Chop off his head!

Gloucester in Shakespeare’s Richard III (3.1.193)

Yes, what some will say, right?

Jupiter starts an annual retrograde this week, in Scorpio. “But what does that mean for me?” Included in the horoscopes —

Horoscopes starting 3.8.2018

Pisces

The term “outlaw” has a rich heritage in both denotation and connotation. In my own parlance it generally refers to a person or entity that falls outside of mainstream definitions. For years, I would think of myself as an “Outlaw Astrologer,” as I didn’t fit in any confined spaces well. Then, too, I was from Austin when it was outlaw territory, the improbable rise of the the Outlaw Country Music thing, with our heroes and performers all claiming the title of “Outlaw.”

The question, for Pisces, on your birthdays, is “How outlaw is ‘outlaw’ if everyone else is doing, too?”

There is no quick answer, but as you encounter some folks, in this next few days, who claim to be “Outlaw” — think about it in terms of individuals who are all falling within the bell curve of normal, now.

“Outlaw?” Really?

Aries

Recent Aries ink? “None but ourselves.” There was a much longer explanation that went along with it, but that’s where it started. I was intrigued because the ink seemed to be the perfect Aries sentiment. Little signature inside left wrist. But its real meaning?

Further conversation with the person wearing that ink? The message wasn’t supposed to appear self-centered, like some folks will say about Aries, but that ink was supposed to remind that person, “If it is meant to be, then it is up to me.”

Venus and Mercury, plus Uranus, all in Aries? But not the Sun, still lingering in watery Pisces? Next few days feels like you’re all alone. No one else to help you. Think about that ink, “None but ourselves,” and think about how that works for your Aries self at the moment.

Aries hint: You aren’t really alone, but it might seem like that at the moment.

Taurus

One person called me a “Chili Head.” I’m unsure of what that means, but I can deduce it has something to do with liking hot peppers. Or chili. Or, preferably, both. There is a nuanced flavor to various chilis that I try. I grabbed some chili powder, I have three little baggies from New Mexico, and grabbed one, basic red with some dark flecks of dried, smoked ancho peppers was my guess.

Real chili powder varies from harvest to harvest, even batch to batch, as to flavor, heat quotient, and essence of what makes a good chili powder. I suppose, not unlike coffee, the grind is important, too.

This was a coarser grind, and I didn’t really recognize the darker flakes. I dumped some on the soup. A little clump was in my first bite.

Hot stuff. Really hot stuff. I don’t know if it was Habanero blended with cayenne and ancho, or if it was something else. Some other part of the process, maybe, like I observed, the grind was coarser than I’m used to.

The heat didn’t quench the essence of what I was looking for, that smoke-filled flavor from the ancho peppers. Important part of the process.

Taurus, two things, always test the peppers before dumping them in, and remember that the goal is the essence of the flavor, not just hot for hot’s sake.

Gemini

One of the biggest problems I’ve got is snippets of poetry that echo around in my head. Doggerel verse, left over from previous incarnations, epic poetry and canto from University studies, and beyond. I didn’t say any of this was useful trivia, and therein is the problem with this week’s Gemini energy.

While amusing when playing to certain circles of friends, it doesn’t always translate well to some situations. One guy I fish with thinks I’m prattling nonsense. To him, I’m sure that it is. To me, it’s a snippet of discussion between two characters in one of Shakespeare’s plays. To that one fishing buddy? Utter nonsense and noise that makes no sense to him.

There’s a time — and place — to echo our doggerel verse. There’s a time — and place — to recite our great founts of Gemini wisdom. Have to remember, there is a time — and place — for such a display of electric Gemini wit.

Think about me, before you start spouting off material that your own Gemini brains find fascinating. I’ll agree it’s pretty amazing, but think about the time — and place — to do that so everyone present can enjoy it.

Instead of thinking I’m some kind of a nut job.

Cancer

Anyone who’s met my family, my immediate family, is quickly aware how bright I must be. I figured out familial relations and I’ve navigated past issues to arrive where I have. Unlike many of my family members, I can seek out the simplest, most direct solution to an issue. I can do this with a minimum of fuss and complications.

I’ve given up on my own birthright to needlessly complicate matters. I’ve surrendered that genetic predisposition to making a simple task infinitely more complex by including needles variable, contingencies, and hardware that might — or probably not — be required.

Cancer: transcend that need to complicate and further obfuscate a situation wherein there is an obvious — and simple — solution.

“No, no, that was too easy.”

Cancer: That’s the point. Take the easy way out.

Seriously.

The Leo

Pretty sure it was a typo of one form or another, but the name — it was at a fancy place — the name for the dish was “Airline Chicken.”

At one point in my life, I was repeatedly subjected to airplane food. It’s not a choice I would make, but there is the idea that food has to be cooked, sealed, then warmed up, after hurtling through the atmosphere at 500 mile an hour or whatever. No, not my first choice for dining experiences.

However, as a lesson for The Leo? Don’t condemn an item based upon its name alone. The chicken dish looked good, think it was grilled with garlic butter, over saffron rice, and the rice had fresh peas. Not frozen, but garden-green fresh peas. Pretty good. The garlic wasn’t too strong, and the downside was the canned, or processed, or whatever, “Vegetable Medley” that was served alongside the “Airline Chicken.”

Win some, lose some. The chicken was really well-prepared and properly executed, as a main dish.

The Leo: Do not judge a product, like a dish, and especially not now as Jupiter turns retrograde and Mars heads towards Capricorn, do not judge until you’ve tasted it.

Virgo

I love coming up solutions to problems. Part of what I like to do, and how I navigate my way along with the stars. Solutions to problems. It’s a perfect weekly metaphor right here, isn’t it?

I was shopping online. Found an item that I think I need. The advertised product was on a sales list an it required me to click through to see the price. I’m not fond of that, but I understand, it’s the first step in getting a sounder to make a commitment. As I clerked through, though, I realized, I have a “smart hone” that already does just what that device was advertized as doing.

Do I need another piece of equipment, albeit , at a cheap price, that does one thing, and that’s something I can get my phone to do, with the added advantage, I’ll usually have a phone with me.

Virgo: Pains me as it might, this week? Don’t buy. Don’t purchase, acquire, or otherwise agree to deal that might, or might not, be an item that perceive that you need.

Want? Yes, I want one. Need? Yeah, maybe not so much. Look, you can do that on your phone, I think?

Libra

Memories run deep. Back in the good old days, which were neither, I owned an older model pickup. Meant I was the friend to call, usually around the last couple of days of the month, or the first of the month for a hasty move. Like moving in or, more often, getting kicked out.

One year, I was helping a friend move, and I drove passed a certain highway intersection in Austin, with the winter rains then the spring sunshine, each day, I did three loads, one per day, and each day, that one highway intersection grew more and more Bluebonnets. It was — at first — a riot of sky blue against a field of light green, and then, by the end of the moving period, nasty break-up for some friends, that one highway intersection had wildflowers spilling over into the highway itself.

With the pressure from the Aries corner of the sky, the little slice that currently holds Uranus, Venus, and Mercury? As a Libra, it’s important to find that beauty where it is; and like this example? Sometimes, right in front of us, starting at the edge of the Libra highway, and eventually? Spilling over onto the Libra highway itself.

Scorpio

Fishing buddy, Scorpio’s make excellent fishing buddies, any way, a Scorpio fishing buddy bought a new boat, at the boat show, “Killer deal!” My — astrological — advice was the not buy. Look, it’s a sweet center-console, outboard with a four-stroke, 200 on the back. Fish radar, couple of good tackle lockers, nice ride. Excellent, good enough for the coastal bays, but also quite a treat on some of the lakes, especially the bigger lakes here. Just, astrologically, this wasn’t the best time for him to buy. He got those “Low-low-LOW!” Boat show payments. Good deal, right? Other than freezing our butts off one February afternoon, I’ve not been on the boat much. It’s currently parked in his driveway, Live Oak leaves settling in, and he’s bemoaning his fate.

Turns out the same boat, or similar model, just went on sale. Granted, this is six weeks later, and I can’t go back and warn the guy six weeks previously.

As a good Scorpio, though, you know what’s happening, right? As Jupiter slows down, there’s a bit of buyer’s remorse as you realize the promises that made when Jupiter was exerting all that positive pressure? Might have over-reached a little bit?

“But this boat, it will pay for itself in five years!”

Great ideas. But seriously, big ticket items with a payment plan? Pause. I didn’t say don’t shop, or look, or kick the tires, but pause before you sign on the dotted line.

Sagittarius

I can’t start a March horoscope without mentioning the bass that are bedding, even now. In some parts of the country, it is still very much winter. In places, even — perhaps — the furtherest reaches of North Texas, it might still be chilly. Around here, though, the bass are on beds, and it is almost “Bass Spring Break,” which is a term of my own imagination.

Bedding bass can be great fun to fish for, and soon, all of the spawn will be over, and there’s a fresh of crop of new fish. Equally amusing, though, is fishing at this time. It can be a great, but it can also be exceedingly frustrating.

That level of frustration is the Sagittarius notice, for this next few days.

“Sight fishing for bedding bass” is working along the edges of the waterways and finding spots where a couple of guys — male Black Bass — are guarding a nest where a female has dropped about 4,000 eggs. The frustration stems from two sources, one, “sight fishing” means if we can see the fish, the fish can see us, and fish tend to have better eyesight. Two, the fish are guarding the nest, not interested in tasty bait.

It can be frustrating, but it can also be rewarding. Last week? It was rewarding, and this week? Same guys, same lake, same bait, no luck. That’s a source of frustration — Sagittarius frustration.

Capricorn

A regular client — person I see on a frequent basis as a consultant — was sharing deep, intimate knowledge with me. This client’s been with me for years, now. Looked at me, and then explained that something I said at that very first meeting, then repeated the expression, that meant the whole world to that one client. I gained a life-long client who swears by my services because of an off-the-cuff comment.

My expression itself, at the time, it was a throw-away statement, and to me, an obvious truth. To that one person, though, it was blindingly obvious — after it came out of my mouth.

There are some items that are so true, yet we are unwilling to acknowledge, or even recognize that there is truth there.

There are two sides to this horoscope, for Capricorn and Saturn’s sojourn. You never know when a bumper-sticker becomes wisdom and you never know what is so obvious you’ve missed it all these years until someone else points it out to you.

Could be as simple as just reading it off a bumper-sticker, although, no, that wasn’t really the case.

Aquarius

Making coffee, the other morning, I realized I had the perfect way to express this week’s Aquarius energies. I watch as the best of the baristas twiddle, adjust, and produce excellent espresso from machines that look rather complicated. The coolest looking ones are usually burnished copper with brass fittings, and steam-punk looking levers, perhaps a glass tube for measuring millibars — or something. Wonderful in appearance, and yes, in the right hands, does produce exquisite coffee-based beverages. With a smooth operator, just wonderful devices, with whooshing, and gurgling noises that ever so aurally satisfying.

For many long years, I favored a French Press. Ground coffee. Hot water. Presto, instant coffee that is quite good. Recently, I’ve opted for a filter set-up again, just for convince and easier clean-up. Not that it matters.

Look online, there are 100’s of way to make coffee, each purporting to be the best. What I’ve found — and I’ve experimented — the simplest ways are best. Two methods stand out. 1. The aforementioned French Press. Works great. Probably comes closest to extracting the truest of the coffee flavors. 2. The pour-over, in its many guises, like, I either do a single cup or a Chemex, and I do tend to find the Chemex works best.

The trick is? There is no trick. Highly convoluted, intricate, all manners of devices and hoses, hardware that can go bad? Therein is the problem.

Simpler works best. No need to complicate this situation. No amount of hoses, bells, tubes, brass fittings, arcane plumbing, and long levers works any better than the simplest process.

“Dude, it looks like a Mr. Coffee!”

Aquarius: Ain’t broke. Don’t fix it.

astrofish.net/travel for appearances

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