"A wretched, puling fool, A whining mammet…"
Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet [III.v.185-6]
(It’s Lady Capulet talking about Juliet’s refusal to marry the guy she’s supposed to marry. Although, the comment could be applied to me, too.)
Travel schedule is here.
Capricorn: Happy birthday to that one Capricorn, and belated birthday wishes to the other, dude, sorry I forgot — a present is in the mail, no, really. As I was getting out of the shower, I saw something that I’m used to seeing, but it makes an excellent way to explain how the planets’ energies are affecting the Capricorn slice of the heavenly Pecan Pie.
On the cold winter mornings, the shower stall fogs up the bathroom’s mirror, but there are limits and gradients. When it’s cold outside, it tends to be cold in here, too. Which causes the mirror to display the condensation down to the point where the temperature gradient is most obvious. In other words, the top 20% or so of the mirror is steamed over, but the bottom portion is still clear. It’s that line, that point between warm and cold, where the little miniature weather pattern that forms alongside my bathroom door, that’s what visible, right at that line. It’s about yea-high on me, as I gesture with my hands.
As a science observation, the foggy part of the mirror is the top portion of the image, and some physicist can explain the mechanics of how and why it’s just the top portion of the mirror that’s steamed up. As I was looking and wondering about temperature, thermal inclines, ambient atmosphere and so forth, I realized that the steamed up section was my face. In a few minutes, the reflection will be clear again. In Capricorn, just give it enough time for the fog to dissipate. Give it enough time for the tiny bathroom weather pattern to clear. Then you’ll be able to see what you’re looking for.
Aquarius: It’s a law, or one of those funny rules, or something akin to that, I’m guessing. It’s called "The Osborne Effect," and cursory research indicates it’s more along the lines of a myth than a real issue. The Osborne Effect came about when Osborne Computers announced new models that were vastly superior to the current line, leading to a rapid and dwindling demand for product that was on the shelf at the moment, and the whole event spelled the end to the Osborne Computer business. Check it out, that’s the capsulated version.
I’m just worried that your Aquarius self is making one too many promises for the new year, perhaps along the lines of hopeless new year resolutions, perhaps business or socially-related, but still. "This is the year I’m going to give up fatty foods, cigars and coffee. Plus I’m going to exercise more." If I were to hear that, I’d ponder the idea, glance wistfully at the heavens, and wish my fine Aquarius brethren the best of luck. I’d shoot for something more reasonable, and given the political climate? I’d plan on more exercise. The rest? The diet and other health concerns? I’d go easy on proclamations like that.
Pisces: "Arguably, urine and whisky both have similar, if not identical antiseptic qualities," a buddy of mine was explaining, while nursing shot of the self-same whisky, "but you’ve got to be careful about which one you choose to use in minor emergency situation." Either one, whisky or urine, comes under the folk-remedy version of the situation, and maybe one that’s not medically approved. But that’s not a concern; realize it’s more along the lines of a folk remedy.
Which is, given Mr. Mars and Mr. Jupiter, both in Sagittarius, a solution to a problem. It’s not about trying to find a permanent way to solve a problem, it’s more about a quick patch to help you get through the rest of the afternoon with a minimal interruption to the Pisces life. Folksy fixes are useful. Those two planets are going to cause a little havoc with the within the Pisces sphere of influence. As such, a quick remedy is sometimes better because it can be applied immediately. There is one caution, though. "Too bad I didn’t learn about other solutions," he further mused, "now I can’t ever go in that Wal-Mart again."
Aries: One of the items I seem to receive a lot of? Coffee gift cards. And for what it’s worth? I like ’em. I was cashing one in the other afternoon, and I didn’t recognize one of the new kids working, but the other one, a Scorpio, or maybe a Sagittarius, I knew her. We enjoyed a bit of banter, then I handed my card over to the new kid.
He ran it through the cash register, and the card couldn’t cover all I wanted, a large coffee and a small blueberry muffin. I knew that, and I was waving cash in my hand. He looked at me. He looked at the register. He grimaced. He glanced sideways at the other worker. He looked back at the machine. He was befuddled. He looked back at the other worker. He just stood there, doing nothing. He had this look, like, "It’s my first day, and every transaction requires I ask for assistance. I can’t. I just can’t."
Consider that he didn’t actually say that, but his look, the way he stared at the register, the glances back and forth from register, to me, to the blueberry muffin, to the other worker, it spoke volumes. The other person? She handed me my drink, then stepped to the register and straightened out the mess. She’s not an Aries, really, but for the sake of illustration? Think. You can be either, but the guy who wouldn’t ask for help? That looks bad.
Taurus: As I was crossing one of the bridges that spans the Colorado River, I noticed a dog, a good bird dog, swimming along at full speed — full dog-speed. There was a duck being chased by that dog. Only, the duck wasn’t particularly hurried, as the fastest the dog could swim amounted to not much more than a waddle to the duck. What was amusing, to me, in as much I’m more an observer of human nature, was the owner, tirelessly, fearlessly hollering at the stupid dog who was chasing a stupid duck, out in the stupid river.
The dog was apparently a little hard-of-hearing at that time. Or, I suspect, not inclined to acquiesce to the boss’s commands. Eventually, the dog gave up the chase and returned to shore, albeit "a fur piece" from where the adventure started.
Okay, Mars and Jupiter, in Sagittarius. When that dog landed, he was greeted with a severe verbal dressing down. It’s a bird dog. It chases feathered critters. It’s what it does. It’s genetically encoded to do so. Can’t keep from doing it. So the master, the boss, was being cruel to a dog that was just acting on impulse. If it were me, and if I were more of a dog person (I’m not), I’d suggest that the dog get a hearty welcome and a treat for almost catching that mean duck, "almost got ’em boy, way to go!" But it wasn’t me. It’s all about what you expect to get from the planets’ disposition, and what the boss really does. Which doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t go ahead and act on Taurus impulse and chase that water fowl.
Gemini: I got in the habit of grabbing pictures, digital images, really, when I walk. And I have, in the past, had a tendency to walk a lot — cover a lot of Austin on foot. On the South First Street bridge, there’s a huge expanse of wall, down below street level, where, obviously, a number of graffiti artists have discovered a canvas. And since the cars can’t see the artwork, I’ve found that it usually doesn’t get covered up too fast. It’s not like tagging a building downtown, or some more public place, although, in fairness, it is a very visible place, as it’s part of the hike and bike trail.
To that end, I’ve found some engaging artwork along those walls. When I do find something I like, perhaps a literate quote, or a message to "eat more carrots," I’ve grabbed an image of the graffiti. There one day, and then, in as little as one day, or infrequently, like some of it stays up for weeks at time, but still, sooner or later, some city employee (I’m guessing), comes along and slathers paint over the artwork. So I’ve found this to be a transient and impermanent form of artwork, despite the material, indelible marker on concrete, or spray paint, or, on one occasion recently, artist’s crayon.
It’s the highly volatile nature of the artwork, though. There one day, the next? Covered up by the city’s whitewash of tan bridge paint. Some of the artwork is up for weeks or even months, whereas some of it is gone overnight, by my estimation. It’s perfect Gemini type of medium, perfect Gemini media. No way of telling how permanent the collection might be? That’s the point.
Cancer: Couple of weeks ago, it was Xmas season, remember? Okay, you want to forget about it. But I was thinking about you as I went through a familiar routine. I plucked a "notice of package being held for you at the counter" slip from my PO Box*, and the holiday line was too long to bother with, so I just waited until another day, when I could afford to spend 45 minutes to retrieve whatever it was. I wandered in, that fateful and cold December day, and I stood in line, waiting on the package. After I fetched up the package, really too large to be folded over and stuffed in the PO box — the box actually held a manuscript for me to read and critique — I went and got the mail from the box.
Another notice, another package and another wait in a line that almost stretched out the front door.
This one was a late birthday gift, really, happens to those of us born in late November. A more prudent course of action would’ve been to check the box then stand in line just once. Far be it for me to act in a prudent manner, though. However, given the planets, and the new year, can I suggest that you not repeat my mistake? No reason for our fine little Cancer selves to have to wait in the same line, twice, when only one delay will do. Don’t repeat my process and my mistakes.
*astrofish.net – P.O. Box 830657, San Antonio, TX 78283
Leo: I’ll guess that it was part of left-over Xmas thing, but I’m unsure, maybe it was just an item I’d never seen before in the "muffin display case." Green muffins. I’m not color-blind, per se, but as an alpha-type male, color isn’t one of my strengths. To me, sure enough, those muffins in the case looked green. I thought it was something left from the holidays, maybe a green muffin and red muffin, next to each other? I had to ask, "What are the green ones?" "Pistachio," was the curt answer. That made sense, I guess, I’m not much for food colors, other than the traditional Xmas enchiladas, red and green chili, but I can have those enchiladas year-round.
The green color didn’t look all that natural to me; however, it could have been, for all I know about food colors. With the relative positions of certain planets, and how those planets impact the Leo psyche, it’s a little like discovering a green muffin in the display case. Then, upon further investigation, discovering that the green muffins are supposedly a good thing, as opposed to something that’s just been sitting there too long. At one point, though, you’re going to feel like that green muffin, leftover from the holidays, and perhaps a little under-appreciated. Further investigation by any non-Leo person would help. Can’t count on it, though. I happen to know that Leo’s are the best, but then, I’m inclined to be a minority.
Virgo: This didn’t really happen, and no Virgos were harmed in the writing of this scope. But what I imagined, pure imagination, purely a fictional piece, is that I was about to walk out for a cup of coffee, out of the trailer park, and I was attending a certain Virgo resident. Her trailer door is open, she turns on her heels at the last minute, to get something back inside, then spins around to step out the door and she launches herself right down the steps, both of them, of her trailer.
Didn’t really happen, and if it did happen? We would use a highly skilled and trained professional stunt Virgo to do the actual fall.
The trailer’s tiny door sill caught her heel, or maybe it was the carefully placed doormat. If I hadn’t seen it, no one would know, except that her knee was a little scraped, and there was telltale dirt on her hands. But it didn’t really happen. I rushed to be of assistance, fictional, of course, and I helped her up, and we stepped next door for BBQ. Or coffee and conversation, something. Virgo is bubbly, vivacious, and tad more clumsy than usual. It’s a Sagittarius influence, and that can’t be helped. What you can do is slow yourself down, long enough to figure out if your heel is caught in the doormat, or if those cowboy boots are catching on the door’s sill. If I’d just been a little closer? That Virgo would’ve fallen into my arms. If you’re not careful, you will miss the timing, and fall flat.
Libra: It was a 1977 Lincoln Mark V. Looked a little beat up, a vehicle from an era gone by. Good tires, front license plate folded under the front bumper, and when the guy hopped in and started it up, he didn’t like the sound the engine made, and shut it off almost as fast as he slipped out and popped the hood. "Choke’s stuck, it happens."
Under the hood, sitting on the fan’s shroud, there were two screwdrivers, like, they lived there. Or something. Stored for easy access. With a practiced move, the air cleaner came off, the guy made a few adjustments, and then tried the motor again, it idled like it was supposed to, he replaced the air filter and screw drivers, and slammed the hood shut. Up and running again.
He dropped it back into a to gear and motored on out of the parking lot. I just stood to one side and observed. I thought about Libra’s chart. It’s about making a practiced move. It’s about doing a little repair that you’re normally prepared for, and everything runs again. "There, sounds like it should be, now."
Scorpio: Actual e-mail (from a Scorpio): "I kept reading how good last year was supposed to be and it SUCKED. Big time. So you’d better make a nice prediction for my year, this time, and it’d better come through, too." I’m amused by threats, and I took the tone of the note to be one of bitter acknowledgment that I had hit a item or two in the last year spot-on for the Scorpio crowd. There was the good, the bad, and something else. Last year, in my case, even last week, is nothing but a faded memory.
The coming year holds a lot of promise for my fine Scorpio friend. What I would call your attention to, is the phase of the moon, plus I’ll work on a few other extraneous influences, but right after the moon is full? Put a stopper in the Scorpio mouth. Saccharine and sage communications skills suddenly spin sour. While I do enjoy the artful display of wit, not everyone is of my ilk, and not everyone can appreciate what the truly ironic and dry delivery. Therein is the problem. It’s good for about the first half of the days involved, but after that? Maybe keep it to yourself, even though I’ll find it very amusing. Not everyone can appreciate your fine, dry wit.
Sagittarius: After Christmas shopping, I picked up a pair of new jeans. What I did, I simply asked the clerk to look at the tag on the back of the jeans I had on, read out the size, and then I picked up another pair, on sale, same size as what the tag said.
I’m a little weird, but I like to wash my clothes, fresh from the store, before I wear them. So it wasn’t until a couple of days later that I got around to pulling on those new jeans. Seemed a little tight around the waist, as if the jeans had already shrunk a size. There was comical moment as I struggled with the top waist button, wondering if I was getting fat. Then I realized that they were new jeans, and as such, a little tight to start out.
The new year is like that, too, a little tight, and maybe, not in flattering way. Doesn’t mean that, after a few days, the year won’t wear well. Just getting into the new year, though? That’s like those new jeans, which, supposedly, are exactly the same size I’m used to wearing.
