Horoscopes, in which Spanx are never mentioned. (Bra-llelujah)

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):    It only takes about three minutes of talking to me before I bring it back to a podcast I've listened to, and I'm conflicted between working on that and okay with it.  On the "okay with it" side, I learn stuff I didn't know, like why the birds are angry. On the "working on it" side, do I really care?  I've never played the game.  But at least I feel like I can lurk on the periphery of pop culture by knowing what pissed the birds off:  a pig took their eggs.  This week, I've been evangelizing about a podcast called The Truth, movies for the ear.  Check it out, Aries, but don't listen to the moon graffiti one just yet.  It's a little bit sad.  I'd recommend Cake, which contains the line,"I’m sorry, I just don’t have time to talk to someone weird right now.” Carry that line around with you this week.  You may need it.  And who's ear doesn't need a good movie now and again?

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  The other day, I answered my phone at work, and got this: "I don't know if you're the right person to call, but in Whatcom County, they're making sidewalks out of ground up toilets.  I'd like for us to do that here..."

I liked how she said "us", because already, I felt like part of the team.  "So, are you wondering if we'd allow ground up toilets as a building material?"

"Oh, no.  I just want you to do that too."

Now it wasn't "us", but "you".   Like, am I supposed to go around the county knocking on doors, collecting old toilets, and grinding them up?   I did what I try to do with my teenager, which is ask non-judgmental clarifying questions.  "So, do you smoke a lot of pot? live in King County?"

"No, but I'm thinking of buying property.  There are no sidewalks in the new neighborhood, and I was hoping we could do this.  Can I send you the article?"

"So, by 'we can do this', do you mean you'd like to install sidewalks in your neighborhood?"

"I want the sidewalks all over the county to be made out of recycled toilets.  It would be great in my neighborhood, but that's not why I'm calling.  I'm calling to give you an idea of something you could do."  I didn't have the heart to explain it all, so I let it go on.  And on.  Because if I started to explain, it would sound like a speech I got from one of my bosses, the talk I affectionately refer to as  "The P Orbital Speech."  (See Aquarius.)

It was touching on so many levels that I didn't want to hang up, because this earnest, conscientious citizen has identified a problem and a solution, and called The Government.   Unlike Aries, you do have time to talk to someone weird.  And for just this one week, live as if the biggest problem in the world is too many toilets, not enough sidewalks.

Photo stolen without permission from Cake Boss

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):   The other day, Cake Boss and I made dandelion jelly, and when I say "we" made it, I mean she located the recipe, harvested 385 dandelion flowers, rinsed and soaked them overnight, got the jars and the lids and the pectin and sugar ready, and I showed up and stirred vigorously for ten minutes.  Anyway, one cool bi-product of the project is what I am calling the dandelion placenta -- a non-Newtonian patty of dandelion-ness.  I believe, Gemini, that if we were to claim these patties have anti-inflammatory properties leading to reduced mental and physical suffering, they would fetch a tidy sum.  But don't do that.  Just enjoy the actual goodness of the dandelions this year; don't exploit them.

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21:  One thing I'm not going to miss at all about my job is the complicated people who call.  Last week, a woman called, and it went like this.

Her:  Hi, do you remember me?
Me:  Um,. . .
Her:  I came in to talk to you about my property?
Me:  Um...
Her:  It was about two years ago?
Me:  Uh, where's your property?
Her:  North.  And it was on a Thursday?

Oh, it was a Thursday, I thought.  Now I know what you're talking about.  Yeah, lot's of Thursdays have happened, but I think the next one will be the best ever.  Prepare.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  It seems like it takes forever to memorize things these days, which, I guess is just how it goes.  At any rate, I used to listen to a song I liked, and learn the words without too much effort, but now, not so much.  I have to make song sheets for the shower. I print out lyrics, put clear contact paper over them, and use the little suction cups (remember the things that that weren't much good for hanging Christmas lights?), so I can sing in the shower with words.  It sounds ridiculous, as if I'm practicing for a performance, but the fact of the matter is, I just want to be able to sing alone in my car.  Leo, maybe you should sing more this week, and remember that you have a beautiful voice and a ton of talent, and that's all you really need, right?  Don't hide your light under a bushel?  (Does anyone have experience hiding their light under a bushel?  What is a bushel, anyway?)

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  April 26 is national “Put a poem in your pocket day.”  Are you prepared?  If not, put this in your pocket right now, and don’t change your pocket until then.  Hey, and if you work downtown, coffee Monday at 1ish?

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  You know that part where you get laid off, but it's a long, lingering thing, sort of like, "Hey, let's break up at the end of summer, because we're going to different colleges.  Oh wait, you aren't going to college and I am..."  Yeah, that thing.  But every so often, some special project comes up that you're uniquely qualified for and they want you to do that thing before you go, and it's more like, "Hey, I know we broke up, but my grandmother's coming to town, and she sort of liked you, and she doesn't know we broke up, but would you be able to take her shopping and have us over for dinner when she comes?  Because she isn't going to live long, and it would be good if we could just pretend."  Anyway, Libra, if that's your story, just go along with it.  What's the downside of taking grandma shopping One More Time?

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  What's the deal with the wildly popular chinplant?  A leading expert on the matter says, "This will give you a more prominent chin, but it won't make you happier."  I'd like to see the data on that, myself.  But if you are considering the chinplant, I'd like to suggest you mock something up with the dandelion placenta and wear that for a few days before you go through with it.  In fact, I think that might be an actual requirement before insurance will pay for the procedure.  Come by if you need some non-Newtonian dandelion stuff.  Come by anyway, in fact.  Your chin is lovely just the way it is.  I feel like I might not say that enough to my loved ones.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  Yesterday I had a lovely dinner with some friends and their children, and someone mentioned that I have a blog.  I was asked what the name of it was, and when I said it, and I'm not exaggerating, every single person did the jaw drop thing, and said, "Wait, you don't have cats?"  I know.  I tried to talk them down, like, hey, I seem like I have fewer than ten cats, right?  It got pretty quiet.  Anyway, the point being that there's stuff happening that doesn't make sense.  Make the best of it.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  People keep telling me that they overslept, and I'm pretty sure that's not true.  They slept the right amount.  It's the timely ones who probably under-slept, right?  Why isn't that a phrase in our language?  "Sorry I'm so slow to catch on here, I underslept last night..."  Capricorn, with the long and beautiful days we're having, it's easy to undersleep, but don't do it!  We need your sharp mind on the problems.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  The P Orbital speech goes like this:
Boss:  Betsy, if what I care about is represented by this dot [draws on white board], what I peripherally care about can be represented by this area here [draws circle around dot].  There may be an even larger sphere [draws larger circle around the other circle] that I could be talked into being interested in.  I would put your idea [walks across room to different white board, and draws the dot way far away from everything else while still remaining on this planet] over here.  Aquarius, you might feel a little like that this week.  But if you have anything to spare, gather your friends and relations, and feed Tent City one of these nights.  (I know that doesn't seem like much of a horoscope, unlike all the others.  Good thing you people are flexible.)

Artist rendition of the P Orbital speech

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  On my first day of work at this job, so many years ago, one of the grading mafia guys came up to me, introduced himself by explaining that he was an ambassador to the extra-terrestrials, and he'll help me out when they come.  "They'll ask if you want to be food or slave, and I'll get you  your first choice," he explained.  "Food.  Tell them food, please."  Pisces, apparently that was the wrong answer, because he hardly ever spoke to me again.  At this point, I'm not sure that I have an in with any ambassadors.  If you do, can you make my wishes be known?  (Now that's a horoscope, right?)