Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 8.14

    “That she loves him with an enraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought.”
    Shakespeare’s Much Ado about Nothing [II.iii.101]

Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 8.14.2014

LeoThe (mighty) Leo: “Out of her mind,” might be another way to use the opening quote. Something we’ve all seen, I’m sure. As the (happy birthday baby) majestic Lion, with several planet influences coursing through your heavens, there’s that “out of my mind” energy. I’d like to pull you back down, just about half a notch. Not much, just a half-tick to the left, or right, whichever way you prefer. Just step back for a second. Think about this, all the flowers and boxes of candy, or whatever? Be kind, be nice, but don’t overdo it.

Virgo: Images only seen in Texas, part whatever? Early morning, on the freeway, big pick-up truck with a single sticker in the rear window, “I (heart) my tractor.” While this was in San Antonio, it could be anyplace in Texas, with the proximity of arable land. With the shoulder to Texas Hill Country, Austin and San Antonio, to the east is broad rolling coastal prairie, rich and fertile. Reminds me of a Hamlet quote for next week.

The “I (heart) my tractor,” sticker, against a quote from Shakespeare highlights the way this moves for Virgo. What is strange is that there’s nothing strange about an, “I heart my tractor” sticker, and living in Texas. This week, what does Virgo (heart)?

Libra: A buddy, back in the day, bought one of the first Prius (Hybrid) cars in Austin. Keeping with Austin’s whole “green” theme? Sure. The first year models might be some kind of a car-collectible now, although, technically, not the first hybrid on the market, it was, for some time, the most popular. So my buddy and her Prius? It was black. Very cool looking. I once drove one of those through El Paso, a Prius, and I got close to 70 mile to a gallon, at the time. So my friend’s Prius, the black one? “It was looks, I mean, how cool is black?” Really cool, except, in Texas, especially in a hot summer. That black heats up in no time, and stays hot, blistering hot, throughout the day — think about it, jet black, cloudless days? So now how cool is that car? Personally, it always impressed me, but I liked it for the emotional appeal of an early trendsetter, and the ominous, obscure glistening black paint. When does coolness and appearance win out over practicality and function? What would you do, Libra?

Scorpio: One of the most frequent questions I ask is, “What’s the strangest question you get asked?” What I’m looking for, as a “forever” tourist in my adopted home of San Antonio, are the questions, often tourists, that are incongruous. In Seattle, one summer many years back, I had the same query in a specialty donut shop. Counter help, a Scorpio, he told me the best — so far — more than once — he claimed, “How many are in your dozen?” As far north, and with its reputation, as it is, Seattle might count differently. Or, as I’ve come to discover, tourists, as we leave home, we seem to leave our senses behind. There’s a Scorpio situation you’re dealing with, and common sense applies. Only, the Scorpio in you wants to complicate, extirpate, or explicate. Or maybe all three, with an emphasis on complicate. I’d suggest, before you ask the question, mull it over, in your mind, sound it out, think about it, and see if you can avoid asking a question that makes us want to mock you, like, “How many donuts are in a dozen.”

Sagittarius: Several years ago, I mentioned that there’s a strong Shakespeare Conspiracy Group. Coalition, really, in academic circles. One of the luminaries of the academic and performance Shakespeare world suggested that anyone but Shakespeare wrote Shakespeare. He would change his mind often as the block of his hat. With less than 40 plays to his name, the Shakespeare canon is both prolific and limited. The idea that there’s more spent on this field of research, the Shakespeare Conspiracy Theories, to the point that a British university offers a course in it, goes a long way in validating that maybe there’s some substance to the Theories. Is there a Sagittarius Conspiracy afoot, even now?

Capricorn: Over the years, I’ve developed a standard reaction when I’m asked to perform an unpleasant task. My first answer is, “No, I’d rather not.” As a majestic and mighty Capricorn, this kind of reaction almost becomes a point of pride, the automatic, “No, I’d rather not.” There’s a symbolic structure in the patterns of the planets, and that structure means your first, seems instinctual, reaction is one where the quick and facile answer is, “No, I’d rather not.” There is a sticking point. That first reaction? Might not serve you best. What seems like an unpleasant task? That? I can’t promise it’s not bad, but it is a job you might want to consider undertaking because, further down the Capricorn road, this might pay well. If your first reaction is to say, “No, I’d rather not?” Might be time to pause and rethink the answer, looking at all the details.

Aquarius: One too many times, I’ve heard this, “Diet and exercise.” One too many times, I’ve admonished, after looking at a chart, the cure is, “Diet and exercise.” To finish that off, what was the last thing the doctor said to me after looking at my most recent blood work? “Diet and exercise.” My recipes now appear on the weblog, kramerw.com, but for a while, they also appeared at astrofish.net/xenon, the old weblog. That old site gave birth to a book, called Two Meat Tuesday, again, more data at TwoMeatTuesday.com. The diet part, there are recipes for cookies and ice cream, with affectionate odes written to BBQ, rich in stuff that might not be too good for us. Which leads us back to the answer to the question, what works best for Aquarius? “Diet and exercise.” I can’t make a suggestion, as my Aquarius clients are varied, from strict ‘vegan’ to ‘meat and potatoes only’ in scope. The exercise varies from, “Getting out of bed is enough of an effort for today,” to “run five miles every morning.” What works best for you? Change one aspect in here. The catch phrase, “Diet and exercise?” Change one of those, this week, working towards a healthier you.

Pisces: Focus, clarity and direction are important. “Yes, well, you would say something like that,” snaps a certain Pisces, back at me. Clarity comes with the short form.

Aries: I was working on a project with a buddy, and he was busy telling me what to do. As CO-workers, CO-conspirators, as COmpadres on this project, we were, supposedly, equal. How I wound up being “managed,” and my buddy wound up being the “manager?” I’d say it’s a mystery, but it’s not, not really. I let it happen. Some days, it’s just easier if I listen to him with one ear, then do what I want with the material in our hands. He talked, I worked, he managed. Way it goes, sometimes. I did discover that the less time spent talking meant there was more time available to complete the project we were working on, and between the two of us, I did about three-quarters of the work. Not very “50/50 split” if you ask me. However, in this situation, it was work, it was a cool project, and I did demonstrate that I knew more than the manager as I crafted the project’s details, and coerced the material in a usable form. less, Aries, talk less, work more.

Taurus: At least one therapist, or similar self-help guru would have trouble with my suggestion for Taurus, this week. Still, my material stands on its own merit, for good or for ill. This is about discomfort in Taurus land, in the Taurus charts, the Taurus area of a chart. Supreme discomfort? Maybe. Maybe not, sort of depends on what angle you’re at, exactly. How bad you catch this one? Up to you. Still, the point I was trying to get across? Don’t make a big deal out of your discomfort. I mean, if it is something serious, like a heart attack or similar problem? Sure, rush to the hospital. I am certainly no medical doctor. However, emotional pain, or presumed emotional pain? That’s the problem area for Taurus. The solution, as I see it, despite loud and long protestations from elsewhere? Maybe keep it yourself for a little while. Maybe sit there and mope rather than loudly declaring that there is this immense emotional burden you’ve chosen to shoulder, all by your Taurus self. With no help from anyone, thank-you-very-much. The short form? Zip it. Keep quiet. In the grand scheme, you’re better served with a degree of silent servitude, instead of loudly proclaiming you’ve been egregiously wronged. The short form? Zip it.

Gemini: Two or three weeks from now, Mars will align with Saturn. (8/25/2014) This occurs in the Gemini chart in spot where it should focus your attention on a career issue. The deal is, in Gemini time, that distant spot is so far away, it warrants no attention now. (Squirrel!)

My job is to get you to tidy up one corner of the Gemini mind, one corner of the Gemini world, one piece that needs to be done before that distant alignment. It’s so far away, you don’t really want to think about it now. However, it’s my job to remind you it’s your job to deal with that missing plank to the Gemini platform, the part that has to be done first? (Now?) My goal is to get you to attempt that before we get to the fateful day.

As my father used to say, “It’s too late to drain the swamp when you’re up to your butt in alligators.” (Gemini: Drain swamp now.)

Cancer: For a while, I collected the most obnoxious coffee-drink calls I could find, like a “mocha-white chocolate-blueberry-mint frappe with sprinkles and diet whip,” which according to my sources, tasted like cough syrup. I wasn’t sure if I read the sign correctly, but it was advertising a “Dirty Pumpkin.” Where I live, in Texas, it is way too soon to advertise Fall Season drinks. So the ‘dirty pumpkin’ is a chai-tea latte, either hot or cold, with a shot of espresso. Put like that, it almost sounds good. Almost.

I’d guess, on a cold winter morning, the sticky-sweet, acrid chai-tea would be extra toasty with that shot of espresso. I can’t imagine having one of those things iced, but then, I like bitter and cold iced coffee, no sugar, no creamer, just strong, black water and ice cubes. Perhaps I shouldn’t be the judge of coffee shop drinks that aren’t pure coffee. Perhaps, like me and the Dirty Pumpkin, my little Moon Children shouldn’t be the judge of something we clearly have no expertise judging. In other words? Leave it alone if it doesn’t sound good to you.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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