“O me! You juggler, you canker blossom…”
Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream [III.ii.282]
All righty, let’s check the notes on quotes, see, it’s Hermia to Helena, all bent about the stealing of Lysander, you following all this so far, except that no one stole anyone, it was just Puck’s magic love potion delivered to the wrong human, much to everyone’s chagrin, but, at least, it was a good plot twist. Puck’s mistake? Let’s just look at Mercury being backwards (in Pisces).
More travel info, and upcoming dates are here.
Aries: “Whoa there, big fella….” It’s a comment I’ve got written on a bit of foolscap, just another piece of paper littering the trailer’s desk. Really, I think it was on the kitchen counter, then the paper migrated to coffee table, and it finally made its way to the desk itself. That’s a long and arduous route for single slip of paper. The only reason I’m offering up the story about the scrap’s route? Means I don’t know who said that first. But not being able to provide a source for the quote? That’s not a problem. It’s what the expression suggests, that’s the real clue. When I wheeled your chart around, I kept noticing two particularly important little items. Number one? Mercury retrograde in the sign that precedes your fine Aries self. Number two? The Sun is almost, not quite, but almost, very close, almost in Aries. These two elements are going to work against you — or for you — if you play it right. Slow it down, for the time being. It’s going to happen. That wish will come through. Just not quite as fast as you — or for that matter me — would like it to happen for you.
Taurus: I was standing by the edge of the river the other afternoon. It was sort of cloudy, sort of damp and sort of cool. A couple of very tiny fish were teasing me, but other than that, there wasn’t much happening. Too cold for a dip in the creek, too warm for fish to bite, and since Mercury is firmly backwards, not much else was going on. So I took it easy, and I parked the fishing pole. I was going to clean the trailer out a bit, but I go to looking at a fishing magazine, and that gave me an idea for way to rig a pole, and then, when I got started digging around in the fishing tackle, I realized that there was a mess I needed to clean up, and as I started to sort out the gear, I forgot that I wasn’t going to go fishing anyway, and it all turns into a convoluted mess. Like me, you’re going to find that you get easily distracted. There is a simple solution: go back to what you were dong first. In plain language, the first action — or in the case of my fishing — inaction? That’s what the Taurus is supposed to be doing. That’s what requires your attention.
Gemini: Some tricks in life, I’ve learned a little too late. But better late than never, right? I was hopping out of the shower, doing what I usually do, and I can be ready in less than 20 minutes. I had a towel wrapped around my wet hair, and I was busy smearing a little bit of hand lotion on my face. It wasn’t until I was done that I looked in the mirror. Scared myself. I looked like an old woman, hair up in a towel, some kind of cream on face. It’s not miracle wrinkle cream, or base, or whatever those magical potions that females tend to use, just hand lotion. I started doing that a few years back because it helped with chapped and dry skin, from my over-exposure to the elements, like wind and sun. But the image that presented itself in the mirror that morning? Frightening. I’ve got to remember to not answer the door until I’m clothed, the hair is out of the towel, and the hand lotion has soaked in. Be careful, in this upcoming week, you don’t want to look in the mirror too closely, or you’ll scare yourself. In my case, and I suspect with Gemini it’s the same, just an extra 20 minutes or so makes all the difference. Just be aware that Mr. Mercury and Mr. Mars are going to conspire to only give you 15 minutes rather than the necessary 20 minutes for preparations.
Cancer: There’s a fishing technique that I’ve perfected over the years. It’s really only suitable for my narrow little bend in the creek here, and it only seems to work for me. But it works great. And after looking at what’s happening, I was concentrating on two planet-type influences, I figure I can pass along this idea, since it should help you. I tend towards tying to figure way to get the fish to start biting, and what I do is start with a light rig and just a few worms. Earth worms. Night crawlers. Wiggly little critters. I tease and feed the perch, the sunfish, the tiny little fellers that stay close to the shoreline. Then, as the evening wears on, the little fish attract bigger fish. Eventually, all the little fish activity draws the attention of the bigger fish. Food is food, right? One time, the water was clear enough, the moonlight was just perfect, and I could see the little fish swirling around the bait, and then a much larger bass flashed up from the depth for some prime pickings. Which included my bait, and I had myself a fun evening of it. But it’s a two step process. First the little fish then a decent fish. First something we’d rather not be seen with then something worthwhile. Two-step process. First the little ones, then a trophy.
Leo: You wouldn’t believe the amount of gag gifts that I get with a “fishing motif.” Everyone assumes that’s it’s funny, amusing, or that I might actually have some practical application for another T-shirt, hat, towel, or coffee mug emblazoned with some logo/image/cute catch-phrase about fishing. But I do have a lucky lighter, and it was just such a gift. Windproof, butane, in the shape of an old-fashioned lure. Great for lighting cigars at night, when the cool March breezes are blustery. I was fishing from the dock, and I had something, probably that “girlfriend” of a fish, on the line. As I bent over to fetch her up for the requisite photo and to return her to lake, I felt that lighter slip out of my pocket and splash next to her. Many bad words, and the quick decision was the get the lighter later. Fish on, fish off, quick picture, splashed back in the lake, and then I leaned over to get the lighter. I stretched. Comical, I almost fell in. But I didn’t, and I did retrieve the lucky lighter. Only, after a couple of minutes in the water, the lighter sparked but didn’t flame. Later that evening, I set it aside, and let it dry out completely. I’d hate to lose a string of good luck. Took almost a week before it started to work again. But it did. Just a matter of time. So your Leo self has a near-miss like losing that lighter. But like me, nothing that a little studied patience and not messing with the problem can’t cure.
Virgo: I was in a super discount mega-store the other evening. I was with a girlfriend — of expected proportions — and I was pushing my little cart around. I had some potting soil, a couple of cheap flower pots, a deal on a spool of fishing line, and we’d wandered back to the gardening section. My shopping companion stopped to look at some seed packages, and me? I was two aisles away. Suddenly, a cart comes up behind me. A tall, thin, lovely woman, maybe a few years younger than me, she gives me an apprising look. Starts at my feet, expensive cowboy boots. Slides up to my jeans, gives me the visual equivalent of a gentle squeeze of the cheeks, then looks at the belt, the understated buckle, the various electric devices clipped to my belt, then on upwards, she was doing the full “undress” with her eyes. And liking what she was seeing, as a thin smile played across her lips. I was about to blush when the girlfriend I was with returned holding a tray of seedlings, something for me to plant at the girlfriend’s house. The other one, checking me out? She just dropped her gaze, turned, and slowly faded into the aisle, a light mew of distaste played across her lips. I think she regretted that I was straight, unafraid of shopping, filled out the jeans correctly male, and — remember a girlfriend was with me — apparently unavailable. The facts are lot different from first appearances.
Libra: “I want a horoscope like you do for other signs, you know, all good news.” Actual e-mail note. Some days, you just wouldn’t believe the crap I have to read. Or listen to on the old voice mail. And some days, I choose to ignore such messages, other than a perfunctory “thanks for taking the time to write in” kind of a reply. If I were smarter, I’d have an auto-reply set-up, and I’d let that reply to all those folks whining because all I seem to do is remind them that work is pretty important these days. There is something afoot at work. Might be elsewhere in the Libra chart, but to me, it looks like work. Remember that the pesky little Mercury cycle is occurring, and remember that you might have to repeat yourself, just to make a point. What’s funny, to me, but I have twisted sense of humor, is that Mercury and his “repeat three times” series of events? Occasionally, that’s what it takes to make the point. Look: it’s just work. It’s not life and death, but be prepared, as some folks will look at you and wonder why you have to repeat yourself three times. Did I mention that already? Just being sure.
Scorpio: I was out of town, and I’d wandered off without a charger for the portable phone. Didn’t bother me, as I’d be back in town after the weekend, and I could charge the phone up again, get the old messages, and everything would be all right. Again. Problem being, I had three messages from a certain young lady who was all kinds of upset that I didn’t return her messages over the weekend. Phone was dead. I didn’t know. She was just sure I was out, living it up, having a good time, spending her money and lavishing my affections on someone else. Actually, I was just working, but let’s not let the facts of the matter interfere with a woman’s scorn. And after three days of silence? Three messages on Friday, two on Saturday, and finally, just hang-up with a disgruntled noise on Sunday. So when I called on Monday, I was in deep trouble, unbeknownst to me. It’s also why I have a PUBLISHED voice mail number — that always gets my attention. I was a victim of my own technological hell. Not even my fault, I thought I’d packed the charger. You can bet I’ll check next time. But that ire, the scorn, the escalating problems with no phone? That’s one person getting rather worked up over what I consider a luxury — a portable phone. Which one are you? The dupe who makes an innocent mistake? Or worse, all worked up over something that no one really has any control over?
Sagittarius: I’m not sure what’s the worst of the two, Mars in Gemini, or Mercury retrograde in Pisces? Either one can cause some trouble. Either one is responsible for our somewhat less than sunny outlook. And either one can be blamed for the lack of communication. Communication is such a broad category, I was going to refine it a little, and suggest that our normally loquacious Sagittarius selves aren’t able to calm folks down like we normally can. Suggesting that something will turn up, or that it’ll work out somehow? Hey, usually such bland words can serve as a balm to the problem. Because I live in a moist environment, along the edge of a river, I’m used to a reasonably humid environment. Way it goes. I travel a great deal in far more arid environments, and I’ve gotten to the point that I buy — and carry — various little tubes of lip balm just as a matter of course. This little Mercury issue has left a crick in my neck, and I also had a little tin of some kind of tiger balm, just to ease the soreness. When I was reaching into my bag to grab the lip balm, I accidentally grabbed the heat rub, instead. No, I didn’t put it on my lips, not this time, but it could happen. Chapped lips, burning sensation, Mercury or Mars? Either one fits this scenario. Look twice before applying any type of topical cure for the planets that irritate us.
Capricorn: I have Cap buddy of mine, he’s getting all worked up today. Yesterday. Tomorrow. It’s not really a big deal, either. It’s not a big deal to me, but I enjoy the leisure of not being in his particular situation. And really, looking at the details, he’s all worked up over insignificant details. There was an airplane ticket he wanted to get, something about a girl and a visit. The sale started yesterday. It will be on sale through the weekend. But he was sure that if he didn’t buy that ticket today, right at this very moment, the discount (affordable) airfare would go away. He doesn’t get paid until Friday. In your case, my little Capricorn friend, it might not be a plane ticket, or might not be about a distant girlfriend, but putting something off until, at the very least, this weekend? That’s good idea. He doesn’t get paid until Friday, and he was going to use a debit card, and he was sure that the airline would just hold the number until Friday. Cash deal for the good price, right? You do understand that? Wait until the weekend. Sale will last until then, I promise.
Aquarius: I was sitting here, munching on cold pizza, for breakfast, and I remembered the words of the pizza counter help. It’s pizza from a little town called San Marcos, a delightful town, home to South West Texas (state university). On the square, there’s a legendary pizza parlor called “Valentino’s.” The house special is bacon, tomato and ranch dressing pizza. Great stuff. So I was munching on my last slice, and I got to thinking about what the cook told me when I ordered the pizza, “The tomatoes. Takes longer for the cheese to melt, be about 20 minutes.” The sliced tomatoes hold the heat, or maybe the kitchen staff was a bit lazy on that Monday afternoon in February. So it did take a little longer. As I was eating that last slice, I was thinking about how it is for Aquarius. Pizza, normal pizza, takes 10-15 minutes. Valentino’s special, “Bacon, Tomato & Ranch Dressing” is going to take longer. So whether you’re waiting on specialty pizza, or something else to pop out, it’s going to take a little longer because of Mr. Mercury. Can’t say that you weren’t warned, either.
Pisces: I used to chide this one girlfriend because she didn’t like my fishing worms — live bait — in her car. Not in her car, not in her icebox, nope, not even around her. The worms I get usually come in a sealed container with tiny air holes, so, it’s not like the worms are going to escape and gain free run of the backseat or anything. The other evening, the girlfriend was with me when I was fishing. Suspect, if you ask me, her claiming to like to fish when she won’t touch a pole, but anyway, I caught one, got picture, tossed ’em back, and opened up the worm container for fresh bait. Cool night out, the Canadian Night Crawlers like that cold weather. I didn’t put the lid back on the container tightly. Left it askew. I toss the line out, watch the bobber for a second, then turn back to the date. She squeals. One of the little wigglers was making an escape. They’re earthworms. Not dangerous, not yucky, carry no diseases, safe. Absolutely safe. Seeing that one blind appendage snaking out of the box? Suffice it to say, that killed the fun for the evening. Plus, next time I try to talk her into worms in the back seat? She ain’t buying my story. She’s seen them try and escape. I’m sure your Pisces self is familiar with certain aspects of this tale. “You don’t have anything to worry about, they NEVER get out….” “Yeah, except that one, I saw….” This is what happens when Mercury is backwards in your sign, some incontrovertible evidence crawls out.
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