- “Truth will come to light,
murder cannot be hid long.”
- Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice (2.2.76-7)
Libra: Happy Birthday! Did you know, at the moment of conception, stop and think about this for a minute, at the moment of conception, you — cool Libra that you are — you spent about 30 minutes as a single cell. Everything else, what brings you to where you are, right now, right here, right now? What brought you this far? The bubbling, boiling, turgid, laconic, ironic, firm mass — and mess — that you are, at this very moment? The image of a single cell, that’s where we all started. That half hour, when you were just one? This next week, starts a little rough, but over the next few days, everything seems to even out. Here’s the trick: get ready to split. You’re going to do that “cellular” thing, where you split down the middle, divide in two, and then join together to become twice what you are at this moment. Pick, choose, think, decide. Where do you want to expend your Libra energy? What direction do you want this doubling effect to take place? Pick one. Two.
Scorpio: Local media traffic in advertising that is, to me, questionable? The local “strip” clubs, as in, stupidly named, “Gentlemen’s Clubs,” all of them feature lewd and lascivious advertising. Around here, the look tends to blond, alluring eyes with heavy make-up and what looks like a ton of airbrush, touch-up work. Not exactly my thing, but hey, we’re working with Scorpio and Saturn, right? Here’s the problem…
When, fair question, when are the “girls” (women, females, whatever is the correct name, dancers), when do the female forms featured in the advertising, when do those people show up to work? I’m not sure what the rules are, but my experiences, limited at best, is that the women in the ads and the women working any given day at lunch time? The two are only tangentially related. Mostly by gender and general willingness to appear in such a venue. Begins and ends there. Pretty much. Not exactly false advertising, but damn near it. As a Scorpio, what’s blatantly false? What’s close, but only related by the thinnest shards of reality? Does that fly with you? (Hint, not at all, as in, it does not go over well with Scorpio.)
Sagittarius: right after the weekend, we get this running jump on the way things are going to be. Venus enters Sagittarius. Does so by sliding in, sort of sideways. There’s a “lunar punctuation” to the Venus action, as well. Instead of being too active, instead of “taking the bull by the horns,” which is the typical Sagittarius way, instead of charging forward, I’d suggest we imitate the Venus Way. The Venusian Way. Do nothing. Or better yet, not so much “do nothing,” as it is let the good stuff find us. More matronly and less patronly.
Short, simple, sweet. Be available. Don’t chase. Be chased. Or chaste.
Capricorn: There are, as of this writing, three books sitting in a stack on my desk. There’s a Shakespeare scholarship book, recent, as in the last decade. There’s also a “new” Marcus Aurelius translation of his Meditations. Then there’s a book about Zen Buddhism, in true Zen terms, a very recent text, as in the last hundred years. That Zen book is a worn and respected tome, in its own right. The Zen roots are probably older than the Roman Marcus Aurelius, but in either case, they both point to material that centuries old, if not millenniums old. Here’s the deal, for Capricorn: respect the old ways. Traditions, rituals, even bureaucracies, respect the order. There’s a reason for that order. You want to change the old ways. Doesn’t work, does it? Ever try to shake a bureaucrat from his (or her) entrenched methods?
Good luck with that.
Respect the old ways. I covered neo-christianity, eastern mysticism, and Elizabethan Lit. Doesn’t have to be any of those, but I’m sure there’s something where you understand, it’s the old way and the old way is where we start.
Aquarius: Looking at Mars, almost done opposing you. Almost, not quite, but almost done? Reminded me of a little “situation” I had with previous landlord. Wasn’t that long ago. Guy turned out to be a jerk. He owed me my deposit. I cleaned the place, everything was left the way it was, there was no damage. I think I left the place cleaner, but that’s not where this all started. He said, Mr. Slumlord, he said he would send me a check for the full amount. You have my mailing address.
Couple of weeks go by, nothing. I send him a note. No answer. I call. No answer. I sent him a certified letter, a month later. No answer. It was about the time I fired off the third copy of my demand for recompense that the guy sent me my deposit. Not a huge amount, but it was something. Took three tries. Patience and three attempts, which had to include a certified note. Worth it? Yes. But it took three tries. I felt like I was pestering the guy. Which I was. Aquarius, follow me on this, fine line between patience and pestering. Which one is right for your situation? Remember Mr. Mars?
Pisces: The longer I’m around, the more I become aware of my responsibility, and what words carry extra meaning. There’s a point where a little caution is required. I get excited, exuberant, carried away, all talking fast and gesticulating? Got a good image of that? That’s when I’m most likely to make a mistake. Which is what I’m warning you about. I’m not saying, don’t get excited. I’m not saying don’t get involved. I’m not suggesting that you turn your back on fun, no, none of that. What I’m trying to get you to do is to keep from spouting off something, perhaps a little hyperbole, maybe an exaggeration, perhaps it was a white lie designed to punctuate a point? Something said in the excitement of the moment. I know I’m guilty of it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t get excited, it’s just, in the next couple of days, careful with what you spit out of your mouth. Or, like one example, what came out of an e-mail from me. You get the idea?
- “Yes! Yes, of course I do! I won’t mention anything about that thing, you know, last week? You and me? Not a word. Nope, won’t say a thing to anyone. Not me. I’m not talking about what happened, not one little bit. You can count on me to keep my mouth shut.”
Aries: Garlic as an aphrodisiac? It’s a problem, see, garlic’s good qualities, purportedly a very healthy spice, it has its drawbacks. Number one, the way it smells, afterwards. I love the burn of fresh garlic, slice open a little clove, peel back the dry skin and there, on the inside, a tasty, potent, strong morsel of spicy goodness. It has aromatic cleansing qualities. It’s quite useful in a kitchen, and garlic figures in as the “secret agent” in many of my own recipes, like chili. Or veggies, eggs, just about anything. One of my fishing buddies has this recipe, “You get some garlic and butter….” Where can this go wrong? One place, in the bedroom, where kissing is involved. One girlfriend insisted that it was okay, as long as we both had equal amounts of garlic. It’s a good idea, and garlic supposedly helps blood flow, again a bedroom turn-on, and again, that “garlic breath,” a turn-off. I’m unsure of who said it was aphrodisiac, but I have to think it’s more like a natural form of birth control. This week has that push-pull to it.
Taurus: As long as the Sun is in the Tropical Zodiac Sign of Libra, all week, as long as the Sun is in Libra? My Taurus friends need to learn how to work together. The key phrase, for surviving, thriving, and even triumphing in the next few days? “Works well with others.” It’s matter of working together towards a common goal. The phrase, “Works well with others,” is derived from one of those old-school employee evaluation forms. That’s the trick. As a Taurus, you can be steadfast in your loyal belief that your way is the best way. Usually, it is.
This is time, though, to concentrate on that evaluation form’s little catch-phrase. This is time to think longer term than before. This is a time, well, this is a time to think that you will get a compliment like, “Works well with others.”
Gemini: We have a Gemini starting point, a new idea, new job, new project. Starts this weekend. Saturday, Friday, Sunday. Sometime. Maybe next week, which, to most of my little Gemini friends, that means you start now. One Gemini buddy was looking for a new job. It was a very simple solution. Quick web search for resume template. Quick scan, not really a reading, just looked over the new way we’re supposed to print and distribute CV-type documents, and then? Bang out a new one. More like cut-n-paste the same old data into the new template, and save it. Then save a copy as a PDF, too. Keep that loaded as there’s a chance to send that out, in a moment’s notice, over the weekend. Look, these are merely the step one Gemini will use, validate, extrapolate and implement as need be, adjust for your own Gemini circumstances. It’s matter of prep work, then being ready to unload the prepared material. This weekend.
Cancer: Quite by accident, I stumbled into a morning libation as an adjunct to morning coffee. Previously, I’ve long been on a search for a distant childhood memory, a kind of drink that was served, I believe it is Southern in its origins, but we called it “Russian Tea.” It was ice tea, orange juice and some sweetener. I never could replicate the flavor entirely, apparently, it was mostly — think about its era — Tang and Lipton (Sugar and Lemon) Instant Tea. Never duplicated, though. My morning solution was going to be, this was a few weeks back, it was still way hot, it was green tea, now out of vogue, lemon juice, and honey. The secret was I accidentally poured too much honey in, almost a half of a jar. While that sure cured the acrid green tea bitterness, even to my unrefined palate, that was too much sweetener. However, after I added the lemon juice, that evened it out a little. That’s when I realized the old family “recipe” for Russian Tea was off. I’m betting, what I used to get? I’m sure it had some honey. Long lost, in the eons of time and Southern cooking, a footnote in the Cancer horoscope, and recipe for something that might really be left alone. As the week flows by, with all the upheaval, maybe you ought to leave it alone, too.
The (mighty) Leo: I was listening as a grandfather was giving advice to a granddaughter. I was seated with my back to his booth, and I couldn’t help but overhear. “Always leave wiggle room — never answer completely.” As near as I could piece together, the grandfather was explaining to the kids how to handle parents and questions about activities, presumably with grandparents. White hair, friendly, avuncular, calm and stentorian, all at once, the advice was sound. I’d like to take that advice, from a grandfather to a couple of grandkids, and I’d like to pass it on to might, mighty Leo. Deal is, “Always leave wiggle room — never answer completely.” That little tidbit of advice? I overheard it. I can’t follow it myself. I can’t leave myself wiggle room. Normally, a Leo is firm and sure about a situation. Not this week. Take that grandpa’s advice, what he told his grandkids, hell, sounded like he might’ve been a lawyer at one time, good advice. This week, for might Leo?
“Always leave wiggle room — never answer completely.”
I’ve encountered this, more often than not, across a certain demographic, the “Are you willing to barter, negotiate a price reduction, free samples” attitude. I’m not willing to do any of that. I will entertain artful, well-argued pleas for charity, but I should warn you I do charity, I tithe, on my own and I don’t feel obligated to give any of it away.
But that’s not what this is about for my little Virgo friends. This is about raising your rates so you can offer a discount. The problem being, if you have to raise your rates to offer the discount? Should there also be a nuisance charge? Or what I call “annoyance tax” added?
So, in order to help you with your Fall Virgo Pricing, steal my line, “I’ll be happy to raise the prices so I can offer you a discount.”