Bid them prepare within;
I am to blame to be thus waited for.

Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar (II.ii.119-20)

New Moon Leo 8/4 6:14 AM 12 Leo
Venus enters Virgo 8/4 9:23 PM
Mercury Retrograde 8/4 11:56 PM 4 Virgo

The Leo

Once, in the last decade, I’ve swiped a card at the gas pump, and it said, “See cashier inside,” once, I’ve gone in. One time, last ten years, maybe longer than that. Even when I didn’t own a car or truck, I kept a gas card in my wallet. At one time, the gas pump readers were notorious for being replaced with scam scanners so I used a gas card as a form of protection, and if I was scammed, then the limit was low enough to not be a problem. But that’s not the Leo birthday issue. There’s another number, goes against that one time, when the pump says “See cashier inside,” that I’ve skipped. Card or scanner didn’t work? I’m not wandering into the storefront to just pay for gas. I’m as affable as a good, gregarious majestic Leo, but I do have that sentiment, I’m not sure I want to interact with humanity in one of its lowest forms, the convenience store/gas station lifestyle. Wondrous, mighty Leo, when is it time, when is it OK to motor on to the next station when this one says, “Please see cashier inside?”

Virgo

I tend to dust many of my own kitchen creations with cayenne pepper. In a former life, I found that paprika was popular, for its smokey allure, and its roots are the same as cayenne: both are a form capiscum. One’s a little hotter than the other.

I learned the cayenne tricks in old Austin, when experimentation and fusion cuisine was truly on the edge of change, and melting weird stuff together. It’s one of the last hold-outs that I’ve got, and the pepper itself, it varies greatly from source to source as to heat content. I’ve learned that I have to try just a little, more as a sprinkle of color than as strong flavor agent, at least, at first. This next week? In Virgo land? Treat everything as untried, and therefore, unknown cayenne. Or paprika. Can’t tell until you test it. Test a tiny amount, first.

Libra

Organization. Being organized is important. For me, I have an unusual way to group my books. I go by author, and usually subject matter, and then, to get even more granular, I try to do it in published order. I’m only partially successful, but that kind of organization is what works for me. Then, too, I have always maintained a single shelf of books, close to my desk, where I have reference material. Grammar guides, or, “grammar porn,” for my own edification, although, looking at my body of work, there is scant evidence to support that I’ve used such guides. There’s a handful of well-thumbed astrological references, including some of my own, in draft state. Then there are a couple of dual-language, Latin-English and English-Greek, my ancient tomes for references and amusement, both astrological, and metaphysical in nature. But how is this organized? One Virgo (not Libra) organized all books by size and color. A visually impactful display, but useless for me. Still a nice way to organize, and for Libra? Organization is what this is all about. Now. Not later. By color, by size, by topic, or, like me, by books I use the most.

Scorpio

Many years distant, I stumbled into the perfect outwear for me. It was a form of river guide shorts, looked like normal cargo shorts, but the outer pockets all had multiple drain holes, grommets, and the inner pockets were mesh-lined. The material itself was crinkly nylon that eventually became soft and smooth with wear. Over the years, though, the shorts started to wear out, and I never could find a suitable replacement. Enter regular cargo shorts: the bane of beauty everywhere. But the shorts are super-practical for me. I can fit chapstick, phone, knife, multi-tool, pen & paper pad, wallet, and keys, with room for more. The biggest challenge was courthouse security, and even then, I just stood there, emptying my pockets, and patting myself down to make a sure everything was out. At the end of the day, as I drop my shorts, there’s usually a clunk, as I realize there’s something I left in a pocket, boat key ring, fishing gear, never can tell. No live bait, but that could happen, I suppose. Looking ahead? Looking ahead for Scorpio? The answer is “cargo shorts.” You can stuff any number of useful items into the pockets, and then, forget about it until you need that item. Not fashionable. Not stylish. Ubiquitous and functional, and you need room to store extra crap.

Sagittarius

Face-to-face with situation over which I have no control? Zero influence, no input, and nothing for me to do? When this situation is right there, in my Sagittarius visage, or, “All up in my business,” or whatever expression fits? When that’s right there, and it seems like there is no escape, and one must do something? What do we have to do, collectively, as the mighty archers? Examine the set-up, first, and agree, this isn’t a problem we created, nor, is it a problem that we can solve easily, nor is it really our trouble, but someone seems set on saddling us with this karmic debt, making it our problem, when, in fact, it isn’t really ours. Does not belong to gentle Sagittarius. “Not my problem.” Repeat as often as need be. There are some problems that are our collective Sagittarius problems, but this week’s crap? How much is our own doing, and is there really anything we can do to save the day?

“Wow, looks like you’re in quite a pickle, dude.”

Capricorn

Can we turn on its ear? Can we twist it sideways enough than it doesn’t upset the apple cart yet we get a different point of view? Can we mix old tropes and cliché metaphors in order to get us to look at this differently? That’s the real point to this week’s Capricorn mess of planet energies, looking at it from a different vantage point. Put the horse before the cart. Put the arrow back in the quiver. Or, a personal favorite? “It’s not rocket surgery.” A malapropism is just another way to see material that doesn’t quite line up, but then the material doesn’t quite not line up, as well. While it sounds like I might try talking out of both sides of my mouth — or other openings? That’s not what this is about. A few degrees off of what is Capricorn center is all this takes. I didn’t say far off, or some roundabout way that turns everything upside down, but a slightly eccentric view — even by Capricorn standards — that’s all it takes to win.

“Think different.”

Aquarius

Last place I lived, the kitchen had an eclectic stove-top. Been many years since I’ve lived someplace with gas, come to think of it. Anyway, the electric stove top, I would heat up the water in a whistling kettle, then pour over the coffee grounds to make morning go-juice. Standard fare. With that electric top, the range would stay warm for longer than I was used to, and setting the kettle back in the exact same spot meant it would lightly whistle for a few moments. This is a function of residual, retained heat. Applied physics, to some, or just simple kitchen chemistry. Despite the electric nature of that stove’s top, just shutting off the power supply doesn’t mean it immediately goes cold. For Aquarius? Just flipping the switch doesn’t mean that we’re done, just yet. Still warm, maybe even scalding hot, to the touch. Not saying this is bad, as it kept the water warm enough to make full 8-cup pour-over of coffee. However, it was still hot to the touch, and hot enough to burn. Do you want to get burned, Aquarius?

Pisces

In times like this, the Moon, the Sun, The Leo, Mercury and so forth? I break down my time into distinct little slots with allotted minutes, hours, for certain tasks. Looks like three, hand-written notes to self about specific targets I want to hit. Then, in proper outline form, there are sub-headings, sometimes a line drawn to a different location to allow a further elucidation or breaking a single task into multiple, smaller tasks. It’s complicated but it’s not. Certain steps in hitting that very Pisces goal?

Certain steps require a further break-down into more minute and discrete objects, or sub-routines.

Aries

It’s about how we stack this crap up. How we pile one item onto another, and in what order, to achieve the desired results. Aries can be duly process-oriented, when the situation dictates that. When the need arises. When circumstances suggest that the process is how the desired outcome is achieved. That means? Get involved in process rather than reaching for a singular destination. More along the lines of “Go this way, or in that direction,” rather than, “here is the map and the X marks the exact spot.” Me, since I’m not Aries, but certainly Aries compatible, I understand the desire to have a single set of carefully delineated steps that achieve the specific goal. Not how this week, or, for that matter, the next six weeks, works. It’s about the approximate steps, the direction we all head, and then, see where that lands us, and after that? Keeping an eye on the Aries compass that points in the general direction of where we’re all going, but no, we don’t have definite route picked out. It’s a process to get there.

Taurus

In an employment situation? I was trying to explain that the future employer should be looking for the laziest person to fill that position. To a Taurus? This makes no sense, but follow along with my logic — Kramer Astrology Logic. Pick the laziest, the most interested in doing as little as possible to get by, and therefore? That person will work harder at not doing hard work, which is the goal of the exercise. Find the one willing to spend hours crafting a way around having to do the same, repetitively onerous task, over and over. This is how it works: lazy guy (me) spent most of a week figuring out how to automate a task I didn’t enjoy. That solution then becomes a product to sell, and while I spent several days working on it? I realize I could just perform the function itself in less time, and be done with it? The idea of letting the machine do the repetitive stuff is what this all about. Easiest way to prevent a robot uprising, too. Hire the lazy ones.

Gemini

Stop me if I’ve used this before. Based on my understanding of the old Texas Drivers’ Code, the driver’s manual for a license? The way I have to stop, if I was on a motorcycle, a full and complete stop behind a stop sign? The way, the defining way to tell if it was a full and complete stop? Have to put a foot a down. At one time, I was adept at rolling up, complete stop, look both ways, and smoothly accelerate away, having achieved balanced full stop without putting a foot down. Motorcycle riding skills, long since rusted and faded away. However, the legal — as I understand it — local definition is putting down a foot. Think about that kind of pause as Mr. Mercury begins his journey. Pause long enough to put a foot down, even if you don’t think you need to. It’s a formality, but saves, or prevents, future legal woes.

Cancer

I get hung up on certain imagery, and I can’t shake it. There are tropes that become metaphors, and then those images get over-used to the point it becomes almost comical. A clear example is bad guys wearing black hats. In my example for Cancer, the ubiquitous Moon Children? The image is cause by the Moon’s positions, Mars and Jupiter close in Gemini, and the Sun in Leo. There’s a sweeping motion, and if it were me, but it’s not, but if it were me? I’d use a dust pan to collect what you’re trying to sweep under the carpet. It’s a quick, little clean-up action and most people would be just sweeping this out the door. Summer. Hot in Texas, who wants to open the door? I’ll just lift up the mat, and sweep it under there. See the problem? No? What happens when the mat is moved. What happens when someone rearranges the kitchen? I suggested a dust pan as the easiest solution, and one thing you should know about me by now? I hate duplicate work. I already swept that under the carpet, why should I have to address it again?

• 8.1994
• 8.2004
• 8.2014

Horoscopes for 7-30-2024

• 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