- “Put money in thy purse.”
Shakespeare’s Othello [I.iii.335]
Cancer: Central Texas has notoriously hard water. Buddy of mine — not named ‘Bubba,’ but thanks for asking — was having his water softener replaced. He was also called out of town on a quick business deal. It was the usual, “Kramer, can you go by, key is under the door mat, let the plumber in, he’ll fix it, just tell them to bill me, OK?” Sure. I watched, idly, while the two guys swapped out a water softener, looks a lot like a water heater, then they brought in two bags of salt, for the new softener, and then, the installation. 15 minutes later, I still wasn’t done surfing my buddies sports package on TV, the plumber let out a low whistle. “That was too easy. Got to be something wrong.”
He hitched up his pants, scrawled out a bill, clipped something to his clipboard, and was out of there. I locked up and was walking home in less than an hour. Careful.
Anything goes that smooth? Bound to be a problem, right? Actually, no problem at all.
Do your homework, line the pieces up and then, you, too, can have a perfect installation this week. Better yet, my bud? He was out of town.
Leo: NOT YET, or perhaps worded like this would be more clear — “NotYetNotYetNotYet!” Timing I critical on this one, and the timing is one where you can just cool it. Stop. Chill. Take it easy. Or, as I hope conveyed earlier, “Not yet.” There is one Leo who will throw this back at me, “But you promised!” I did.
Just not yet. It’s coming, it’s happening, it’s right there. Fishing trip, last week, week before, sometime, I’m sure pictures are on the website someplace. Anyway, fishing, nothing before noon. The solar-lunar tables and the tides were supposed to be good by nine that morning. Nothing. Noon, 12:30 or so, fishing suddenly started. All those fish we didn’t catch in the previous three, four hours? Caught them all in less than half an hour, against the fisherman’s lore, but right in line with my expectations. See what I mean about waiting? Yes, it will happen. When? Not yet.
Virgo: When I fish, especially if I know I will be out all day, I pack some beef jerky. Big package, buy in bulk, and I like it. High in protein, low carbs, high in sugar and salt, too. Salt because, it is the middle of the summer here, and I’ll sweat profusely. Sugar to keep the blood sugar up and keep me interested.
Not right away, but over the weekend, think about a dietary staple, a snack, a food source that is portable and can survive, well, in my example, it has to survive a few days in a tackle box. Or bait bag, something. Need a cheap, renewable, low in whatever, high in whatever, kind of Virgo food. Something that’s good for you. As the weekend approaches then motors on by, you’re going to need a snack. Something. Be prepared. Beef jerky works for me, gives me something to chew on, and as a Virgo, isn’t it better if you choose what you chew?
Libra: It was a British ad, famous comedian, and the problem? A long line of cars. Stopped. Stuck in traffic. “I wish they would send someone to tell us what the problem was,” his companion suggests. In droll British wit and tone, “They don’t give a bugger about us.” I stopped watching at that moment. I liked that part of the message. If “they,” and I have no idea who “they” would be, but if they would be kind enough to supply Libra with a dollop of information, the tedious delays in the next few days would appear more palatable. Absence of information has never bothered me, I can write fiction: I’m a fisherman. However, as a Libra, perhaps asking, perhaps digging, maybe poking around on the web, something will help. Need more information. Might not cure anything but makes it far more digestible.
Scorpio: “You know, her boss? He’s, like, a rabid Republican!” My little friend, client, was shocked, as her friend was working there, in a nest of Republicans. Austin friends and clients, rather liberal.
Ask my liberal friends and I’ve been around the redneck Republicans too long.
Ask my Republican friends and I’ve been around the long-haired-hippie-commie-fags too long.
Varied opinions. I tend to voter middle-of-the-road and slightly independent, but this isn’t about me, it’s about perceptions. Doesn’t matter what side of the political line you’re on, that’s not what this is about, it’s about concern for a friend that appears to be in a nest of vipers. Snakes. Up to her sweet little Scorpio butt in dangerous people with different ideas. First, the person in question is Scorpio, and second, well, is there really a second question? Think about it. You have your opinion, a valid, let’s say for example, a valid political view, and your boss, employer, or something, they have a different view. Listen. Watch. Nod your head. Agree that they have a valid point. I didn’t say you betrayed your beliefs and said that they were right, just, they have a valid point, worthy of some consideration. You don’t have to agree, or sell out, but keep some strong Scorpio sentiments to yourself.
Sagittarius: It’s around four AM, in the morning, place I tend to favor along the Texas coast. Around four in the morning, the lights are on, underwater, at the fishing pier. Schools of Speckled (sea) Trout wash in with the tide, and between four and five in the morning, usually the best time. I favor a Spec Rig, just a really cheap set of jigs joined by a length of line, knotted and arranged. Cost a buck or two in the grocery stores along the coastline. With the ‘spec rig’ and light fishing gear, the little trout, last time, most were undersized, but it was a good few hours of fishing. I was the only one on the pier, too. That works well for me. Works for Sagittarius. Pick a time when no one seems to be around. In my case, it’s cool, or as cool as the coast will be, and the offshore breeze ruffles the waters, and trout spool and school up, ready for the fun. It’s good. However, same pier, after nine in the morning? Full of kids and parents, other weekend-type warriors, making a fuss and no one catching much of anything. Pick and choose the time.
Capricorn: Happy Solstice, the day the Sun Stood Still. The Sun doesn’t stand still, and the orbs keep spinning on their preordained pathways. I posted a note in the weblog about the status of the planets, and my entry was supposed to be funny. Ironic. Satire. Parody. Capricorn fishing buddy read it, and he took it at face value. Didn’t see the humor, didn’t see my fine hand of amusement pulling the strings, and he called me up in panic. Myth, metaphor, mystery. In some order. Mirth. It’s all in good fun. As the weekend rapidly encroaches on the work-week, watch for the jokes. The telltale smile, smirk, nod, glistening eye. Watch for it. Might miss the joke, otherwise.
Aquarius: Pick one Aquarius problem. Pick one obstacle that bothers you. Doesn’t have to be a big item. I got one fishing buddy who nags. Sounds like a little, old woman. Sounds like a grandmother. Sounds like someone’s mother. It’s not bad, it’s just, when he gets on his bitch cycle, it’s not pretty. Don’t want to be stuck in the back of the boat when he’s pissing and moaning about politics, or his wife, or the economy, or whatever this moment’s issue is. “Bitch, bitch, bitch-bitch, whine, whine, WHINE!”
What I did, last time we were set for coastal fishing? I forwarded him some jokes. The usual e-mail jokes. Some frighteningly right-wing political comments. Humor and controversy. Worked well. He was reciting the jokes, as if by rote, and the complaints about politics, he’s to the right of center, but the extreme right scared him. I had a pleasant day in the boat. Pictures on the website someplace. Pick one Aquarius problem and affect a solution to that problem.
Pisces: One of my neighbors was asking about another neighbor. Passing acquaintance. I acknowledged that the guy was, indeed, a tasty morsel. You know, one of those really handsome men who’s young, roguish good looks combined with sparkling eye and long lashes? Fills out a uniform (desert camo) perfectly, with the t-shirt stretched taut across his manly chest? Then, to listen to him, he’s apparently genuinely nice? Good stuff. All I know, too. There’s a tendency, pardon my generalization, but seems like all my Pisces friends have this, at this moment. There’s a tendency to get distracted by someone — or something — for which there is no real evidence to support the distraction. Good looking, sure, interesting, I guess, possible relationship, not until I know the birthday. See how this goes? A whole scenario was built out of stolen glances.
Aries: Seemed backwards to me, but then, it wasn’t my boat or my gear. “Here, ten pound leader, 12-pound line,” buddy handed me a rod and reel for fishing. Live shrimp, baited up, set the line, a fish takes the bait, felt like a good-sized Red, drag on the reel screams, the fishing is taking the line and then, SNAP!
When I reel in what was left, it was that leader, broke clean in two. Fish got fed, I got nothing. “Think I’m going to have to throw away that spool of leader,” buddy explains. I think that’s a good idea, no telling the exact problem, age, length in the boat, length of time in the sun, or just bad manufacturing? Could be anything. Now, there’s a breaking point in Aries. What are you going to do? I’d get new line before it breaks. Replace the weak link before it’s mission critical.
Taurus: Lady behind the counter at the record store looked at me. That up and down glance. “You might like it, it’s surf-punk.” Which wasn’t exactly true, as it was more pop-punk intermingled with psychobilly. Calling her a lady is a misnomer as I expected she was much younger than me.
I was attracted to that one album (CD) for it’s “Betty Paige” star with tats and obvious punk leanings. Turns out it was a good find, a couple of songs have made it into rotation with me. Liked it fine, but what caught my attention, at first, was the “surf-punk” label. Wrong title for that band, but one that certainly sold me. In the first place. It’s about what labels we use to sell what it is we want. I’m still looking for some Surf Punk, let me know if you have any recommendations. What is going to pique the Taurus curiosity this week?
Gemini: One of my professional friends, dear friend, worked alongside her for years, she has this one, rather strange, even to me, proclivity. As an American with Latin roots, she can safely drink tequila. She likes her tequila with olives. Martini, that’s olives.
Tequila? With olives? That’s just weird.
It’s not like I haven’t been exposed to a lot weird stuff in my life, but the tequila with olives? Stranger than most.
“It works. Way I like it. So there.” So there it is, tequila and olives. Good friend, excellent worker, highly recommended in her field. I’d suggest mixing it up for Gemini. Like olives and tequila. Not me, I’m not going to do that, but I’m not Gemini.
