Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 9.12

“I am not what I am.”

Iago in Shakespeare’s Othello I.i.65

In Shakespeare’s Globe, nobility sat in the balcony, maybe not the best seats, as the groundlings had a better view, but it was the best place to be seen from, the balcony, it was. Seen. By everyone else.

Virgo: Iago, Shakespeare’s Iago, is a rich character because he is morally adrift. As a Virgo, that’s usually not an issue. As a Virgo, typically, there’s a good sense of direction. No moral ambiguity here. Not under normal circumstances.

These are not normal times. There’s a tiniest suggestion, a hint, that there will be a situation — in the next week — that requires a moral decision. Not really a tough call, not normally, for a Virgo. I would expect your Virgo ‘moral compass’ to always point to ‘true north.’

Stop and check yourself. It’s a birthday week, a birthday month, and a good time for temptations. Stop and check yourself before you make that ambiguous decision turn bad. Turn out badly.

I can’t offer real advice, I’d do the wrong thing because it was so much fun, as in, “It is easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”

I can get away with it. Can you, even with the birthday stuff?

Libra: “Tres Leches” is a fairly recent addition to dessert inventory. Although raised in Texas, I didn’t really begin to experience the delight that is “Tres Leches” until the last dozen years. In that time, I’ve had opportunities to try it in a number of locations with variety of experiences. One place, I rather enjoyed the hand-lettered sign on the wall, “Three-milk cake.” The restaurant itself was named for a beach town on the Pacific Coast of Mexico. Good version, but perhaps, not the best. The best?

The debate rages on. I have yet to find the very best “tres leche” dessert. I can think of two notable examples, one in a border town, along the troubled Mexican-US border. The delivery was classical European, a huge plate, a huge slice of basically angel-food cake, and most of a can of condensed-sweetened milk poured over, and left to puddle up on the plate as a sticky, gooey, sugary goodness.

The other one was a more formal, “cake in a flute” kind of presentation, more like cake, creams, sugars, icing, ice cream (maybe), all arranged in cocktail glass, or wine glass, or something, Champagne flute. Some kind of stemware. Also good, perhaps it was the dusting of cocoanut flakes with that one.

Those are two examples. I’m sure you have more, favorite desserts, favorite recipes, favorite sweets. The problem, like this week? There is no definitive answer. I gave two examples, with third in the running, as well.

There are no definitive answers. Which one is best?

Scorpio: I was having breakfast in a local diner-like place. It is a Texas-only chain of places, not unlike national chains with a number of offerings, but the best meal tends to be bacon and eggs, in a variety of combinations. Stick to what they do best, right? Not exactly the place I’d order a fancy French meal, or, for that matter, Tex-Mex. I hear the chili is good, but no, not for me. I stick to basics.

As a Scorpio, you stick to basics, too.

The problem really occurred when I went to shake up the Tabasco bottle. The top wasn’t securely fastened. I averted a disaster, well, given my taste in clothing, maybe not, but I didn’t splash my friend or the other diners, because I stopped and checked. Seems like a simple enough idea, now doesn’t it?

Failure to check? Tabasco ‘juice’ all over everything? Not really a big deal unless you get a drop in your eye. Then it is a big deal. I’ll save you the tears, check the top before you shake it. Stick to the simple plan, the basics, and check the top.

Sagittarius: I have one goal this next week. Don’t freak out. It’s that simple. The Almost Full Moon, the Saturn-Venus conjunction, after sunset? Reminds me of line from Shakespeare’s Henry IV, part 1. While we’re stacking up planet potentials, there’s always Mr. Mars in Leo, being nice to us.

The goal, quite simple, don’t freak out.

There’s a good chance there’s a big, hairy deal-io, sometime this next few days, and it will probably push the “OH NO, oh no, oh NO” button. Run around, screaming. Flap your arms. Our arms. Pant, look panic-stricken. Sweat, steam, shirk.

The goal? Don’t freak out. Cooler heads win the day. Freaking out is fun, but a bit too much drama-tinged.

The goal? Don’t freak out.

Capricorn: Intuition is strongly linked to emotions. Oddly enough, this is a time to listen to what your heart says. Listen to your feelings. Trust your instincts. There’s a situation, maybe more than one, and these situations require certain kind of “intuitive” solution.

Look: normally, you’re not any good at the “intuitive” thing. Normally, you don’t get it, and normally, this kind of solution would evade your Capricorn grasp.

Stop. Listen to the inner voices, the portents, the symbols, whatever it is that you find that is most clear for you. There’s a very simple solution, an easy way around this issue, the problems and confrontations in the next couple of days. Listen to the inner voices.

Listen to some of them. If you get too many “little voices in your head,” you might want to consider different medication, but for starters, the Capricorn intuition should work. Listen.

Aquarius: Two part complaint here. First off, the warning sign, not an airline I’m used to traveling, the warning sign read, “Reasonably sized roller bags only.” I liked that. Popped it into the fine print.

I have one suitcase that I affectionately refer to as a “steamer trunk,” due to the bag’s size and awkward handling. Don’t use it much these days. Useful for exceptionally long trips. That’s not a reasonably-sized roller-bag. It’s huge, like the nickname implies.

Part two of the complaint was someone, not me, trying to wrestle a suitcase like my “steamer trunk” on board that airplane. The guy at the counter? He just gave the person “that look,” as in “no way, san jose.”

When you get “That look,” and you, you’re an Aquarius, you know this ahead of time, but when you try to go against social convention? You’ll lose.

Two solutions: one, smaller baggage. Two, before you try to carry that stupid suitcase on? Look at the sign. It’s too big, won’t fit. Stop. Check it.

Pisces: I do very little printing. The last time I printed a book manuscript, been three or four years, but that last time? I burned through some expensive ink cartridges, just getting those 300 pages printed out. However, school has started now, and the “back to school” sales are almost all over. That means this is a good time to look at what stuff you need, not so much for the coming school year but for what’s up ahead in the Land of the Fish. Love me my Pisces, but you need a gentle nudge. Consider this the gentle nudge. What I’m shopping for, what you’re shopping for? Art supplies.

In my single example, it was a “dry erase marker,” on a whiteboard, and that image got tweaked and modified beyond recognition. I started with an analog, back-to-school sale, just a marker, and that turned into a background that eventually became a replacement logo. Art supplies, in and of themselves, art supplies don’t inspire. I have one buddy, a fresh, disposable pen is all he requires. Another works almost exclusively with “sharpies,” with their indelible ink. I prefer pencils, but I stepped out of my comfort zone, and I used a dry-erase marker.

Good results. Take inspiration where you find it, and it doesn’t hurt to have a few art supplies on hand.

Aries: I get my message from a number of sources, and in this example, for Aries? Pop culture: billboard ad. It was a campaign for a certain, well-know chain. The ad was a bottle of Tabasco and bottle of Pepto. Red and Pink, and some kind of comment about having everything covered. One irritates and the other soothes. Or one soothes and the other is pretty.

Tabasco, that’s like coke, right? A trademarked name that now means any hot sauce? What’s that called? I don’t recall.

The way I see you next few days, you can add spice, variety and texture, like the hot sauce, or you can smooth it all over with some bland — soothing — but really bland, flavorless material.

Texture is important. Ask the cooks. Ask the artists. What we’re looking for is texture. Flavor, substance that adds that special something.

For me? It should be obvious, I like the Tabasco. For Aries? Depends on what kind of a fire you’re trying to build. Or put out.

Taurus: I detest the cell phone game. The game that is played, and why do we call them cell phones, as they are all digital phones now? Anyway the game is played with competing offers for a variety of services. Cell, data, phone, inter-web, all of that on the phone? And for what price? Buddy shopped, and shopped hard. Spent more time looking at phones than really talking or otherwise using the phone. The deal, for my buddy, was to get the best deal. Price-to-features, locked, unlocked, no-contract, two-year contract, local, state-wide, national services plans, talk, text, shoot me an image of the big fish last weekend.

I pay a flat rate, unlimited, I think it’s unlimited everything. I pay just about $40 more than my buddy does, right now. I spend zero time looking, shopping, comparing, scratching my head, wondering, supposing, trying to second-guess the phone companies what’s next.

Is the time better spent shopping, or just pay a small amount more, and call it a done deal?

Gemini: The problem with this Virgo/Pisces Full Moon action? Haste. Most — okay, all that I know — Gemini are quick. Quick of mouth, quick of action, quick of deed. Except things that are better prolonged? Even then, a Gemini tends to be quicker than most. Not a condemnation by any stretch, no, I admire that ability to direct action, like, when “Right Now” isn’t soon enough? Hire a Gemini.

However, there’s a new way to try this. I’m not sure I can do this correctly, and the spell checker, editor and web guys might trash this, but it’s worth a shot: Festinare Lente. Latin, “Hurry slowly.” I didn’t say not to move with the usual Gemini haste, just do, like, more slowly. Full Moon and all.

Cancer: Yeah, I know, September, but it’s still hot. I was up early, had a series of weeks like this, up early, out for coffee and brisk morning walk before the (Virgo) sun pops up and then, I’m at home, with a tired paper cup of coffee I keep refilling, every hour, for the next 8-10 hours. It’s not all bad, as it’s been really horrendously muggy, and it’s still hot, and I don’t do as well as I used to, not in this heat. Might be “fall” in some parts of the country, but here?

Still hot. Summer-like hot.

As a gentle, kind, sweet Cancer person, the Moon-child, this heat can be withering. Here’s the clue, do like I do, get up, out, early. Still the best time for you. Something. Anything early is better than waiting around. I know, you like to sleep in, and I would, too, but I’ve got some material that I need to cover before my next reading, and this is the only way to do it.

Up and out, early. Get started while everyone else is still asleep. Early start gets you bigger rewards. It’s kind of like Fall Fishing classics, right?

The (mighty) Leo: Creme Brulee is a favorite dish. Pretty much just a custard, like, here, the last recipe I looked at? Cookbook astrology joke here.

It was raw eggs, cream, vanilla and touch of cinnamon, with the whole mess baked in a dish, then the surface was torched. Mars, in Leo, even now? You are the torch.

I tried to make this stuff once. Fired up the propane burner (soldering torch) to get the crisp top? Caramelized sugars and all?

Like Leo, right now, I probably don’t need to handle a torch, propane or otherwise. That’s not true, as I’ll always carry a torch for The Leo, but that’s symbolic, not an actual torch. In the case of the creme brullee? I burned it.

Careful, you’re probably going to do just like me, if you’re not extra careful, and really, Mars in a fires sign? The best fixed fire sign? Suggestion: stay away from hot things, like propane torches &c.

Incidentally, the English name for this dessert? “Burnt Cream.”