For the Week starting: 4.6.2006
“Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!”
Shakespeare’s The Tempest [II.i.24]
Again, we have here a comment that might be leveled at me. In fact, it’s just Antonio poking fun at Gonzalo. Mars is in the final stages of Gemini, making a lot of us more spendthrift with our wagging tongues.
Aries: It was cool spring night, about a week ago, and I was making some soup for supper. I took a can out of the cupboard, dumped its contents into the soup cup and added my own touch of spice. I usually just sprinkle a little cayenne on whatever gets done in my kitchenette as it’s the only spice I keep on hand. Getting close to the bottom of the liter-sized jar of ground pepper, so I just tilted the jar over the soup. In fell about a tablespoon-full of pepper. I usually don’t add water to the soup, but looking at the pepper, I figured it wouldn’t hurt, not this time. What I had for dinner that night surely did warm my soul. And my stomach, lips, everything. A little slip, and I finally figured out what’s precious close to too much. I’ve joked about it, but for real, I had to put on lip balm before I had that soup. I’m not one to go back, after a mistake — really a clumsy error — and admit I was wrong. In part, I wasn’t really wrong so much as I inadvertently experimented with the upper limit of what I could endure for flavor. A planet is making you clumsy, like me, and you’re inclined to make a mistake, like mine. Too much? If it was salt, maybe so. But too much hot stuff for an Aries? Or me? Just consider it an experiment in the limits to limits.
Taurus: There’s a parking lot, just across the street from the eastern edge of the hike and bike trail, and that expanse of empty space gets used a for a number of events. I’ve seen carnivals, street theater, tractor-trailer rigs, and one spring afternoon, a group of mostly young men, drilling. Not like drilling a hole, but as in marching. Going through the exercises that I’ve long-since forgotten, about cadence, and thirty-inch step, and left-right-left, and all of that. I was going to hop over the low wall, and offer to count cadence, as I bet I could still do that, but I’m not sure how my non-martial appearance would be accepted. But I did pause, and I did observe, and from the appearance, those lads need to the practice. It took me many months to learn that the infantry wasn’t going to adopt to my long-legged stride, and the only hope I had was to succumb to their marching orders. Looked like there was at least one individual having my same troubles. My guess, and it’s just a wild estimate, is that it was an ROTC group. Personally? Count me as a fan and supporter of the cause. It would make a great story, about how I stopped the group, a squad, I’m guessing again, and how I asked about birthdays. But I didn’t. Might be Austin, but I’m not sure that the folks would appreciate the interruption. I sauntered onward, looked for fish, had a taco. And I kept thinking about that one guy, a little out of step. Given where your planets are located, you’re feeling like that one team member who can’t seem to get in step with the rest of the crowd. It’s not really that hard, it’s just that your Taurus self doesn’t feel like you fit in, at least, not exactly the way you’re supposed to. Eventually, it took me several months of being abused, I did learn. I doubt it will take you that long. Some systems can’t be beat — learn to march they way everyone else is.
Gemini: Maybe you’ll like this one. I clicked through to a website that was clearly a spoof. Clever bit of time wasting, if you ask me. After poking at various buttons on the site, enjoying the parody and wit, plus a bit of clever programming, I clicked on the “dealer directory.” Remember, this was a fake product, an item that doesn’t exist, for a company that doesn’t exist, just fever dream from a Gemini mind. Clever parody. On the dealer directory page, there was a USA map. Each state was a button. Roll the pointer over the states? There’s window that popped up, “No dealers in your area.” To me, this was clever. To some folks, especially the kind of people your Gemini self will encounter in the next couple of days? You’re going shoot that website’s URL over to a friend, and that friend will reply with something like, “And I was going to buy one, too, but I couldn’t figure out how to submit an order, and there’s no dealer in our area….” As a Gemini, the sign of the twins, are you taking something a little too serious? Or are you encountering other signs who are taking something too serious?
Cancer: The body of water in front of Shady Acres is either a river or lake. Nominally, it’s a section of the Colorado River. On the trail the other afternoon, I noticed little canoe with one guy in the back, and two girls in the forward part. They were furiously paddling against the current, and as I watched, I marked that they were actually — slowly — drifting backwards. Not the intended direction. The River Authority was letting out some water that afternoon, perhaps a rain upstream or something. The current is strong and deep right in that one spot. It’s a pointless battle, as the crew of the tiny craft wasn’t making any headway. Eventually, about the time I got around — on foot — to the other side, they figured it out. In that case, head to the middle of the river, and the current’s not nearly as strong. Apt way to look at what’s happening with Cancer. Can’t make any progress where you’re at? Try changing position. Some times just a few feet out of the main current? Helps ease the burden of the planets.
Leo: There’s a local convenience store, just around the corner from where I live. Its principle form of income is derived from sales of inexpensive malt beverages and, for me, live bait and hot dogs, fresh off the hot dog warmer. Personally, I prefer the tubes of mystery meat that look like they’ve been there a while, as it makes me think the food is more cooked. Which it should be. There was sign up besides the front, door, a help wanted sign. Hand-lettered, a little rough, so I asked for an application. I can always find ways to supplement my income. I also put down a ridiculous salary requirement. When I spoke to the manager (owner, I think) in his broken English, he asked why I needed such a large salary. I replied, “The job’s going to be a lot harder for me because I don’t know what I’m doing,” thereby justifying the larger salary requirement. Me and this guy, we get along, as I regularly purchase worms, foodstuffs and similar provisions from his meager shelves. I don’t think he got the joke. But was it really a joke? If I’m going to tackle a hard job, I want to be adequately compensated for my efforts. That’s the problem with the mighty Leo, too. You’ve got a hard task ahead, and like that store owner, I don’t think that the “human resources department” understands that you’re The Leo, and as such, you need to be paid more.
Virgo: I was with one of my friends, a curvy female, and we were bickering back and forth about a certain political issue. It was an emotional issue, not a rational one, and neither one of us had a clear-cut answer as to what was right and what was wrong. Not that it mattered. This is one of my female friends that I hang around just for the sake of entertainment. I’m her “boyfriend lite,” as it were. But we do carry on like an old married couple. The guy watching us carry on finally got around to asking, “So how long you two been married?” My red-headed friend? Wrong question. She let loose with diatribe that curled my hair even more. It was all about how worthless males are, the institution of marriage is bankrupt, and she never would trust another male as long as she lived. Then we resumed our normal banter, which is done in a loving way. Confused the poor outsider. He didn’t know what to think. He realized it was the wrong question, but even then, the sheer (apparent) anger was frightening. Nothing’s more scary than an irritated red-head. What’s really important? Given where the planets are, you’re going to encounter a similar situation, only, you’re not me, or my friend, you’re the outsider. You ask a simple, conversational question, and that seemingly innocuous inquiry nets a rabid response. When that happens? As much as you might like to jump into the fray and add your own opinion? My suggestion is to back away slowly, keeping your hands in sight.
Libra: “No baby, once you’re in the system, you’re good to go, no really, I mean it.” After living in Austin for so many years, I understand more how inter-office politics work for city-county-state-federal employees (since I’ve got so many as friends and clients). It was particular Libra, and after much resume wrangling and rewriting, she finally got into the system. Starting out, it doesn’t pay much, but it’s got all the benefits that go with a government job, about every third weekend is a long weekend, and while she’s expected at the office at 7 AM, the supervisors don’t roll into until almost 10. Those same supervisors are often gone by 4, too. It’s a sweet gig, and while it doesn’t pay much, not at first, and the hours appear to be long, it’s really not a bad job at all. The work’s agreeable, and none too challenging. The support staff is friendly, and over all, it’s a sweet gig. Plus, like I started out explaining, once you’re “in the system,” it’s easy to advance. Plus there’s always the cost-of-living pay increase. Think: your tax dollars at work. So, what this means, as applied to the moment of now? Libra: you’re in the system. Might not seem like a big step forward, and, in fact, for that one Libra, she saw a cut in cash at the end of the pay period. But insurance, retirement, and other tangible benefits? All doubled. Might not see any big pay-off this week, but the long-term outlook? You’re finally getting ahead.
Scorpio: A Scorpio got a hold of me for a reading. Typical, to me, consultation. Except that I always handle Scorpio folks with extra care. Have to be careful, you know, I’ve got razor marks on my forearm from that last encounter, but never mind that now. It’s all a function of Jupiter, as much as anything. So I was sitting in a quiet corner of local coffee shop, and the Scorpio comes up, “What are you doing?” “Nothing,” I replied. “Then how do you know when you’re done?” That’s the biggest problem with doing nothing, knowing to call it quits. For me, it was easy: client arrived, I folded up the newspaper and had a gander at a chart. While that was an easy migration, from nothing to something, in the span of a minute or less, that’s not always the case, not for everyone, and especially not for Scorpio. So how do you know when you’re done doing nothing? I’d suggest that the start of this spring-time, now that most of the cold-weather activities are over, I’d suggest it’s time to get your nice Scorpio backside into gear. Push in the clutch on the Scorpio motor, drop the shift lever down into low gear, and ease up on the clutch. Feed the Scorpio motor a little gas, and ease off in a particular direction. You’re done doing nothing, and it’s high time you started moving yourself in one forward direction. In about a ten days, this will make sense. Good sense. And instead of waiting on someone to show up and tell you what to do, if you start easing towards that destination now? You’ll look even more brilliant than usual.
Sagittarius: A buddy of mine, Sagittarius, was pitching a fit. (Colloquialism, means hissy fit, rage, ire, &c.) He gets paid on Friday, he had just enough money in the bank account to get us some (cheap) dinner, and his card was refused. He got on the phone, called up the bank, and after a few minutes of being nice, he got to the live operator, and finally got to the root of the problem. The last $29.95 had mysteriously disappeared from his bank account. “Tell me where it went, and have it back in the account tonight, or I’m coming over there right now. Who did it go to?” The operator — I’m guessing here — looked up that last transaction, rattled off the name of an adult pay-per-view website, and my buddy? “Oh, that’s approved. Have a nice night.” I paid for dinner, even though I was supposed to be the guest. Two Sagittarius fellows. One bill. Mysterious debt. Mystery solved. My buddy? He has just enough shame to blush when he said the name of the “adult” site, but the rest of the tale? Not a problem. Or is it? Like the opening quote, a little further investigation is sometimes in order before we start making idle threats. “Don’t make me stop this car.” “Uh, Kramer? I’m driving.”
Capricorn: I had an idea about how to package up important life lessons, and I was going to call it “Everything I needed to know I learned from my cat.” Started out easy enough, and I regret that it’s been done by some other author. The first lesson was simple, “When in doubt, take a nap.” Basically, the message can get wrapped up with a simple existence, sleep, eat, sleep some more. Maybe stand at the open doorway and try to decide whether you should be inside or out, but no matter what the situation, nothing beats a little nap. It seems like your existence and the cat-like qualities go hand-in-hand, or paw-in-paw. There’s a host of other options that go with this idea, but the nap is the central part. Wake up, test the food in the dish, go back to sleep. When I come back in another life, I want to be a well cared-for house cat. It’s the good life. Regrettably, there are some disturbances in the cat-like routine for Capricorn, but it’s a good model to follow. Eat, sleep, play with the sand in the litter box, and eat some more. Te real trick, and I’m borrowing from the cat text again, is not to spend too much time playing with that litter box sand. Or similar products.
Aquarius: The days are longer, spring has sprung, and the local outdoor activity is picking up its pace. I saw something, late the other afternoon, that seemed like a holdover from winter. It was dusk, and I was heading home from fishing alongside a certain creek, and I was wandering with a long crappie pole in one hand, and my shirt in the other hand. Along goes a bicyclist, hunched over the handlebars, head down, helmet parting the air stream. Zip-tied to the side of the helmet? A pencil-thin flashlight. Odd combination and a little out of place in the late dusk twilight, not really necessary. Most of the trail is lighted, in one form or another, and I doubt that the little headlamp would provide that much illumination. But whatever. Just looked a tad odd. Even to me. Understand what the point is, too, I’m not suggesting that you zip-tie a flashlight to your headgear. But if you’ve got a device, like a flashlight, and if you need that light shining in a useful place? Maybe attaching it to some headwear isn’t such a bad idea. Some of us might mock you, but if it gets the job done, no matter how inelegant, then it gets the job. Ignore the naysayers and pundits.
Pisces: People — humanity in general — makes snap decisions about appearances. I’m as guilty as the next person. I’d stopped to talk a pair of anglers, gentlemen of a certain persuasion, and one of them pulled up a stringer with two fish, a decent carp (ten or plus pounds), and a normal bass, about three pounds. According to the two guys, though, that bass weighed seven pounds and the carp was over twenty pounds. I’m not saying that the two guys were stretching the truth, for all I know, maybe they had a scale that read those weights. I can tell, though, from the size of the bass, I know its weight. Anyway, after some bragging, I asked about what bait they were using, what with two lines in the water. There were using plain old worms. Which led to a joke about buying some kind of zip-lock baggie with “carp power bait,’ and how that stuff didn’t work. “So you paid how much for a tiny baggie of this stuff?” I asked. My tone alone, plus the emphasis, generated a good belly laugh from the younger of the two guys. He got the joke. The older guy, he just looked quizzical, and I might have touched nerve. Or he didn’t get the joke. Or, he got the joke, but he didn’t like the cultural implications. I hope, as the week flows by, you encounter some people you share a joke with. I’m pretty sure you will. But like that pair, don’t be upset if the joke is only 50% successful.
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copyright (c) 2005, 2006 Kramer Wetzel, for astrofish.net
