"I am a feather for each wind that blows."
Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale [II.iii.185]
Upcoming events, information is here.
Aries: I was in the fishing aisle of a super store. There was a single, desultory guy, reordering tackle, generally straightening up customers’ messes. I fingered some tackle, put it back, and he glanced up at me, and I had to ask, "What’s the strangest thing a customer has asked for lately?"
"Strangest thing? I’m not making this up, last year, right after deer season opened? Guy came in looking for camo diapers." The guy went back to adding order to the hanging leaders. It’s Aries time, with some important birthdays rapidly approaching. Mars is separating from a rolling collision course (astrologically speaking) with Neptune. I doubt you’re looking for camo diapers. Or camouflage patterns in attire. Probably just the item you’re not looking for. But that won’t stop you from asking the question. Or better yet, it’s a question you asked months ago, and it’s back to haunt you. Ever get that feeling you just want to say, "I told you so"?
Taurus: The usual waitress hadn’t waited on me so I had to fake it and try to order from the menu. I usually get what amounts to dried beef mixed with scrambled eggs and various peppers. To get the peppers included, the dish is called ‘a al Mexicana," and since the regular girl didn’t wait on me, when I ordered, I neglected to use the correct terminology. No hot spices, none of the material, none of the spices or peppers, and no one to blame but myself.
That’s the problem with getting a rut, or usual grind, and even if there isn’t the usual elements, something is going to come along and shake you out of that situation. Disturb the subtle peace and tranquility you’ve worked hard to obtain. How bad is this going to be? Only as difficult as your Taurus self decided to make it. Me? I found a quick solution, that one place, they have the greatest fairly fresh and homemade "salsa verde," green sauce. Hot. A couple of spoonfuls of that stuff, and the problem was corrected. My mistake was easily remedied. I’m not saying that you just need to add a little hot sauce, but there is an easy way to correct over sights.
Gemini: I was picking up some experimental catfish bait, looking at the packages, and I was trying to decide what would be the first experiment. I heard a rustle behind me, and it was a clerk. Older gentleman, actually. He looked at what I had in my hand, and he suggested "blood bait." I looked quizzical, I might’ve said, "Huh?" but I’m not sure. He went on to explain the virtues of chicken blood as bait, how the chicken blood liver nuggets would catch, and I quote, "Anything and everything." I pulled a package from the shelf.
Thus
far, I’ve not had any luck with the liver blood nuggets. But that could be me. I’m not really too into this whole catfish experience. The clerk continued though, and he allowed as how the best catfish bait came from Nixon, Texas. Supposedly, the guy who made the bait was just across the street from a chicken rendering plant thereby insuring a good quantity of raw materials. The mention of small town’s name jogged my memory — DQ there, and just down the street? The Nixon Courts, more of a sign than a real set of tourist courts.
And why the name of the town jiggled something loose in my mind. Mars and Venus, like that guy telling me about bait, jogged something loose in the Gemini brain. The full moon kicks that idea into gear. Now, if I can just find the picture I’ve got from Nixon, TX, then I’m all set.
Cancer: Out of the mouth of children? How did that used to go? Children say the darnedest things? I got this story second-hand, but it illustrates what’s happening in Cancer land. A friend (of a friend) was at the coast, and they had the children in tow, and one of the children was a tow-headed Cancer, and that child, in the middle of crowded restaurant, wanted to know how much the those condoms cost, as she wanted to buy one when she grew up.
What she meant was how much do the condominiums cost, but what popped out of her mouth was condom. Embarrassing moment? If I recall the story correctly, the kid was about 8, and a darling little girl. Angelic, at that time. There was stifled laughter, I’m guessing. Or parental blushing, I’m not sure which. Either way, it was amusing. But it points to the problem in Cancer land and the issue at hand, is all about misappropriation of words, meanings, and a little bit of shame. It’s a planet thing, though. Later, perhaps much later, the story wil be funny. At the time of the incident, not so much.
Leo: I stepped outside a motel in West Texas. I must’ve been at work or something. In the back parking lot, out behind the pool, but in front of the train tracks, there was a single pick-up parked in the middle of the lot, and a horse trailer — with an occupant — was sitting in the middle of the March afternoon. Mare, I think, part, if not all, Arabian. It was a double-wide horse trailer, so the single pony had plenty of room. But still, I could hear the horse stamp its hooves. A little impatient. Wanting to stretch its legs. Maybe just move anything, Maybe there were some flies. Or maybe standing in a horse trailer for an hour or more is uncomfortable.
I didn’t check the parking lot the night before, not the back one, so I couldn’t say that the trailer had been there that long. But listening to that mare stomp impatiently reminded me of a certain Leo, The Leo, and how the planets are not just providing the welcome relief fast enough. I’m sure you feel a little like that horse, stuffed into a tiny trailer. It’s an enclosed space, and you’re not happy; however, there is a degree of hope. The final destination, eventually, promises wide open spaces, plenty of pasture, and room to run. We’re almost there. Just a few more miles in the horse trailer, I hope.
Virgo: The lake — or river — in front of Shady Acres is private access. And it’s reserved for residents only. The other evening, a neighbor was showing the place to a buddy, and the guy decided that he wanted to try fishing here. Friend of a friend, a guest. That’s okay. Then the guest asked me if it was okay. I checked out what he was fishing for, and how he was going to do it all: carp fishing. European style carp fishing. That’s welcome.
We’re not angling for the same fish, and the camaraderie is welcome. So imagine that your next couple of days is like an evening, under the stars, couple of fishing lines in the lake. The European carp fishing arrangement included a little buzzer on the line, to alert the fisherman about movement. We were sitting, there, me with a worm in shallow, him with his lines way far out, and the buzzer blipped. Just a bat, that time. In the spirit of cooperation. Just an errant bat with misguided radar, I’m sure. Not hunting the same thing? All good, and very welcome, too.
Libra: I was meandering along in an old pick-up truck, going some place in the Hill Country, just west of Austin. "Ooo, this is a winding road, pretty scary," the girl sitting next to me observed. Can’t say I agreed. I laughed. Perhaps it wasn’t the most politic move on my part, but it wasn’t, by my standards, a winding road.
Meandering, maybe, not exactly a straight line, but it wasn’t hairpin switchbacks, and therefore, it wasn’t a winding road. But the mileage, per person, may vary. It’s all about what standards are used to judge a given situation. By that little Texas gal’s sentiment, it was a winding road, full of curves. By my more international standards, a winding road is something in the Swiss Alps, or even just up in Colorado, where they build roads in places even some mules are smart enough not to go. Or the California coastline. But for that little Texas gal? That was a dangerous two-lane, fraught with hidden problems around each curve. All depends on how one looks at what’s up ahead. It is a winding road in Libra.
Scorpio: Next week, Mars moves on into Pisces, but not until after another batch of horoscopes roll over. Timing on this is a little important, see, Mars is still in Aquarius, and Mars is still setting up some uncomfortable energy for the Scorpio section. How you choose to deal with Mars is what determines how well it will go, in the weeks that follow.
Mars is headed from "tough" to "tame," but this transition, and how effectively you deal with the next couple of days, deals with the long-range effect. How hard are you going to make it on yourself, right now, and what can you do — what Scorpio action is called for — to make this easier in the long run?
I can’t address each and every permutation in a simple scope — and what is called for — but as a theme, there’s usually one, usually disagreeable task, that needs to be accomplished. Doing that one thing that you really don’t want to do, but should do anyway? All I’m suggesting is there’s about 8 days from the beginning of this scope — check the date — to get that one problem licked. After that? Assuming you get it done? Then you’re good to go.
Sagittarius: Lazy Sagittarius is a problem. We can, on occasion, get to be really lazy. I’m an expert, so I can easily address this type of an issue. I can also rationalize actions — or inactions — as "work" even though it looks like rest to a number of people. What this is all about — it’s a subtle reminder, a like gentle kick in the butt, to do something.
Complacent inaction is not really a good option. It’s appealing, but not always a correct choice.
There’s a more than one hint that life in Sagittarius is just as exciting and wonderful as you want it to be. Grab a fishing pole, if nothing else, and hit the creek. I was doing a little sight fishing, that’s where I can see my target, but likewise, my target can see me. It’s an amusing game I play. I keep trying to come up with a combination that the fish hasn’t seen. Bit of a challenge. Keeps me on my toes. All this involves work, movement and action. Plus trying to figure out something my little friendly fish haven’t seen.
Capricorn: Sharp hooks — the greatest fishing secret I know of. I’m not kidding, I can catch more fish if I’m using a sharp hook. The hooks can be chemically sharpened, laser edge sharpened, or I can do it myself on an old whetstone I’ve got. The results are the same, though, and the point is the point.
Doesn’t matter what kind of fish I’m trying to catch, whether it’s a food source, or sport, the biggest, the single most important piece of equipment is the item that makes the first contact. There are tons of different kinds of hooks. Size, shape, color, tensile strength, marketing, it plays an important part. But what’s most important is how sharp the needle-like point is.
Dull point? Either sharpen the hook or toss it. One or the other. Get something else out of the tackle box.
Aquarius: There’s this Aquarius guy I know, I mean, I’ve met him in passing, at a party, on the street, where he used to work, after a while, it’s obvious that I’m going to run into this guy from time to time. He nods with a familiarity, and there’s a haunted look to him, like, we’re supposed to know each other, but we don’t.
I know him via his various employments, through casually attending parties, and I could recite a few details about his astrology chart. Aquarius is the basic sign, though, and that’s all that matters. There’s that haunting familiarity floating along in Aquarius these days. Some folks think, assume, nod, but no one, least of all Aquarius, can put a finger on the influence. I can point to the influence, though, as it’s particular arrangement of planets in your chart. Just nod, it’s a lot easier.
Pisces: To some folks, oysters are an excellent meal. Allegedly, the little shellfish function as an aphrodisiac, too. Chew or swallow oysters? Me? I’m inclined to chew as I figure that’s the only way to really get the full flavor. I tend to mix up a horseradish/cayenne pepper sauce instead of the regular cocktail sauce for raw oyster. But the first one? Always raw. Chew. But that’s me, and I’m not a Pisces — although — I’d be willing to play on TV.
The distinction isn’t about whether you chew or swallow the shellfish, though, it’s about your approach to challenges. Mars is on his final approach to Pisces, but he’s not here — yet. But he’s coming along. What this isn’t about is the way you eat shellfish. Personally, I’m still in the chew category. But think about it, most delicate Pisces, if they would even eat oysters? Most of ya’ll are in the "swallow real fast" category. But as Mars inches closer? Consider the chew school of thought. Think about it. Just as an added thought, most oysters are either fried or smoked these days. It’s not the season for fresh.
