Guitar player.” Hardly. The only music I can play with is the music of the spheres, an obvious reference to planets and such. Most of the good Leo types I know? They detest labels, unless it’s a specific label like, “The Leo.” The addendum to that title should include references to the Leo ability to know everything, and The Leo is always the best. Problem being, you’re going to get a sales guy, a counter person, someone who shows up and assumes that you’re something that you’re not. Probably involves hard work. Yes, you’re capable of the work, but no, like me and that guitar, maybe this is a task you shouldn’t assume. Or a mantle, a title, that doesn’t really apply. It’s okay to humbly demure, rather than to create a scene.

Virgo: I was pouring some more coffee into the tiny espresso cup I use most mornings. That way, I can feel like I’ve had ten or 12 cups of coffee, and really only consume one 16-ounce container of dark, viscous brew. As I tipped the pot over, I noticed that there was a stray cat hair, right on the very edge of spout. Since I was mid-pour, I couldn’t interrupt the action without a causing a mess. No Virgo likes a mess. And no Virgo likes cat hair in the coffee. But the easiest way to deal with it? After I poured the coffee, then I fished out the hair. Or, in my case, since I’m not really a Virgo, I just let my digestive tract deal with it. But if I had been a Virgo, then I would’ve waited and fished the hair out afterwards. That’s the answer to what’s going on, too, as you can compound an error, or you can make adjustments after the fact. Try and stop the hot coffee from issuing forth? Or just wait and pick that single strand of animal companion fur out of the mug after it’s made it in? Or even, like me? Just skip it all. But that’s not very Virgo-like.

Libra: I was out of town, and I’d found a deal on some special, glow-in-the-dark earthworms. It’s a bait that I use from time to time, most sporting goods places carry some variation of these worms. Usually, the worms look a green, and they do work in the murky depths, plus, I like the idea of brightly colored bait. I use them from time, just to change up the local fishes’ diet. Always trying to be friendly, that me. I had my little Styrofoam box with its green label in hand, and my date, my Libra date, took one look at the worm box, and suggested that the worms could stay in the car. “You will not be putting those in my refrigerator, not with the Tiramisu in there.” I couldn’t imagine that the worms would live very long in the car, not parked outside for a day, and frankly, I didn’t see any problem with the worms in the ice box, but some folks get a notion in their Libra heads, and there’s no point in arguing. I was a guest, and I couldn’t do anything else but comply. I put the worms back on the shelf at the store. Might’ve saved me a buck, but in the long run? Oh, never mind that the worms are safe, sealed in a container, and that the temperature means the little fellers won’t be wriggling out. Worms don’t go in a girl’s icebox, not if she’s also got Tiramisu. I got the point. When you’re faced with a similar dilemma? Follow my example, do what the hostess suggests.

Scorpio: I’ve got a client who has a job as a security officer for a particular judge’s chambers. By definition, and I’m quoting, “My job is to guard the guy in the black dress.” Funny job description, and it really does fit with that Scorpio humor. Funny person, that guard. Work can be fun, even when it’s serious work. That’s the secret. I’m sure you’re not looking forward to your job these days. Work probably doesn’t properly appreciate our dear Scorpio quadrant of the sky at this point. But if you can develop a way to look at the work, a way to make up a funny job description, you might be able to tackle some of the work issues with a wry grin. A wry Scorpio grin. The guy in the black dress? He really does need a guard. Sometimes, he even needs looking after himself, but that’s not the point. Just do your job, but work on an apt job title that more accurately describes what it is that you do.

Sagittarius: I really think I need to quit looking at news and rumor sites late at night. News facts, and just plain old-fashioned stories get confused in my head. I was reading something about a giant squid that washed up on the beach someplace. California? Australia? I don’t recall. That linked to an article that suggested the global warming trends plus a decline in natural predators was leading to an increase in the estimated cephalopod biomass, to the point that there are more of them than of us. Giant squids are taking over the world! The problem is, without digging through the browser’s cache from that other evening, I can’t duplicate the facts. Nor, for that matter do I really want to duplicate that data, and the inescapable conclusion that we’re all doomed to be eaten by giant squids. My reactionary response to this? I ordered calamari, then a little later? Ceviche made with “pulpo” (octopus). So it’s not the same thing, but I was close. Anything with tentacles from the deep? Yeah, I’ll show them. But I’m only one Sagittarius in this fight. Are you with me so far? Mars moved into Gemini, on the opposite side the astrology chart from us. We might make hasty and ill-informed decisions. But the sushi was so good….

Capricorn: I was heading back into the old trailer park, a cup of Austin Finest coffee in hand, and I was listening to something on the portable stereo, little earbuds singing in my ear. I felt the cell phone jiggle (set to vibrate), and I popped one earbud out to answer a panic Capricorn call. It was a problem with something at work, for that Capricorn. As soon as I got an earful of the conversation, I realized that I needed to pay full attention, and I popped out the other earbud. Right into the coffee cup. While I was talking and listening, I pulled the bud out of the coffee, sucked on it briefly, and then unplugged the portable stereo. I didn’t think about it until after days later, and as it turned out, the earbuds survived a quick swim in the coffee. Now, the Capricorn problem? Same thing. A little triage? That’s all it takes to solve the problems. The work problems, anyway. I can’t fix everything, and if something does go swimming in your coffee, or falls into a remarkably similar situation, quick action then some inaction might just save the day.

Aquarius: I was passing some municipal construction, adjoining one of the local parks. There was single city worker, down in a hole, which was about five feet deep. I looked over at my tax dollars at work. I asked about the pipe he was installing. One set of pipes was a drainage system — it collected rainwater and drained that to the creek, and from there, to river. The other set of thin pipes was a watering system. So there’s one set of pipes to bring water in and another set to remove water. And here, I thought rain was supposed to water the plants. Shows how much I don’t know about urban landscaping and plumbing gardens. The way water had to be regulated, instead of letting nature do her thing? I’m not sure that I fully grasped the whole concept, not with the guy in the hole, installing both irrigation and drainage. In my garden, in an Aquarius garden, we tend to let nature do its thing for us. These days, it’s all about drought-resistant plants. Or as one neighbor figured out, in my garden? Survival of the fittest — natural selection, at work. You can be like the city here, installing in and out pipes, or you can be like me, and just trust nature to take care of what’s native.

Pisces: Tag-team coffee making? Sure. There are these girls who usually work at the same time, and I flirt with them shamelessly as I can. Cute as can be, and maybe, about half my age. I’ve dated women with children older than this little tag team of baristas. What’s amusing to me, is the one girl thinks I like the other girl more, and the other girl thinks I like the one girl more. Confused? Sure. Do I realty have a favorite? Sure, whomever is making the coffee. One of the girls was rather cute the other afternoon, a new employee observed our exchange of pleasantries, and then concluded that I liked the one girl best. Obviously. She was making the coffee. Alas, the perspicacious Pisces figured it all out, too, that the one I liked best was the one with her hand on the espresso machine. Due to the influence of birthdays, plus a little dose of extra insight from Uranus, as those two influences line up pretty well, right about now, you’re seeing a person, or a situation, for what it really is. Like that one, outside observer, someone who’d never seen the interaction before, she nailed it. Pisces. Trust the Pisces ability to cut throw the crap, and call a situation for what it really is.

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