For the Week starting: 2.1.2007
"Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast."
Shakespeare’s Pericles, Prince of Tyre [II.iii.9]
Upcoming events, information is here.
Aquarius: Cops on TV and in the movies? It’s rarely, if ever, really like that. I’ve got a number of Law Enforcement Officials as clients. And that’s got to be one of the biggest complaints, what TV and "reality" shows do to their business. It’s a skewed perception, that’s for sure. The medium, in some respects, actually shows what the officers go through, but in other aspects? Like with certain crime scene investigation shows? There’s a missing point.
One officer was complaining, "I can’t just take a microscopic fleck of paint from a damaged rearview mirror and identify the make, model, color, year, or, for that matter, come up with a driver’s description, just to make an insurance claim for mirror that was hit while the car was probably illegally parked. These people have been watching too much TV."
It’s birthday time in Aquarius, and there are expectations. Rightfully so. But are all of those expectation rational? I’m not about to suggest that you shouldn’t thoroughly enjoy the birthday parties, that’s almost a lock. But as the rest? Imagine you’re a little like that officer, with a citizen expecting a complete forensic work-up for a minor infraction.
Pisces: Make a wish. I’m not suggesting some vague inspiration, I’m suggesting a wish for something personal, a dream, a goal, a desire, a single thing that you want. Hold that thought for a second. Venus is in Pisces and she’s headed towards a line-up with Uranus, also in Pisces, naturally. Happens next week. It’s the weirdest sort of event, at least, from my perspective, it’s a weird one. Now then, work that Pisces magic, the ability to manifest just what you want. Hold that thought, that wish, remember?
Okay, here’s the ticklish point, see, the planets, the Universe, whomever (or whatever) you wish upon? That’s going to happen. Okay, here’s the planet influence that I’m looking at Venus and Uranus, basically. What happens? That wish will not come true, not as you designated it. The more concrete the wish, the better it will be, but I’m here to prepare you a little, the Universe, the planets, whatever (or whomever) you wish upon? It has a sense of humor.
Wish is delivered, but not in the form that you think it should be delivered. Or not the right "how," or maybe the cosmic ordering system got messed up somehow. In fact, I don’t think the order-taker got it wrong, and in another week? That wish, as delivered? It will be perfect. But it’s matter of understanding that sometimes, what you think you want and what you really want (or need), is slightly different. Or very different. That wish? The ultimate goal? If you work towards it, it will happen.
Aries: Talking to a cop, along the Riverwalk in San Antonio, I was asking what were the weirdest questions he got. He was a little hesitant to answer me, at first, I was just another strange tourist, maybe trying to trick him or something, but I was just being my usual, inquisitive self. I persisted in a kind manner, and eventually, the cop started to unload with stories about drunks falling in the river. This, in and of itself, isn’t news. What happened next, though, as he was explaining, "going for a swim, on purpose or by accident, and you go to jail plus a hefty fine, and."
Splash.
Not ten feet away, a person who had probably consumed too much was floundering in the water. The cop hustled off to tend to business. I loitered for a few minutes, on the opposite bank, and sure enough, the wet patron was wearing a new set of handcuffs pretty soon. January isn’t exactly a good month for swimming, not if you ask me. I didn’t hang around to find out the cop’s sign, the swimmer’s sign, or any other data. In my mind, though, I was figuring that the cop was an Aries, based on the way he warmed to the task of talking to a tourist and then, based on the manner in which he handled the swimming situation. He was good guy, that Riverwalk cop. I tend to envision a scene where you’re the cop, talking about something, and splash, it happens. But if you don’t watch your step, you could also fall in the river. Don’t say I didn’t try and warn you.
Taurus: For many years, San Antonio was rated as "the most haunted city in America," and that’s not a claim I’d argue with. One particular hotel, the Menger, has more tales than I care to relate. Rough riders, cowboys, cattle drives, cattle barons, the whole shooting match is there. As a bonus, the ghosts are included. Dig around in a little history, though, and the old hotel gives up its real secret, it’s right next door to the Alamo. Yeah, that Alamo.
If the ghost stories are true, I have to wonder what part suggestive imagination plays with the tales, but if some of the spirits are really there? I’d look a little deeper than a century-old building, and go to the roots. The Alamo. Again, I’m firmly straddling the fence here, because I’ve not seen — or felt — the purported ghosts in the hotel. But I do know a little bit of local history, and the plaza, the park around that location is a kind of holy ground. What this is really about, what’s the message intended for Taurus? It’s about digging through the stories, legends and myths, and getting to what’s the underlying evidence. If the ghosts are real? I wonder how many of them are from the hotel itself, and what stories predate the construction of that building? Look underneath the tale itself and find the roots.
Gemini: It’s good, but some things just seem backwards. My trailer has a stove top and rather tiny "oven" space thing, under the stove’s burners. I believe this is a common arrangement, but kitchen design is not one of my areas of expertise. If a kitchen task doesn’t involve making water hot or grinding coffee beans, then I’m pretty much at a loss. (I can cook, I choose not to do so — trust me, just easier — and safer — that way.) But this isn’t about instant gratification in the kitchen, it’s about a series of events in Gemini land that don’t seem to add up quite the way you think they events should come out.
I’ve lived here long enough to be used to the idiosyncrasies of my living space. To wit, the refrigerator doesn’t have a light. Use it most near daily, no light. Ever. Can’t find the bulb, and therefore, I can’t replace what I can’t find. However, the oven, which I use to store miscellaneous (unused) kitchen stuff? It has a bulb. That works. One works, one doesn’t perhaps, the opposite of the way it should be, too. Not that it matters to me. Part of the place’s "charm," and that term is used rather loosely. Part of the Gemini charm, too? Note what works, what doesn’t, but then, in the final analysis, does any of this really need to be fixed? Or is it just Gemini "charm"? I’d go with the charm, and don’t fix anything that doesn’t need fixing.
Cancer: Mars is loping along in Capricorn, and that’s having an impact on the Cancer psyche. Mars, when he’s in opposition to your sign, he works as an irritant. He quickens the blood, engages and enrages. Quick tempers, too. Mars hasten actions. Mars, like this, can also make for problems. Big problems. Or little problems, which, in a fit of pique, a Cancer can turn into big problems. And no Cancer needs big problems at this moment.
Imagine that you’re face-to-face with a situation, and I’m using that term loosely, but here’s a situation, and you’re thinking a fast comeback, a quick answer, a snide comment or two, maybe a sarcastic suggestion is called for. Stop. Think about Mars. Think about his action and your reaction to his action. Stop. Think it over. Although I’m sure more than one sweet Cancer will protest (too much) that a definitive act is called for, I’m still suggesting that you sit on it.
Stop. Think. I’ve discovered that my best comeback lines usually occur to me, about three to five minutes after the optimal time to deliver just such a line. There has to be balance and symmetry, and the right riposte requires a delicate touch. One that you have. Usually. So pad your timing by just three or five minutes, if you can. Saves a lot of trouble from Mars-inspired troubles.
Leo: Nothing’s worse than leaving a Leo confused. It’s not a good course of action. Or inaction. However, as I looked at the way this horoscope starts out, what with the Sun lining up with Neptune, there’s going to be a degree of excitement. There’s a point here, too, a place where what’s really true, and what appears to be true, wherein all that gets confused.
Obfuscated. Buried. Covered up. I can’t make this alignment in your chart any easier to deal with. But I can suggest that you wait until after this weekend, wait until after the dust settles, wait until a time when you can see the problem — and its solution — much more clearly. It’s great time for being in touch with the "other realms," like an artistic endeavor or similar kind of divine inspiration; however, given the fickle nature of the real world, there’s bound to be a problem with that kind of divine inspiration.
I’m pretty sure that most Leo folks I encounter, and that includes the one Leo, are divine. But that doesn’t mean that the other folks you encounter will understand. You’re going to be a little spacey, and then, after it’s all over, you’re going to be a little let down as you re-enter the real world. Be prepared.
Virgo: No sooner does the new year ring in, and then, all of the advertising switches gears, to VD. Which is up and coming. Venus is in Pisces, opposite from Virgo. So is Uranus. And those two planets line up with each other, next week. Which has a lot to do with VD. See, this is a romance tickle. No, it doesn’t guarantee that the one person you’ve had your sights (or sites) set on will materialize, but it does give an indication that there’s something strange afoot in the romance arena of the Life Virgo.
The internet is wild and wooly place. Perfect example, a call I got the other day, "Dude, dude, you’re not going to believe this one, it’s like, my high school sweetheart found me. After (xxx) years! Can you believe that!" September Virgo. Uranus and Venus, headed towards each other? Sure I can believe that. Besides, no Virgo makes up stories that weird. So I can believe the purported facts, and the best I can do is warn you. Not this weekend, but before the scopes roll over again? Yeah, strange things are afoot at the Circle K. Or the Virgo ranch, wherever.
Libra: "Look honey," I said, as we were seated at a table in a traditional Tex-Mex place, "it’s ‘our table,’ right by the piñata." Roll of the Libra eyes. See, in a number of the places where I prefer to dine, there are piñatas, strings of Xmas lights, and colorful black velvet paintings. Traditional accouterments of a Tex-Mex palace. No big deal, I consider it a décor that I’m at home with.
The reason my comment elicited another roll of the Libra eyes is that, I think that weekend, we were in nothing but places that all sported the same decorations. Didn’t fool her one bit, she was used to the idea that I was trying to personalize a place. She also wasn’t having anything to do with my running commentary. It’s not me, not really, it’s the way the planets are stacked up in Libra. Or rather, the way the planets are stacked up elsewhere, and the impact on the Libra’s sensibilities. There’s a certain amount of condescension and while I’m patient and understanding, I’m not so sure everyone else is. That’s the little challenge for the next few days. Act as if you care. Doesn’t hurt.
Scorpio: I was working with a client, and the situation called for a quick analogy to illustrate a point. I quipped, "Yes, not anyone can paint this fence." I had to check to make sure I was understood. The client responded, "Yes, Huck Finn." Actually, it’s Tom Sawyer, not Huck Finn, but the author attribution is correct, Samuel Clemmons, better known as Mark Twain (and a Sagittarius), but with humor like that? Could’ve been a Scorpio.
I’m also being stupid about details here. That’s not so unusual, me being stupid about certain details, or getting worrisome over some minor point in American Literature. And that misses the whole point for Scorpio. I’m expecting you to have a situation wherein the usual Scorpio guile and dry delivery will work wonders.
In the chapter from the book, Tom has to paint a fence, and instead of approaching the job as a job, he markets it as a task not anyone can do, hence enhancing the perceived value of the job. Work became a commodity, and the protagonist reaped fiscal rewards for his part. Sometimes, like with Scorpio, it’s not what the task at hand is, it’s how you approach this job. Hence my expression, and you can use it, too, "Not anyone can paint this fence."
Sagittarius: There’s a restaurant, close to me, and I wandered in the other afternoon, trying to hit that time between the lunch and supper crowds. I ordered up something, probably chicken-fried, but I don’t recall. There was a large crowd at another table, and the group was raucous, in a quiet way. I perused a free weekly newspaper of some sort, made notes, and chatted briefly with the Capricorn server (about Mars influences). He attended the other table, took a dessert order, then popped back around with big bowl of "peach cobbler," covered, and when I say "covered," I mean "spilling over the edge," in ice cream.
I couldn’t begin to calculate the caloric intake from such a serving. Looked to be the equivalent of about three servings, stuffed into a single bowl. Too much cobbler then too much ice cream. As he walked past my table, he whispered, "Devil’s Dessert," and rolled his eyes a little. I suppose that means something in restaurant-employee speak, but I’m not sure what.
What I do know, like that loud table nearby? Like that obviously "too much of a good thing" dessert? Skip it. Mars is not in our sign, and none of us Sagittarius types belong eating something like that. Or even thinking about it. Although the cobbler and the ice cream, Mexican Vanilla, sure is a good a combination. Avoid temptations. But it sure would’ve been good after lunch.
Capricorn: I was wandering along the hike and bike trial, headed downtown to meet a client, and it was a warm January afternoon, warm enough, plus with a stiff breeze, to fly a kite. In fact, several kite fliers were out. I paused and watched, as these were those really cool kites, parafoil, aerodynamic, wing-thing, colored cloth and long strings, swooping, tugging, pulling. I watched as one guy worked a kite, a big kite, must’ve been close to three feet across, and there were two control lines. The winged-wonder swooped, dove, sailed, skittered, and at least once, at the behest of the guy at the controls, the kite collapse on itself and then re-inflated.
Amusing to watch, for a few moments. As I also glanced at the guy with the kite, jeans and a T-shirt, and I noted how his forearms were bulging. His muscles were straining to hold onto that kite. As I ambled off towards my appointed rounds, I thought about that kite, the bulging muscles, and so on. Thought about Capricorn and Mars. Then I thought about how a kite like that, me, on the south shore of the river, how I could drag a fishing line to the north shore and work it back slowly.
I know there’s a branch of "kite-fishing," but I’ve never investigated it. But all that work, those bulging muscles, just to fly a kite? Seemed like a lot of work. I might’ve missed the whole point. Mars makes you like me, sometimes we miss the point because we’re in too big of hurry. Careful with Mars.
