"For the sweetest thing turn sourest by their deeds.
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."
Shakespeare’s Sonnet XCIV, lines 13-4
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Taurus: "Dude, no, I mean, dude, you’ve just got to try this place," my little Taurus friend was imploring. She was going on and on about a local Chinese delivery food restaurant. Supposedly, out in the burbs, it was still a good place. Best chicken wings ever. Fast, cheap, plentiful. Good, too, according to my source.
I looked over the menu and I picked something I didn’t recognize, with beef and garlic in it. Had the usual "it’s spicy" star beside the menu item. 15 minutes later, there’s a knock on the door, and the delivery guy hands over a bag full of warm food containers. I was surprised, although it didn’t have the bite that I was looking for, for a delivery place, the hot stuff had a little bit of a kick. Not enough to tingle my senses, but certainly enough qualify as decently warm. So, for me, it was a surprise — of the pleasant sort.
Listen to friends, I’m unsure of family for recommendations, but friends and cohorts are a good source of new material. Whether it’s just a place to deliver some food that’s actually a little spicy, or if it’s another kind of referent that you’re seeking, trust your sources. And happy birthday.
Gemini: I walked over to the creek to go for a little swim. Water seemed a bit muddy, but not bad. Cool, kind of murky instead of its usual crystal clear condition. But it was okay. I swam about half a lap, got out, grabbed my shirt and walked up the hill then down the street to get some BBQ. Dripping wet, faintly smelling of creek water, maybe a twig tangled in my hair. Maybe not. I sat outside, on the patio, and for a brief, shining moment, all was well within my world.
I battled some flies, trying to steal my food, but on that one afternoon, the waitress brought me a bucket of ice tea, and asked if I wanted what I usually had, and then left me alone. She did smile, but she wasn’t mean or interruptive. Is that really a word? Interruptive? So I was lost in my own, happy thoughts, having cleared a few miles of hike and bike trail, and gone for a swim, and it was all okay. Here’s the secret to happiness, this week: ignore problems. I did mention that I managed to walk off without a cell phone? Sometimes, the simplest oversight can be a secret boon.
Cancer: I wonder how much of the Cancer worldview is being shaped by popular media like movies, films, and TV? Ever see a place depicted in just such a format, only to arrive at the location, and discover that it really isn’t like that? To this day, I’m still occasionally asked about my horse. As if. I do know a few people who really do board, own, ride and ranch, but that’s not so common in the more urban environments I tend to frequent. We don’t have hitching posts in the downtown area, anymore.
So how much of your view of particular place, a way of seeing someplace you’ve never been, how much is being dictated via the media? I got to California, one time, and I had a cab ride that was just like a chase scene in movie, same streets, same experience, only it was real. Straight out of the film version of a chase scene, only the bad driver didn’t speak one lick of English. One morning in New York City, I saw that tidal wave of cabs surge forward, down the street, again, just like I would imagine it, straight from video. Only, it was real. Two examples where, in my experience, the film/video/TV/whatever images are resoundingly accurate. But there are no hitching posts in my downtown. No saloons with batwing doors. How are you going to distinguish what’s real and what’s celluloid?
Leo: I was waiting on a late-night client call. It was matter of working around two people with busy schedules and the easiest time to do a reading was around 11 PM. I’m not adverse to such an arrangement, when it fits in my schedule, and I’m most accommodating of my dear little clients. The problem was, originally scheduled for 10:30, and after an hour rolled by, I was still messing with a particular file, still had the headset on, and the tape was still unrecorded.
Client called close to midnight. Again, not a problem, but what I’d done in the intervening hour and half was strictly optional. I was working on some background music for the website audio track. I built one background set, and pleased with my work, I had an idea, which started with a Misfits song, and I ended up with some soothing "new age" type of track. Purely optional work, but it took time, effort and lot of sampling to get it all correct. Which was what I had, waiting on the call. In a previous life, I’ve billed for time spent waiting. I really couldn’t, and I suppose there was a little miscommunication about time zones and appointed hours. But I didn’t waste my time, although, it wasn’t, strictly speaking, free time, I put that hour (and a half) working on something that I will roll out later. Think about it, as you’re waiting on someone, or some action to take place. Can you be working on something else that is amusing for you? Better yet, is it amusing and useful? That’s how to handle the approach of the full moon.
Virgo: I changed a piece of computer code, in reality, I saw a small web-applet on a site and, I looked at the source code, copied it, and used it myself. Then I got to looking at the code I "borrowed," and it was about 25 lines of instructions, with lots of words. I had another little piece of software that accomplished the same task with just two lines. While I liked the longer version, as it was clear, to me, what the commands were all about, the shorter version has to be much less wear and tear on the web page.
Can’t afford to wear out those tiny little electrons and neutrons, as they get stripped of their shells or whatever happens. Electricity. See a physics guy for more details about that. What I was doing was trying to make a machine behave in an acceptable manner. I opted for a long and drawn-out approach, which was the first shot. But the second try resulted in much more appealing — and more logical approach. It might take more than one step to implement your Virgo plan. But you’ve got an idea, or a new idea catches your fancy, and then, you discover there’s an even more elegant way to fix it. Two steps. Usually takes two tries. Like me.
Libra: "We had this one customer," the girl behind the counter explained, "complained that it was too loud. You know how hard it was not to say, ‘If it’s too loud, then you’re too old’?" I frequent this one establishment because the food is good enough, the help is a little surly and the music is freshly invigorating.
In the middle of the afternoon, with no other customers, the sound is usually cranked, and it’s generally cacophonous and raucous. Loud and strident, the typical music of disaffected youth. I threw a dollar in the tip jar. On more than one occasion, I’ve inquired about a band’s name, and I’ve learned that, along with my sandwich, I can get an introduction to certain musical selection I might not otherwise be exposed to.
I tend to enjoy this kind of interaction, too. But that’s me. Take your Libra senses and put them to work for you. I’m in that place of business for no more than a few minutes, so even if the music was too loud? I could easily tolerate the volume. Besides, how else would our Libra sources get a chance to hear new material? And that’s what it’s all about, not sticking to preconceived conventions.
Scorpio: I took an online "test," one of those fairly common quiz-format things that purports to be strict science, and my Scorpio senses started to tingle. That sensation suggested that maybe this test wasn’t quite so scientific and it might be a hoax, albeit a clever one. Or it could be serious. I couldn’t tell. The questions themselves were — to me — transparent. All that was missing was the "answer honestly for best results" tag. I actually did answer honestly, and I did score okay.
I’m normal, in as much as that particular test could grade "normal," and I think that suggests one of two pathways, either the test is rigged, or I picked the answers that made me look normal. Which goes further to suggest that maybe it wasn’t a real scientific survey of any merit. I was considering my disposition and the results from that online quiz, and I decided that I was normal, from my own frame of reference. However, I’ve long since learned when my Scorpio senses start to tingle, there might be mischief afoot.
I’d link to the quiz, but I can’t recall what I was searching for. Besides, as good Scorpio, you know how to adjust the results of those games to get what you want. Which is part of what this is all about, really, adjusting your answers to achieve the results you want. Normal.
Sagittarius: Twice, in one evening, I hooked a big monster of cow of a bass. She’s huge, a good six or seven pounds, I’m sure. The problem? She broke off our engagement, both times, in front of an audience, even. One couple, the first time, was nonplused, however, the second time, a young guy was pretty excited. I’d just retied a new hook, she got the first one, and this guy watches as she jumped, shaking her head, and eventually, breaking the line.
It was a very light pole/reel set-up, not really the best line for a monster behemoth like that. She’d bent the pole in half, and the violent head shake snapped the really light line. I tend to use a little heavier line, but I was trying to fool some of the littler fish, and I was doing a fair job. I was a little agitated that the fish won the first round, and the second round? That was my fault for not switching to a heavier line. It’s not like I didn’t have a pole handy, I was just using the lightest gear for the pleasure of that spring evening, under calm skies.
That evening, late, I was up, winding new line onto that reel, just a little heavier, a little stronger, and hopefully, I’ll catch her yet. I could get all worked up over losing a fish, but in the long run, it’s all okay — the fish win some days. Or evenings. Now, I’m set to catch her again, as I know where she’s hanging out, and I know what she likes, and I’m prepared, this time. If you’re caught without the right equipment the first time around? Can’t fix that. But you can be better prepared the next time. Unlike me. Mars, as it was, wasn’t on my side. Some days, the fish get to win.
Capricorn: I reached into my closet and pulled out a shirt to wear, as it was a cool spring night and the evening’s temperature dictated that I don appropriate attire. What I found, was a shirt that I was meaning to return to the owner, only, I don’t know from whence the shirt came. Blue, 100% cotton, a medium.
The shirt was a medium size, it didn’t come from a medium, because, if it did, then the medium would know that they should fetch the shirt back, so it wouldn’t be lost. As the late April night cooled off, I reached down to button the shirt. It didn’t button correctly. This isn’t like some kind of weird mismatched button arrangement that I can, on occasion, do.
It was a female shirt and therefore the buttons were on the wrong side. The wrong side for me, anyway. However, since I wasn’t interested in fixing the problem, I just discovered how hard it is to button up a shirt backwards.
Aquarius: I stepped into a local coffee shop, and there was a new person behind the counter. Not entirely unexpected, as I’m sure, in some cases, there’s a high turnover in the industry. I was taken back by the youthful vigor and unique appearance as well as the hair style. I was figuring, just as a quick mental calculation, that more money was spent on hair care products than a typical barista would make. I’m not saying it was bad, just different beyond the usual weirdness. Black and blonde dreadlocks. Like I suggested, just different.
The rest of the outfit was to be expected, short skirt, leg warmers, tattoos and so forth. As I spit out my order, the barista told me to slow down, "Whoa there, slow down…." It’s just that I met with the unexpected, and my usual, unflappable self was flapped. Or whatever. Threw me. In a place where it can’t get any weirder, two item upset my world view, first, there was a new person and second, the new person was more unusual than the usual unusual crowd. Just the way it goes.
You’re going to be greeted, in the next week, with not one, but two items that will give you a moment’s pause. One or the other, just one item wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Two? That messes with your Aquarius head. Did with mine. Doesn’t mean it’s bad, but don’t repeat my mistake and be too hasty when faced with this new development. Developments, come in pairs.
Pisces: I was experimenting with a hook and a trick worm. Had a weighty weight, and the special arrangement of hook, line, sinker. I gave it a tentative toss, and it flew like it was supposed to do. I wound the line back up, carefully observing the behavior of the bait, see if looked appetizing. So it seemed. Since the first cast was good, I gave it a mighty fling, aiming for a spot halfway across the river. The hook, line and sinker went true. Straight line, almost to other side. (Well, maybe not quite that far, but anyway.) But the trick worm went whipping in another direction.
It had formerly been languishing in the bottom of the bait box, so it wasn’t like any kind of a loss, just a very minor annoyance. Plus, the reason it came undone? Must’ve been the way I hooked it, attached it the hook, in the first place. Who can I blame? The hook? The worm itself? You’re a Pisces. You have a trick set-up and the bait, somehow, comes undone. What are you going to do? Sue the bait company? Sue the hook maker? The fishing pole people? What’s the point? This isn’t a common occurrence for me, as I’m usually pretty good about such matters, but in my haste, I might’ve performed an action incorrectly. Not enough bite to the bait. Couldn’t take the stress. No one to blame but myself.
Perhaps it was the extra arm I added, and maybe that was the problem. Too much pressure. Before your Pisces self starts applying either too much pressure or assessing blame, stop and consider who is really at fault.
Aries: I never thought of fishing as a blood sport. I tend towards "Catch and release," so often, that I hardly find myself in the blood-sport mind-set. But I had an experience the other morning, as I was trying to launch a long-range, lightweight lure, halfway across the lake. I let her rip with a full, hard cast, and the weight swung back around and the hook itself? Caught me in the leg. Nasty little barb on that sucker, too, sharp, as well.
So I limped home. I cut the line, then clipped the hook off the lure, and then, I used a pair of diagonal wire-cutters to cut the hook itself at the curve. I just pushed the barb right on through and I had a perfect stitch — in the back of my thigh. So much for this not being a blood sport. So much for long-range launching of lures.
I’m also a bit more philosophical than some, and I just figured I needed a new hook on that lure. It’s a good time for Aries to think about long-range launch plans. It’s not such a good idea to really heave those plans out into the lake, just yet. Until Mars gets into a better place? Might hook yourself, like I did. And a bloodless sport gets a little messy.
