Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 10.18.2012

“I have a thousand spirits in one breast
To answer twenty thousand such as you.”
Shakespeare’s Richard II [IV.i.58-9]

Aumerle (RII) is responding to his treasonous countrymen.

A train rolled by, and piece of stray graffiti caught my eye, “Happy Birthday Misery.”

Libra: On the eve of Scorpio, a late Libra note is in order. Statistically, I got this from a real scientist, really a geophysicist, the odds are overwhelming. There’s 99.7% chance that California will suffer an earthquake of at least 6 on the old Earthquake Scale. Richter thing. Scale. You know. Sometime in the next 30 years. With absolute certainty, the “real” scientist asserted that as straight-up fact. No mincing of words, just fact-supported, peer-reviewed data to arrive at the sound conclusion. When is this going to happen? “Next 30 years.” Exactly when? “Might as well ask an astrologer or soothsayer,” he said. That’s where I step in.

With Saturn leaving you in the dust, there’s a ‘knowing’ that something is going to happen. Personally? I’d leave town. If I were on the Left Coast, I’d move. Highest probability has to do with proximity to structures which would suffer the most damage.

It’s going to happen, Libra. You’ve been warned. When? I’d guess sometime in the next 30 years.

Scorpio: I like making my famous, or infamous, “Road Kill Chili” in the winter. I’ve amended the name of the chili to pay homage to a certain super-store retail giant. Until I get that, “Cease and Desist” letter, I might let that stick, the title. Wal-Mart’s Winter Chili. It’s a combination of whatever I find when I’m cruising along with a shopping cart, so there’s no real, set recipe. Guidelines. Very annoying to a Scorpio, no set rules.

As Saturn eases through your sign, there are strong guidelines. With my chili, for example, years of testing, and alienating a few friends, I’ve discovered no more than 1 (one) Habanero Pepper (Scotch Bonnet) is allowed in the pot. The winter, later in the season than now, the real winter jalapeño are delightfully mild and fragrant. However, we’re still on the edge of summer in the South, and therefore, the peppers are still hot. Searing to some. I use one large clove of garlic. While I’d tried up to three, the guidelines suggest one is more than adequate. As Saturn eases through Scorpio, there are some guidelines. Follow them. Work. See what Saturn wants to you work on and follow that trail.

Sagittarius: This is so weird. I started out writing the Scorpio scope, right before Sagittarius, because I was going to make a point about Mars. I was discussing my Chili Recipe, which is less of a “recipe” and much more of a set of guidelines. It amounts to me chopping whatever peppers and meats look good at the time I’m shopping, very old school. The part I’m warning Sagittarius about, isn’t the apparent heat of the late-summer peppers, or the lack of decent stew meat at the one store, no, that’s not it. It’s the part where I’m chopping. I like a cutting board, a decent knife, a wooden spoon, and a big pot. All I use. The knife and the cutting board are the problem. Not even the board, just the knife. My fingerprints have been visibly altered by one too many mistakes with the chopping knife. Slice my fingertip clean off. Almost. With Mars? Watch for a slip with that paring knife. That simple.

Capricorn: There’s this vegan place, which, in and of itself, would seem a tad strange. I have a book named for a BBQ plate, so Vegan? Chalk that up to too much time in Austin. So this one place, there was an unusual spice, a certain zest, on the typical “lawn clippings” food. Vegan, macrobiotic, all of that. So this one dish has a zing that sets it apart. Zing, zest, snap, flavor that distinguishes it from the rest of the usual “tastes like lawn clippings” fare that is typical of Vegan/Macrobiotic eating establishments. That special ingredient is red pepper flakes. Like, with pizza? Only ground fine, and dusted on the shoots, and leaf-like things. Roots, tubers, I have no idea. Grains, maybe? Certainly organic and certainly tasteless, except for the way the red pepper compliments lettuce and sprouts. There was a slightly bitter flavor to one leaf-like plant, and the red pepper perfectly punctuated that flavor. From boring to zesty. From drab to interesting.

One, simple ingredient, Capricorn.

Aquarius: I haven’t lived all my life in Texas. Granted, it’s where I prefer to be, but that’s not what this is about. The fall foliage here, in South Texas? Looks much like spring flowers or summer flowers, for that matter, just, until it gets exceptionally cold here (below 70 for more than a day), we don’t really see any kind of “Fall Colors.” No russet, ochre, yellow and bright orange Maple leaves. No brilliant ruby-red oaks. Some of the trees just get brown and so far? We got nothing. No color, other than a few late-blooming flowers. My version of fall foliage is Bougainvillea and late-blooming fall flowers. I’ve been exposed to the seasonal changes and I’ve seen the brilliant flashes, where, one day a tree is covered with green leaves and the next day, the same tree, brilliant shades of red and orange. I’ve traveled enough north of the 30th parallel to be exposed to this. I’ve seen it. So the “fall colors” I read about, now? The fall colors that your Aquarius self reads about, maybe sees images on the web? We understand, in theory. Some weeks, like now, we don’t have to experience an event firsthand to say we’ve experienced that event. Like looking at pretty pictures of fall foliage rather than being in a cold climate.

Pisces: I got this one client, and I got tired of goading him. I was exhausted with continuously pushing, coaxing, not-too-subtle coercion, all the little ways we poke and prod to get a person from one point to the next. Pulling him along, Pisces, mind you, pushing, pulling, cajoling, gently chiding, none of that seemed to work on his Pisces self. Rebukes and reprimands? No luck. There are Pisces, I’ve seen them, no amount of rhetoric or collusion. Pisces, as a whole, and in particular, usually, a Pisces isn’t so stubborn. This one, he is that stubborn. I give up. As soon as I give up, he’ll do exactly what I was attempting to coerce him into doing. The catch here, and it’s a big one, giving up. I have to surrender. I have to admit that no amount of deft craft on my part will motivate that Pisces. However, total acceptance that it will never work? Works like a charm. As a Pisces? Surrender. Easiest way to get from here to there. Give it up.

Aries: I’ve heard about, read about, “Chainsaw Managers.” Typically, these are (expensive) ‘management consultants’ who are brought in to make wholesale changes in a company’s structure. They are frequently noted by that colloquial term because of a ‘slash and burn’ style of dealing with problems. There’s not much fixing involved. Anything, dead-weight, or just appears to be dead weight? Gone. Quick-like. No remorse. No chance for a change of heart. Sliced, diced, departed. Worried yet? You’re an Aries, no need to worry. Instead of being worried, look around. What needs to go? What looks like it might be dead weight, holding you back? What looks like a problem? Get out the chainsaw. Get out the scalpel. I’ve got one pocketknife that might still be sharp enough, want to use it? Surgically remove the problem. Cut off the whole, offending limb. From a tiny razor to the aforementioned chainsaw, think about pruning, trimming, and otherwise getting rid of that item, place, thing, that single piece that’s holding you back. Cut. Cut it loose.

Taurus: Last week was about making choices and making decisions. This week, more of the same, only, there’s a follow-up to the message. It’s about checking in. Before we get to the next Full Moon, there’s a point where an overhaul, and perhaps, a good, objective, look at your progress so far. What works, for Taurus. What doesn’t work, for Taurus. What’s good, what’s successful, and what’s not been successful in the few short days we’ve been at this. As a Taurus, you’re going to wonder about the flitting, ephemeral nature of my questions. Seems rather short-range for a long-term goal.

It is.

And for a good reason, too. There’s an obvious course correction, not so much a change of direction as much as a gentle course correction. As an example, instead of “South by South West?” Try, “South by South by South West.” That’s only like a little closer to one side. Not a wholesale change.

Gemini: Mars is in Sagittarius, straight across the chart wheel from your extra-fine Gemini self. I was casting from a lighted pier, South Texas Coast fishing. I was running a reasonably large lure through the evening’s school of speckled trout, all stacked up under those lights. At least one fish did a barrel-roll over the lure, but didn’t get near getting attached. My Gemini buddy dug around in his tackle, pulled out a small spoon (Kast-Master) and then proceeded to catch fish after fish. On light spinning gear, it’s a both a challenge, and rewarding fun. It was a matter of adapting to the current — ever-changing — conditions. Smaller, lighter, that’s sometimes better. Willing to adapt. Better, too. As Mars cruises along opposite you, be willing to adapt and change to current conditions.

Cancer: I’ve watched the color of the river change. Whether it’s in my native Austin, or my adopted home of San Antonio, in Central Texas, I’ve noticed that water color changes. The most remarkable place to see this is at the confluence of Barton Creek and the Colorado River. I spent many a lazy summer day in that vicinity, fishing, swimming in the spring-fed water, walking along the shoreline with a fishing pole. The “springs” (Barton Springs) tend to be aquamarine in color, sometimes tending to turquoise. The Colorado is more a muddy shade of forest green. All of the shades and hues can vary with time, temperature and condition of the viewer — it is Austin. There’s a gradual change as the water from the tributary hits the main river, and downstream from the confluence, the shades and hues all become one again. Blending. That’s what this is about, this week. Blending. Blending , in, or, better yet, blending two different shades, two seemingly different elements, and the combined is similar, but not exactly the same. Blending. What this week, in Cancer, is all about.

Leo: Pike’s Market, or City Market, or whatever the place is called, in Seattle, right? Pike’s Market. The original Starbucks, and the original Seattle’s Best Coffee, which, according to the natives up there, isn’t, that place. A dozen years ago, as I passed through Seattle, the flower stands all had big signs forbidding photography. Last time I passed through, those signs were all gone. I saw a T-shirt I liked, and I pulled out a phone to take grab a quick image. The vendor told me it wasn’t allowed, but, once again, no signs were out saying, “Don’t do this.” So I did. I apologized, but I kept the image as a point of reference.

Things change.

A dozen years ago, the were “No pictures” signs emblazoned everywhere. A decade passed. There was one guy, half-heartedly saying, “no pictures,” hoping I’d buy a T-shirt, but him, with no way to enforce his rule. Besides, public property, public market, public domain for images. The rules have changed. As The Leo, change with them.

Virgo: I had a photograph I wanted framed. Wasn’t a big deal, a standard size, just an 8 x 10, or 5 x 7, no big deal. I carried it in its package, it was a digital image print, not a real photograph, but I had it printed up on nice paper, and it was certainly deserving of a frame, both the print and the paper. So I carried it up to the giant craft counter, where they have frames, and have, in fact, matted a few images for me. This was simple, though, just a single, standard size picture.

The girl behind the counter (Libra) recognized me. She looked at the picture, picked a frame, and then she opened the frame up, and aligned the picture, and popped it into the frame, snapping the glass and then the wood, all back into place, expertly. I sought help, advice. I was helped. Didn’t cost any extra than the original, sale price of the frame, but I had an expert help me. As a Virgo? Seek assistance. Doesn’t have to cost money, but get a familiar, and helpful person, to lend a hand. Like the girl, woman, whatever, at the counter.