Horoscopes starting 3.30.2017

    I am glad that my weak words
    Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.
    Cassius in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar 1.2.176-7

Venus moves — in apparent retrograde motion — from Aries into Pisces. More about that live — in Austin!

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Horoscopes starting 3.30.2017



The Ram

It’s starting to warm up, right? Time for a new spin on an old favorite of mine: iced espresso. The trick is, I like mine bitter and cold, but with the current disposition of planets and the sundry influences? New idea, take it for a spin. Pour/draw the espresso, the usual double shot, over a packet of raw sugar, maybe a heaping teaspoon. Then mix, stirring in the sugar. Sweeten that bitter brew. Next, add a dollop of a favorite milk, 2 percent, whole, almond, soy, cocoanut, whatever is your flavor. Milk should be cold, chilled. Finally, pour the now temperate coffee solution over ice. This insures that this is gentle, iced, non-bitter brew, with just the correct amount of kick to make it work right. Consider this a jolt of “Happy Birthday Aries” energy, and while I won’t be making it for you, it’s my sincere wish that this kind of shot helps with birthdays, and the strange disposition of the planets.



The Bull

I’m rather leery of software that stores data in a “Proprietary Format.” I tend to think of that as “My data,” and the format? “Their access code.” At one time, I was adept enough at computer skills — I was good enough to be able to figure a way to access the text stored in a proprietary format. These days? I can’t be bothered. I had an option to switch to a new kind of software for one of my main tasks, and as I examined the reviews, “Greatest Ever!” Then the underpinning structure, up came that expression, “Proprietary format.” Spells trouble for me.

I like my data, the stuff I use ever day, I love for it to be “portable,” like, transferable, if need be. Let’s say the company tanks, or the “Latest and Greatest” turns out to be a dud? This very-Taurus reflection is brought upon by a word-processor I paid big bucks for only to discover it wasn’t worth it. At all. Then, the software stored the processed words in a format that wasn’t exactly accessible, except in the program itself. These days, this is a bigger issue, but in the dawn of the computers, this was a larger problem as there were fewer “Export all as MS Word” routines built-in. Mars, joined by Mercury, be wary of “progress” that really isn’t progress. Examine the structure. Look under the hood, kick the tires.



The Twins

What was the musical reference? “It’s better to burn out than fade away?” Maybe, according to some, it is better to burn out rather than fade, slowly into obscurity. But this is not the Gemini way. “Gemini Way,” should be trademarked. As a right and proper Gemini mindset? Neither is a good option, at this moment. Neither fade out or burn away. But there’s only so much you can do, and learning wherein your Gemini limits are? Part of what this week’s lesson will be. What you can do, what you can’t do, what can get accomplished, and what was trying to take on way to too much and not giving yourself enough time to complete the project. Old rule, from management, about that.

“The first 90% of the given task takes 90% of the time. The remaining 10% takes the other 90% of the time.”

Do the math, it’s not hard, simple arithmetic, that’s nearly twice as long because there’s a sticking point, a part that gets hung up, some minor detail, and either you go back and rebuild from the beginning, or you push forward, still, it’s going to take approximately twice as long. Prevent burnout and prevent fading away by pacing yourself. Look at those numbers, although the project manager doesn’t allow for the contingency, to keep the Gemini from burning out or fading way? Make allowances.



The Crab

This is a focal point, this week, a place where there can be drastic change — for the Moon Child’s benefit — if you undertake the change. I was looking longly at a fishing pole, a bass pole I haven’t used in a some time. I took the pole down from the hooks in the garage, fitted the reel in its seat, and pulled line out through the pole’s eyelets. The fishing line on that one reel is more than a year old. Haven’t touched it in that long. Bothersome? Yes, a little troublesome to me that I haven’t used a bass pole in that long. What I started to do, strip the old fishing line off that reel, and then, there’s a sporting goods store around the corner, head up there, bought a small spool of fishing line, the stuff I like to use, the perfect balance between feel, light weight, and strength. I sat down, and carefully wound up that reel with new line, then hefted if, felt the familiar feel of a pole in my hand, a lightweight, super-strong bass pole. It’s familiar and yet, almost distant. Hadn’t used that one in over a year. Felt good. Got a good image? I hung the pole back up, with its cover stretched against the reel, now mounted. Figured something would happen. Bass are pretty much done spawning, now, and three days alter, a buddy calls me up, “Hey, want to sneak out to the lake this week?”

All from taking advantage of a focal point. Get the clue, Cancer?

The Leo:

The Leo

The Leo

Battery technology has really made progress. Used to be, think about this, I’ve been at this for quite some time, at the beginning of my career, I would plug a computer into a wall outlet before I could make any kind of an astrology chart calculation. Electricity was required and those first portable computers, they would last maybe an hour or two. Got used to picking location by wall so I would be guaranteed juice. My older phone, this is one two phones back, but the last time I seriously watched it? I could leave the house with half a charged battery and still have enough juice to make it all day. Walking, fishing, answering email and text, listening to music, or just talking on the phone. Great progress. Used to be, the “power brick” was the number one item I would make sure I had when I departed for any location. These days, a quick glance, and if there’s half a battery in the device, I’m good.

The question, then, would be “How much juice is left in The Leo battery,” at this moment? Half charge? For me, that’s good for three hours on the phone, plus a walk to the post office. That’s me. I’m not The Leo. Check the battery, first, and then, even in this day? Never hurts to prop it up and let it charge up, fully. Get that Leo battery charged up before you leave? I don’t know how well your battery operates with a half-charge? Me? I can go all day.



The Virgin

Real-time Virgo comment, from me? “I love you but you’re nuts.” Then I roll my shoulders. Easy enough to imagine as commentary from me, right? With the pressures on your Virgo self at this moment? There’s an insane dream, a big deal (to Virgo), an unreal proposition, an unreachable goal, an insurmountable obstacle, something seems too big, and the rest of us? We think you’re nuts for holding onto that dream. That fantasy, really, how it looks to us. But I’m not Virgo. Love them but I’m not one. Therein is the problem, the outside, to us, on the outside, it looks different than it does on the inside, over yonder — in Virgo.

People with no dreams, no aspirations, no hopes bigger than their immediate surroundings? We never make it far. Nothing pushes us, no desires, no records get broken, no mountains get scaled. The dream needs to stay alive, in the Virgo mind, but even so, there’s a touch of some kind of reality that needs to be folded into the Virgo mix. I suggested a touch of reality leavened into the Virgo batter. I didn’t suggest abandoning that dream.

Virgo: Never give up.



The Scales

“The Container Store,” in my mind, exploits OCD personality types. Offering all kinds of organizational devices, that promise, not always fulfill, but promise to offer the owner, the buyer, a chance to be thrifty, organized and more efficient — all for one low price. There’s always a catch, “These are the tools, you have to implement this material yourself.” Always catch, Libra dear, always a catch.

The array of planets, spread out against the night’s sky leaves Libra with a sense that something must be done, and nothing is happening.

It’s like that crap from the Container Store, nothing happens if we don’t sort through our material and then start storing it in the prescribed places, and following all the instructions? “Recycle what you no longer need,” best advice. But like the Container Store itself? Just making the purchase doesn’t mean that we are instantly organized.

“But I’ve got all the tools, now?”



The Scorpio

I listened while one person was describing how to work with a Scorpio, “I make her think it was her idea.” I would never try that, as I’m not brave enough to try and mess with a Scorpio’s head. Just not me, and just not my style. Scars. I still have emotional scars from one Scorpio, so very, very long ago. Love them — respect them, but I won’t do anything to mess with their heads. Not me.

So the one trick to “Working with a Scorpio,” is, supposedly, to make the Scorpio think it was their own idea.

Me? I just spit stuff out, usually with a Sagittarius lack of tact, but you knew that about me, and I would never try any tricks that would make Scorpio think it was their own ideas, bereft of collusion from me.

Take this concept, though and spin it around. You’ve got a situation, developing, and the trick is to make the other person think it’s his or her own idea to assist Scorpio. Good trick. Works on Scorpio, so it should work for Scorpio, as well.




If I were to line up all my former lovers, all in a row? Two patterns emerge. One obvious pattern? Until I consciously broke it? Lot of Virgo femme fatales in my life. The other part that stood out, lining up all the former flames? There’s a propensity towards “blonde.” Heavy indication in that direction. Might not all be true blond, but there are more blond than anything else.

One pundit suggested that lining up all of one’s ex’s would suggest other patterns, too, like a kind of mental instability, or the madness and a degenerative disease process in the brain. Not buying that one, not today, as I don’t see any signs of diseased mental process, other than the tendency to be attracted to Virgo women, and to have that love remain un-requited. Blondes, Virgo, and no body type. Thin, one was anorexic-looking, plus size, voluptuous, yes, no pattern, no shape. Thick, thin, brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes, red hair, no, no discernible pattern which is a pattern. Tall, short, large chest, small chest, no discernible pattern, well, one: Blonde. Who knew? It wasn’t until I started to assemble a line of former lovers that the pattern emerged. While I seriously don’t suggest gathering a number of former Sagittarius lovers all in one room at one time, or worse, trying to get them to all line up in a row? This kind off mental — Sagittarius — exercise is about seeing patterns in the larger grouping.

Example: I live in South Texas. I always swore, up and down, that I liked the dark brown and raven-like black hair that is so common. Evidence, my Sagittarius friend, suggests otherwise.



The Sea Goat

There’s a chain of health food stores, well, it’s a national chain, but each store feels like an individual farmer’s market, and anyway… So I tend to buy coffee, these days, in small, locally roasted batches. Not quite micro-brew, and not quite as “artisanal” as either Austin or Seattle, but close. However one afternoon, I was going to start making summer coffee, I bought a bag at that chain — all–natural — store. Good place to get organic eggs, locally produced fruit, but the coffee? I wasn’t too sure. After I brewed up a cup of the stuff, there was sudden sensation that I was unglued from reality and spun back, more than 20 years to old Austin, into a time when Whole Foods was a single store on Lamar. Old Austin-ites will relate. No one else will get it, but that’s not important, not for Capricorn.

Did I mention Austin is a Capricorn town?

Doesn’t matter. The sensation caused synesthesia — the idea that coffee that exactly matched 20, maybe 30 years back the same experience of coffee, tasted, to me, exactly the same. Along with that came a flood of memories, from old East Austin environments to lazy days when there wasn’t much traffic on the river, and it was then called, “Town Lake.”

One cup of coffee from a health food store brought this whole range of flashbacks. Careful, as Venus shifts backwards into Pisces? There will be a similar rush of old memories, possibly triggered by scent. Could be any number of causes, but the memories are re-lived. However, reliving a memory? That doesn’t make OK to sit in the past. Period. It’s quite all right to visit, for a moment, for the duration of one cup of coffee, but any longer than that? It’s not place you belong. We do have to know our roots, but we don’t have to spend too much time with them.



The Water Bearer

This was more fun when computers were attached to large Cathode Ray display screens, think: tube TV, before the current crop of flat-screen emerged. At that time, what I would do, I would suggest a client, in an online reading, hold his or her hand up to the screen, so I could sense the energy. At one point, I was working on a silly piece of web programming that looked like a scanner, on the screen. A framed band of green light would run up and down, then it would ask for a birthday. I would have it spit out something about the sun sign, you know, “You’re Aquarius and the current motion of Venus is making you rethink certain arrangements, even now…”

Never finished that web hack, and these days, I know there’s an app for that.

Still, as an idea? I’ve just handed you a set of keys to make your own — Aquarius-themed — app, or website, or whatever.

The trick to this week? It’s like my web-app thing I never finished. It looks like it does one thing, but when, in reality, it really works another way.



The Fishes

“Was that a Pink Taurus?” I asked. “No, I’m Pisces, why?” It was a friend’s posting on a website, sort of “Look what’s going on now,” and there was image of a Pink Taurus, looked like a 38. 380. Stubby barrel, it’s a firearm, a pistol, a brand called “Taurus.” That manufacturer makes a “Lady’s gun,” a pink-coated, gun. Dainty little thing. Cute, hot pink handles. See those weapons in the sporting goods store when I get a fishing license. It’s semi-auto, so probably need a spare clip. Not sure, myself. I’m not entering the gun debate, not on either side. I’ve got friends on both sides, and I live in Texas, where it’s just a matter of form. So the question, I was asking about one thing — a specific handgun in an image online — and the Pisces was playing, or rather, I think she was serious, “No, I’m a Pisces.”

This is about ‘literal’ versus ‘figurative.’ Literally, it was a Pink Taurus handgun. Figuratively? The interpretation was quite open. Stick to literal. That Pink Taurus? Looks like 6 plus 1, six in the clip and one in the chamber.

    For the record?
    I don’t own a handgun — or any sort of firearm.

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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