April 24, 2009: Tentative air date â€â€
ABC: "Reality" TV Program:
Wife Swap, special guest astrologer.
"The silence of pure innocence
Persuades, when speaking fails."
Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale [II.ii.40]
"As seen on TV" — again. The Program is "Wife Swap" on ABC, the tentative air date is April 24, at 7 PM. See local listings for details.
Aries: "Search and rescue" practice. I’m guessing, it was Austin Search and Rescue, and I’m also guessing it was adverse training conditions. It was a few weeks ago, on the lake, with near gale-force winds. Almost a red flag day, as in, no boats. We’d been fishing, bit of luck, and there was thunderous drone of a helicopter for the last hour. Finally figured out it was one pontoon boat, or a zodiac, and one guy in the water, and one guy swinging from the end of a rope. The guy on the rope was casually being ducked into the water. Appropriate fishing joke here? "Big enough bait?" Yeah, for what? The guy on the end of the rope and the guy in the water, it wasn’t going so well as the pilot, the rope hanger, the floater, I’m not sure who but someone wasn’t getting the signals correct. Why it’s called training, I’m sure. And therein is the lesson for the rest of my Aries friends. It’s all about practice in proper conditions. I liked seeing them train in a high wind situation. More realistic. More likely to be real. And it never hurts to be prepared.
Taurus: "Hog Eye Bait House" is a real place. It’s in Austin, along the eastern fringe, but Travis County nonetheless. Inside, water-dogs, earthworms and minnows are for sale. The sign outside says "Tackle – Bait – Notary – License." The addendum to the sign? "Fishing Reel Repair." That portion is truly hand-lettered and on the side. Your Taurus birthdays begin at the beginning of this next week. That’s good. However, given that Mr. Mars is in Aries? We’ve got a problem here. I want your birthdays to be extra special good. I have no idea why there would need to be a notary at the bait stand. I can’t even fathom the logic, but then, when discussing places that sell "Beer – Bait – Ammo," logic doesn’t always play a hand in the equation. But I do know that checking with the bait stand will reveal much information. What the fish are hitting on. What the merchant has in overstock and needs to be unloaded. What’s good, what is purported to be good, and other bits of trivial information that, or might not be, useful. I tend to think that every bit of local lore, useful or otherwise, is good. Matter of understanding and filtering the data. So as a way to get ready for the birthday week? Birthday month? Stop and ask directions. Maybe pick up some minnows while you’re at it. Or water-dogs, those things work great on that lake.
Gemini: There are certain moments that remain forever etched in my memory. "No, I don’t want it yesterday, I wanted it before I knew I wanted it." Or something like that. It was Gemini telling me about the lack of patience. Anticipation. The insistent desire for immediate gratification, and sometimes, "Immediate isn’t fast enough." Yes and that’s our lesson this week, in Gemini. You’re going to learn this the easy way or the difficult way, and how that works is up to you. It’s a slow lunar cycle, the beginning of bad solar cycle, and it’s also the onset of Mercury deal, too. No, not that bad, but individually, these subtle cycles wouldn’t be too awful. Collectively? There’s going to be a cranky Gemini or two. What can you do? Chill. Cool it. Freeze. Stop. Better yet? Follow one of my plans: I keep my own counsel. Means I keep some things to myself that I would normally talk about. I keep my mouth shut when I would normally vocally address an issue. This cold be a person. This cold be person who has some kind of authority over your Gemini destiny. This cold be a person who is — seemingly — standing in your way. Keep quiet. I think that the obstacle is really a bridge, but that won’t be apparent for a few more days, like maybe a dozen days.
Cancer: I live at home, and I have my "writing space" at home, and for that matter, I have a home office. Been like this for years. So when I read a business journal that preached "no more than 22% of your office knick-knacks should be personal," I was worried. My office trivial items include a broken fishing pole. A lure that I’ll never wet again. A series of tackle boxes with a dizzying array of gear for a variety of situation, from pond to ocean. And just about every water body in between. So I fail to grasp the concept of not too many pieces of myself around the office space. I believe it’s important, though, to note that I seldom if ever meet clients personally in my "office space." I do a number of phone consultations here, so it has to be comfortable for me. But no, I don’t have bland decor. A black velvet Elvis. A cow skull. Aforementioned fishing gear. A good luck cat. Now, think about it. If you’re a cube dweller, or office denizen, do you have a lot of your own personality reflected in the space? And is that good?
Leo: When I’m on the Texas Gulf Coast (Coastal Bend, Third Coast, Redneck Riviera), fishing off the dock, the pier, the water-break, or edge of the harbor? One of the most common fish to catch is a "hardhead," which is a nice term for Tourist Trout, again, a nicer moniker for a fairly trashy fish: catfish. The flesh eaters do well on the garbage on the bottom, and as such, are a viable part of the ecosystem. However, the spikes or dorsal fins have a neurotoxin, and can be painful. Not usually deadly, just uncomfortable. I was with a Leo buddy and he was remarking how we hadn’t had any of the tourist trout. His pole wiggles. He sets the hook. In he reels the only trash fish that day. Catfish. "Did I make that happen?" he asked. Well, actually, yes, he mentioned that there none so one shows up. I’m not saying that you’re going to catch a catfish, the saltwater version of bottom feeders, but you now? Careful what you wish for. Careful what you put out there, as it has a way of showing up in your Leo boat.
Virgo: One of the old-fashioned words for Saturn is "constraint." I was thinking about this definition, Saturn and your Virgo self, as we watched a guy back a new boat into the water, on a trailer, fire up the motor and have the boat go no where fast. Didn’t budge. He got out, pulled the boat and trailer back up the ramp, unhitched the back tie-down straps, then backed the trailer into the water, fired the motor up again and floated free. "I’d laugh at him," my buddy was saying, "except I’ve done that myself. New boat owner, you can tell." Yeah, and so? I’m not saying you should buy a new boat, although, if the wife approves, it’s a good idea. However, as a suggestion? When you get ready to launch a boat, especially a nice bass boat, or even a local bay boat? Think about all the stuff that needs to be released before you back it into the water. You know the drill, right? Hate for someone to be laughing at you. Or smirking, anyway. Even if we’ve all done the same thing, too.
Libra: I was on the front decking of a bay boat, shallow-minded water craft, designed for slipping up on big game redfish and speckled trout. I wanted to grab something from a front locker, and when I stood up, as I opened the locker, I knocked a fishing pole loose from its holder. And into the water the pole went. I’ve fished with this guy before, and if I didn’t hurry and grab the pole, there would be me in the water — it wasn’t deep, maybe a foot and a half — but I’d be fishing for the pole. I executed a heroic duck, twist, turn, lunge, and I saved the pole. In the blink of an eye, I saw the handle as it was slowly sinking, not more than two or three inches in the seawater, the brackish bay water, and my move was noted by all. "Never seen you move that fast, Kramer." Old guys, we have our chops. But it’s not about chops or moves. It’s about prevention. A good horoscope can help with some prevention, that’s what I mean. You’re going to be opening a locker, on a bay boat, or fishing — or something — and you cold, if you’re not careful, knock a pole in the water. In some cases, this isn’t a big deal, but with fishing poles that can cost upwards of $500, it is a big deal and it can be a costly mistake. So when you’re buffeted by the winds of chance? Exercise caution when opening that locker. I’m not saying you will knock a pole in the water, but without a quick save? Could get expensive.
Scorpio: I’ve worked West Texas a number of times. I love the land, the feeling of openness, the warm and gregarious denizens, and best of all? Boot hooks at the airline security check point. I was coming through the check point, and I tend to wear sandals when at all possible, just for this reason, bbut it was in March, and I had on boots. While I didn’t need the boot hooks, I was tickled to see them. For al our universal sameness? There are certain little items that stick out and make places like West Texas unique. You’re a Scorpio, I’ll assume, and you are unique. Might not be some big thing, and it might not be something will notice, or most people will notice, but there is something that sets you apart, the best of the fixed water signs. I’m not sure it’s just as simple as bot hooks past the checkpoint. I’m not sure what sets your Scorpio self apart from the rest. Gregarious? Kind? Warm? Whatever it is, use it.
Sagittarius: "Are you a musician?" The girl at the check in counter asked as I checked bags. "Why? Do I look like one?" I had to ask. "Your case, the stickers, you know, you look creative." Yeah, like a guitar player. But I’m not. This isn’t a case of mistaken identity, either. The question itself, I find amusing after so many years in Austin, the local version was, "Are you that guitar player?" Which I’m not. But this isn’t about mistaken identity. This is about assumptions. Long hair, kind of goofy, suitcases that looked artistic? Sure. But hastily jumping to the conclusion that I’m a musician? Bad move. I’ve long lamented this common mistake and assumption. As the planets unravel some, as the week gets longer? Or shorter, depends on the point of view? As the planets do their thing, remember that mistaken assumption, "Are you a musician?" Or its older sibling, "Are you that guitar player?" As a Sagittarius, and as the butt of the joke so often? Don’t make the same assumption and mistake.
Capricorn: Listening, as I do from time to time, gives me wonderful stories. Veracity is not assured. I was reading a mother/daughter/granddaughter combination, and the birth time was the question. The following tales ensued, "See, the bathroom was leaking, and Mom got here because I told her my water had broken, and the toilet was broken, and she saw the water all over the bathroom floor and ….." I believe the rest of the story can be filled in as panic even though mothers tend to know how to handle situations that children don’t know how to handle.
Aquarius: Joe Ely is a local singer/songwriter. Aquarius. Part of the legendary band, the Flatlanders (the band’s name came from their origins: Lubbock, Texas). A remarkable performer in his own right, too, and I’ve seen him several times. One of his better known songs is "Me and Billy the Kid," and I like that tune, but almost as good as the song? The back story from the stage one time. Seems that Joe Ely went and visited a Billy the Kid Museum in New Mexico, I’m guessing Lincoln County. According to the introduction, he was very unimpressed with what he saw and he wrote his own version of the tale of Billy the Kid. Just more modern myths in the making. Which is what this week is all about. What stories are we telling our Aquarius selves? What can we do to make the story better, improve on the impact of the myth? Personally, I like the tale he told, and I have no way of knowing if the stage banter was true, but as a story, as personal Aquarius myth? It felt true. Isn’t that all that matters, at the end of the show?
Pisces: West of here, sort of "over the hump" of the Texas Hill Country, there’s the northern terminus of the Chihuahua Desert. Along the I-35 corridor, the definition of "light rain" means measurable precipitation. On the other side, like on into West Texas, a light rain is what I would call mist. Fog, even. Heavy dew. For places that are both with in the same state, geographically, the definition of weather can change dramatically. So I’m seeing, due to the planets, a light rain in the Pisces morning, with the astrological portents clearing in the afternoon. How this works: that definition of "light rain" can vary from person to Pisces, all depends. Depends on where you’re at, and it depends on how you define "light rain."
Copyright © 2008-09, Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net
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copyright (c) 2008, 2009 Kramer Wetzel, for astrofish.net
