Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 8.7

“What is the jay more precious than the lark
Because his feathers are more beautiful?”

Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew [IV.iii.169-70]

Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 8.7

The (mighty) Leo: I hope the mighty Leo isn’t too terrified by this week’s birthday notices. Now we’re going to have a little language lesson. The word, “terrified?” It has the same root as the word “terrific.” “Terrific” used to really mean “get terrified.” Terrorized? Maybe that’s it. I’m not really the language guy. I enjoy what I do, but I’m as good as the next feller when it comes to abusing some part of speech. Birthright, I’m from Texas. I want you to be not terrified of the birthday thing. It’s terrific! Roots and meanings, what this is about, for a terrific Leo birthday? The Leo birthday. Not terrified. Terrific. Wow be it unto those who do not observe The Leo birthday.

Virgo: My mother always assured me, “It is bad manners — and a damn shame — to drink alone.” What would we do without the guidance of our mothers? With the planets where they are?

Let’s take advice from my own wee mum, and let’s think about that comment, about manners. Most of the strong Virgo stuff in an astrology chart is about manners, in one form or another. What matters now, is manners. Do it politely. Do it nicely. Do it together. Part of this clue for Virgo? Do it together. Drinking alone is no fun, or rather, and I am a bit of an expert on this, drinking is more fun with companions. Let’s keep this enjoyable. I can think of several exercises that are better with proper companionship.

Libra: I’ve had the weirdest craving lately, one that must be answered. It’s sort of a “summer-time sandwich,” way I see it. Mustard. Mustard and a tomato slice, preferably one of those big, juicy Beefsteak Tomatoes, one that’s been kept near freezing, down in the cooler section of the ice box, and then, sliced open. Red and bloody, juice squirting every direction. Seeds and the pulpy interior — reminds me of my youth and the neighbor man who used to grow tomatoes in his front yard.

Tomatoes, in the event you’re unaware, usually taste like the water they’re grown with. That was old, East Texas lake water, and sandy loam soil. A good tomato sandwich — with a spicy mustard — on thick-cut, moist whole-wheat bread? Perfect for a summer afternoon’s repast. It’s really a summer-only sandwich as it never tastes the same in the winter. Once it cools off? The flavors, the enjoyment of the experience, none of that fits quite right. Part of the problem is most of the winter tomatoes are grown someplace else. It’s still very summer-like in my neighborhood. As such, I have a craving for a specific summer sandwich. As a Libra, you have a similar “hankerin’ for” something. My solution? I’ll check the ice box, see if I picked up any of the New Braunfels’ tomatoes last week. There’s a simple solution to cure what might be perceived as “ailin’ you,” Libra. A summer sandwich. Simple, but the parts all have to be right, and that tomato? The main ingredient? Refrigerated.

This week? Best served chilled. Or cold, best served cold.

Scorpio: I made a careful and concerted study of typefaces. I was looking for an optimum type for the website. Websites, really, what works, what works best. What’s easiest to read. What are considered infallible rules of design than one should never break? What looks good on a phone’s tiny web browser, on a phablet, then a tablet, then a laptop, remember netbooks? One of those, too, and then a big screen. Like the mammoth, “bigger than my TV” computer screens some folks use. Bit of a challenge. This website is set in a “web safe,” kind of boring type face to insure maximum compatibility — across all platforms. Consider me “platform agnostic.” That careful study I did? What I learned, so far, is that there’s a handful of basic types that work well, across everything. Maybe not cool, maybe not this week’s darling of design, but still, a useful and practical approach. Useful, practical, devoid of swirls and affectations? Get a the clue? Stick to basics. It’s a Mars thing, and don’t let Mr. Mars distract you from simple and basic stuff that works, and works well. Stick to basics.

Sagittarius: I dated this one guy’s sister for a while. Sagittarius buddy, his sister? Never mind, my proclivities are well known. Me and my Sagittarius brother, we were discussing my relationship with his sister, and females in general. I allowed as how “Women are scary,” and let it slide at that even though, obviously, it referred to his family.

“Scary, evil and scandalous, too,” was his addendum.

I’m not sure if it was sibling rivalry, or some other brother-sister dynamic I was unaware of, but I nodded knowingly. To be fair, this is not gender-specific, but more “relationship-centric,” as in, the other party is the one who’s got the problem. How we relate is called into question. What we say, how we see it, and what we need, as Sagittarius? A sympathetic ear, maybe a shoulder, but I doubt I’ll be weeping on some buddy’s shoulder. Just sayin’. Or, in this case, I was whining about relationship stuff, and my fellow Sagittarius agreed, and offered solace from his version. Sometimes, no one gets the Sagittarius lament but ourselves.

“I’m here for you, baby.”

Capricorn: There’s a type of energy loose upon the Capricorn chart. I’d describe this kind of energy, in the short form, as “impatience.” It was at the end of a long summer that didn’t involve a lot of fishing poles for me. Which, you must admit, is a sad state of affairs. So, it was an August, not unlike last week, hot as blazes, on the water before first light, line in the water, and that first fish. Must’ve been a trophy size fish, too. I yanked back on that line, sure that I had a big, old lunker. Line snapped. “Man, these days,” my fishing buddy prodded me, gently, “you have to play them a little. Water’s been so hot, they’re like about half-cooked and soft, as it is.”

My Capricorn fishing buddies? Have to be gentle. I was so eager to get out and on the water, and so eager to feel the pull of a fish, I let that first one get away. Too eager, too hasty, too quick. Got a clue, now? Have to play them a little, have to be gentle. Less hauling, less horsing a fish into the boat, more finesse. Gentle, although, like me, that first strike, the first time the line moves? We’re sorely tempted to haul back start wrestling when a gentler hand would serve better.

Aquarius: I was struggling with a technical issue. Just about half a step beyond my current skill level. Wasn’t a big issue, just a tiny piece of code that wasn’t executing like I wanted it, as in, I was telling it to do something, but the web application was, “No way, dude.” Just a tiny snippet, only about, less than half of one of my regular sentences. Not much typing, but I knew, I had an error buried within. I found a tech guy who spoke the same language as I did, and I realized, he was doing to me what I try to do with my astrology: getting down to a usable set of terms. Finding common ground. Finding place where the technical stuff can be communicated in a useful manner. Which is what I was trying to do while addressing what’s happening in Aquarius. The problem is communication, no, not “Mercury in Retrograde,” but getting to a point where someone talks a little too techie for your understanding. I can address trines, squares, and lunar phases, or, to make it simpler, I can address energies. It’s a matter of finding someone who can communicate this week’s solution to the Aquarius puzzle. It’s out there. I’d like to think I got you off on a good start. Communication and solution, preferably, in language you understand.

Pisces: I was working on the horoscope that comes before Pisces, the “lesser 11” as some Pisces will refer to the other signs. I was, in the Aquarius Horoscope, dealing with a tech problem. As I spun around your planets and charts, looking for Pisces clues, the best one I came up with, so far?

“Ask the right questions.”

This is going to vary from individual to individual, but it’s a matter of asking the correct question. Questions. If I were dig up an example, I’d ask about a zillion questions, hunting and searching for the right question. That’s the quest for Pisces, now. The right question. Frame the question correctly, and the answer will make sense. Frame the question correctly, and there will be a pervasive sense of serenity for Pisces. Like that? Ask the question. It’s Mars, mostly, but the idea is to ask the right question to get there from here.

Aries: Ever get a wicked dose of insight, only you can’t tell anyone? Better yet, I’ve got two clients, they “dated” briefly, then went their separate ways. What was funny, the stories I got from each party? I’m not sure either one was actually discussing the same person I knew. No, seriously, two tales, completely different. Not an incompatible pair, just not the best for long-term relationships, those two. The insight, though, there’s a moment of clarity, where, as an Aries, you can see for miles and miles. You see, like, for forever. Great insight, only, like my two friends? You can’t talk about what it is that you see. You can’t communicate what you’ve heard. I’d be remiss in my duties as consultant to not point out that I’m marked by what I hear, and I can pretend to be thoroughly objective — but I’m only a lame Sagittarius, and certainly not as cool as an Aries. So here’s the deal, you have something, you know something, you’ve been told something — you have rare insight. The secret to this week’s Aries success? Sit on that secret.

Taurus: Tough call, next few days for Taurus. Since we can’t go fishing? How about you handle some of those routine chores — at home — that you’ve been meaning to get to? Just a thought. I have one last drawer to clean out before I haul stuff off to charity. Old T-shirts that have meaning but no longer fit? A couple of pulpy murder-mystery books that I’ll never read again? The dust bunnies collecting in the closet, under the stairs, in the back, behind my boots?

All little routine chores. Or, in my favorite examples, I was looking for documents, on the computer, documents that I no longer have word processing programs to open. Just the collected and un-collated crap that accumulates in lifetime? Digital ephemera? Or real dust bunnies, all depends, but I’m guessing there’s some digital crap you can unload. This would be a good week to tend to such matters. It’s not a really good replacement for fishing, but it might keep you out of trouble, tending to domestic chores instead of partying.

Gemini: “I can resist anything but temptation itself.” Ever heard that line before? As a Gemini, you can’t resist the temptation to be tempted. Remember, Gemini is the sign that proved — conclusively — that instant gratification takes too long. In the shortest, simplest way possible, this is a good time to resist temptation. I figured, Aquarius Full Moon, all the planets in Leo — Venus Jupiter Sun Mercury — this suggests a temptation to assume center stage. As a fan of all things, and I mean all things, Gemini, now is not the time to ascend the stage and bask in the warm glow of the limelight. Now is not the time to be the hero and accept the accolades. Now is a good time to quietly work behind the scenes to help assure a successful run. Step back. Stand apart from the crowd. After all, a Gemini alone, are you really alone? Or are you in some of the best company available?

Cancer: This was a “girl” thing, but the application can cross gender lines with ease. As an astrology consultant, one of the most popular questions I hear is, “When will he call me again?” The backstory is they broke up, he’s gone, and she wants him back. The clue here, guessing from obvious portents in your chart?

The clue is, he calls when you’re done pining away for him. Once you’re over him, once and for all? Gone from thought, gone from mind, the lingering musk of his scent, all of that is no longer present at all? That’s when he calls. That’s when he shows up. That’s when he’s back. Not until you’re strong enough to escape his grasp — completely — then, and only then, does he pop back up. It’s almost cruel, but then, there’s a cosmic lesson. Are you learning this one?

• Aperture: ƒ/1.8
• Camera: iPad Pro (11-inch)
• Taken: 29 November, 2022
• Flash fired: no
• Focal length: 3mm
• ISO: 80
• Shutter speed: 1/60s