Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 8.29.2013

“God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him
The ears of profiting, that thou speakest may
Move, and what he hears may be believed.”

Falstaff in Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part I

Virgo: Happy birthday! No, Mercury is most assuredly not retrograde. Got that? Mercury is in Virgo, this week, even now, and Mercury is helping you think faster, move quicker, and even leap tall buildings in a single bound. Maybe not that last one. Still, the problem is, in front of you is Venus, and behind you is Mars. While you’re “Mercurial” skill set is enhanced, the rest of your relationship skills are not. Stop. Stop talking. Stop fidgeting. Be perfectly still for a few minutes. For a few moments, anyway.

Just stop.

It’s your birthday month.

Quit complaining and act like it is your birthday month and act like you’re grateful. That simple.

You’re welcome, and let’s have us some good Virgo fun, now.

Libra: I like old Falstaff. He was wise and lazy, my kind of character. Knowledgeable in the ways of the world, and just lazy enough to not have to ever work hard. Again, a likable person, in my mind. But I’m not a Libra. Falstaff’s option? That’s not working. The “lazy is good” thing?

That’s not working for Libra, not at this moment. There’s an arrangement that is about to occur in the heavens, and that marks a time for a fresh start. Pick and choose, carefully. I’d look at one Libra goal. One Libra task, onerous or not, one job at hand that needs a fresh start. Consider that you’re clearing a pathway so you can get a new, fresh, better, start. To me? It looks like you’re about to get a running start on making an old problem a new problem and tackling the problem with clear, open-minded direction. New idea, better solutions to an old issue that just won’t go away. Here, now’s the chance to put it to rest, once for all.

Scorpio: I’ve changed my working hours, and while I used to sleep until noon and work until midnight, I’ve gradually shifted that around. I get up early, and I work until late afternoon, having evenings now as free time — or just dedicated to other, often ancillary, pursuits. If I’m sitting at the keyboard by 6 in the morning, then I can easily put in a ten-hour day, especially in the fall like this, and still have some time left over for scholarly, social activities in the cool of the evening. Because I’m wired the way I am, I enjoy the longer hours of work. Because Saturn is leaning on you, consider redoing your work hours. Like me, early to bed and late to bed, that might be more entertaining. Ten — twelve, even — hour work days for Scorpio? Good idea, for now. Although, that might be a bit shorter than you’re used to.

Sagittarius: I remember when a high school student, thusly identified, asked for permission to use my horoscopes in the school news. I politely demurred. While I tend to regard my material as fairly tame, I do, on occasion, drop off into the adult world. Then, too, I wonder if my material is too arcane for such young minds (but it seems to work on immature minds.)

I don’t know, I can’t answer that. While I should’ve been honored that an advanced student wanted my material, I have to question whether I’m really appropriate for such a venue. At the time, I declined. If I was asked again? I’d decline again, I hope. What was an adult decision then? Probably an adult decision now. Stick to the same answer, even though, as a Sagittarius, I’m inclined to want to second, third guess myself and explore all the options? Stick with the same answer as before. Think outside of the Sagittarius box, think consistency.

Capricorn: My somewhat eclectic taste in music is famous. I’ve amused and appalled friends and cohorts at the same time, over and over. From street sounds to classical, with most variations of current pop music included, I’ve got a certain breadth. Listening to any music device I’m attached to, with the player set to shuffle? It will bring up an interesting, possibly weird, array of diverse talents and musical styles. When I work, I tend to have some kind of streaming music in the background, radio, internet, i-thingy, something. Like me, in Capricorn, you tend to like music. There’s a situation developing, around you, with you, inside of you. By the beginning of the next week, this idea, this project, will require your complete attention. Here’s the deal: turn off the music. Unless, of course, you’re a music critic and you get paid to write about the music. In that case? Turn off the TV. One distraction that’s not normally a distraction? Turn it off. Here, I’ll show you. I just turned off my music.

Aquarius: There’s this really cool New Moon early next week. Beginning point. It also marks the punctation of the seasons. The challenge facing Aquarius, though, is Mr. Mars sailing along in Leo, the sign that is opposite you. Sometime, in the next six weeks, there’s an ugly confrontation. I don’t like that. You don’t like that. As soon as Mars lines up with your Aquarius essence, there’s a single point that needs to be addressed. This next week, look at the issues, and plan around that issue that needs to be addressed. The Moon (New Moon Virgo) will give you great strength. Use it. Sometimes, this is simple symbolism. I’d pick and choose before Mars forces the issue.

Pisces: One place, locally, served really tasty Greek food, until, at some point, the business died. Turned that location in a Tacqueria (taco stand, really TexMex, but who’s counting?) Another place was good Italian with some rather delightfully prepared homemade pasta. Lasted over a year, but eventually closed and reopened as a Tacqueria.

It’s a failry common theme, fancy, non-TexMex place opens and closes, and then? The location becomes a tacqueria. Almost interesting and it’s fun to pile on to pool when the new place will close and reopen as a taco stand. One local pizza place has been going strong for years, and I was wondering how they survived the “tacqueria curse.” Last time I was there, I think I found the answer. They offer a “taco pizza,” which, as near as I can tell, is just like a giant taco: ground meat, cheese, hot sauce. As a Pisces, it’s time to think about adapting to local conditions.

Aries: “Now is the time I’m going to get serious about this,” and how many times have I said that? As an Aries, how many times have you asked yourself, told yourself, “This time, I’m serious.” Stern look. Jaw clenched in a determined way? This isn’t the time I’m going to get serious. I have a casual but thorough methodology when I study astrology. I formulate a hypothesis, then test it against various scenarios. Frequently I’ll run it out as a horoscope, sometimes, more than once. Test, tweak, test, tweak, test again. Repeat and reuse, over and over. So this time, I’m serious. I’m serious all the time, but I have sense of humor about it. Are you deadly serious this time? Or are you just playing over and over? “No, this time, I am serious!” Really? Are you sure? I think there’s still a need for a sly smirk in that Aries delivery.

Taurus: I was a walking alongside the river here. I glanced down, then stopped. It was a hot August afternoon. I noticed that there was a good deal of “fish” activity. I’m trained, or, I do pay attention, over the years, I’m good at spotting where the fish are. This was a local, rather urban setting, and the fish were clearly tilapia. Tilapia is not native. While, in some cases, it is considered an invasive animal, with its short life-cycle, and possible rich food source, as well as its non-damaging properties make it a low-priority target.

Tilapia is vegetarian, doesn’t usually eat other fish, and that stream? Nothing else was living in there besides a few turtles. I watched the school, and I had a sudden thought, “It’s not a school of fish, it’s a herd of tilapia.” Herd, not school. Appropriate on more than one levels because the fish, the herd, could be seen grazing on the stream’s bottom algae. I also realized that if I called a school of fish a “herd of fish,” I’d get laughed at. Some days are good. Some days are better. Some days? Keep that “herd of fish” appellation to yourself.

Gemini: One of my fishing buddies, he’s learned a new trick from me. When I get home, whether it’s fishing, business, or fishy business, the first thing I do is repack the gear bags. Like, a suitcase I use for business travel? Dirty clothes out, clean set of clothing that can stay in the suitcase goes in, folded, along with a fresh set of travel crap.

What did I need — and forgot — last time? Best time to remember that is as soon as I arrive. So my fishing buddy, when he gets in from one of our fishing trips, he hoses off the boat, then repacks all the fishing tackle, looking forward to the next trip. Everything goes in except, of course, live bait. Rods and reels that need replacement parts are set on the work table. It’s a very organized and efficient process. It’s about process, in as much as it about whatever it is that needs to be attended to. Reels need oil and new line. All in good time, everything happens in good time. The process, though, it’s like a physical check list, going through the process to unpack and repack, while the exploits — and weaknesses — are still fresh in the mind. Just getting in? Repack that gear bag, organize the fishing tackle, get everything ready for the next (Gemini) trip.

Cancer: It’s time for a Mental Health Day ™. I can’t tell you, individually, how to take a mental health day. I can tell you what I do. I put the phone on “airplane,” put the computer on “sleep,” and put a fishing pole in my hand. In order to not look completely stupid, I usually hold the fishing pole over water, preferably a local lake, or even the Texas Gulf Coast. Something. Anything. In the past, even a creek will do. Hey, there’ an old picture of fairly decent-sized bass I pulled up and out of the creek next to Shady Acres, in Austin. Same idea, got it? Pick, choose, plot carefully. Maybe a day when you won’t be missed by many, maybe in conjunction with the (US) three-day weekend. Still, the stars are aligning that just one Mental Health Day will benefit you immensely.

You’re Welcome!

The (mighty) Leo: It’s — relatively — easy to juggle three objects at one time. Not a big challenge. “Professional” jugglers can add in more objects, I think, up to about six before it gets difficult for them. You’re (probably) not a professional juggler; therefore, let’s stick to just three items in the air at once. Now, let’s slow this down to a pace that, as the mighty Leo, you’ll understand. There are three points crying for your attention. You, like me, are best served when you pay attention to one item at a time. With me thus far?

Good.

Here’s the trick to dealing with Mars, in Leo, right now. When you drop one of the juggling items? Don’t worry. Keep your eyes on the other two in the air. Might even be easier if you drop two, and just play with one at a time. One at time. Not all three. If this particular (object you are juggling) does not want your Leo attention at this moment? Drop it. There re at lest two other items, that you’re currently juggling, that do need your attention. Go with where you are best served. No use trying to juggle an object that really doesn’t want to be tossed around by you at the moment.