Horoscopes: The Parenthesis Edition

I am without computer for 5 - 7 days (gasp!) because I left my Macbook with a boy genius named Curt who doesn't seem to have the ability to grow a beard yet, but I have great faith that it will all go down better than it would have with "Dave".  Anyway, I'm at the library and trying not to jones too badly for a computer. 

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  If I were young and rich and loved stories, I'd go to Transom's workshop in Nantucket to learn how to create podcasts.  (I first wrote that with "in Nantucket" at the end of the sentence, but I like to  think the workshop applies more broadly than that.)  I do love stories, but the rest. . .   Anyway, they make very few podcasts, but when they post something, it's totally worth it.  For example, consider this:  two blind parents had two blind children, who grew up to marry [other people], and had another blind child.  It makes sighted parenting seem like such a snap.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  The podcast for you, Taurus, is Too Much Information.  Benjamin Walker shares stories of quirky weird stuff that happens.  It's about breaking a babushka-shaped vodka bottle in Red Square, and it's about a translator who's date starts trying to pick up another woman (in the middle of their date) and asks her to translate.  (The annoyed translator doesn't bother to explain that the woman he's hitting on is a hooker.) And it's about humility.  In other words, its about your week.  Listen up.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  I wake up each day with so many questions.  How did that blind archer make it to the Olympics?  Will I do anything useful today?  What should I wear?  Should I eat granola today for the 363rd day in a row, or is it time to branch out an have an egg?  Will Obama's attack ads work?  How much is this blog worth?  ($12.64, if I slightly exaggerate the readership.  But, you have to have a willing buyer with ready financing.  Message me if that's you.)   What did those seven contradictory, separate mailings that I got from unemployment, all on the same day, mean?  Are my eyes watery because I got so much paint and grit in them yesterday, or am I just thinking too much about the blind archer?  Gemini, see if you can answer one or two questions, and then just put blinders on, and zoom through the day without questioning too much.

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21:  LA Theater Works is an exceptionally well done podcast.  They post a 2-hour dramatic production every week.  How is that even possible?  Maybe because Ed Asner is involved? Did you know that he's a 9-11 conspiracy theorist, Cancer?  I never was much of a conspiracy theorist, but times, they are a-changing. 

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  The other day I was painting the outside of the house, the way I do in miniature bursts of productivity every day.  (In fact, if my productivity were a dog, it would fit inside a small purse, and be welcome in most restaurants, due to it's unobtrusive nature.)  I was just about to give up and go swimming, when The Author appeared in her paint clothes, and painted along with me.  It was a small miracle, and reminded me that the way is dark, the road is steep, the painting is messy, the house is rotting, paint over tar paper doesn't look half bad, but you are not alone.  Your week will be like that.  You are not alone.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  The other day in yoga, I started thinking, wow, I may have actually acheived something.  My sense of smell is heightened.  I can really smell the lavender eye pillows.  Yep, I'm probably getting stronger in the nose area from all the downward dogs and stuff, I thought to myself.  When I open my eyes, my vision will probably be strangely clear too.  Then I learned that the eye pillows had been freshly doused with lavender oil.  Virgo, don't investigate the back story.  If you think things are getting better, just go with it.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):   I went to see a fine young teen in a production of Thoroughly Modern Millie last week, but it wasn't that easy, because in each scene, she had a different wig and costume, and with my facial recognition disorder, I had to lean over and ask C. every few minutes, "which one is she now?"  And each time, once I knew who she was, I noticed that she was the best tap dancer of all.  That will be like your week.  You'll be the best tap dancer of all.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  I was driving on the road near my house, and encountered an elderly woman sitting on a bale of hay, holding a sign on a stick that said, "Found:  Two Dogs".  She looked serious and a little bit grim, not unlike Whistler's Mother.  (In fact, I haven't seen this woman and Whistler's Mother at the same time, which may or may not be a coincidence.)  I drove back there the next day to look for her, but she wasn't out.  Did she give up, or were the dogs reunited with their person?  Does anyone know?

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): Do you ever have that thing where you haven't listened to your voice mail for a week, and then you do, and the big army base in the area has called for some consulting?  I hate that.  Sag, listen to your messages. It could be important.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  I have a friend who struggles with existential depression.  My friend gets up each day wondering if there's a point, and whether anything really matters because we'll all die soon enough.  Capricorn, you can trudge up the mountain, somberly realizing that you're going nowhere, or you can walk along, pick berries when they're in season, sing when you can, make art, find people and things to love, and forgive yourself for being exactly who you are.  It's not selling out to let go of The Big Question.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  Any restaurant who spells it "Fil-A" is probably not filled with your people anyway, Aquarius.  Cross it off the list.  Even the muppets won't eat there.  Hash tag hate chicken.  I am thinking of starting a restaurant called "Egg Keesh".  What do you think?  (I'm learning these good ideas in business bootcamp, which I'm unhappily enrolled in.)

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  There's a breed of dog called the Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever.  Have you heard of them?  They're super focused on one thing, which is you throwing the ball into the water.  Haven't they heard that you're the only one who can make yourself happy?  That's not your horoscope, Pisces.  Before we get to it, though, a question:  is tolling a verb in that dog's name?  Who pays the toll in that situation, the dog, or the duck?   And why do ducks swim over to see the wagging tail of these OCD dogs?  Okay, your horoscope:  this week will be a 9.  You will camp with friends, and eat, drink, and be very, very merry.


  1. Good luck with the computer......I am tap dancing my ass off over here.

  2. The Toller has webbed feet. Isn't that awesome?

    Tolling in this case means to draw or entice, which is what these dogs do to ducks. They are all splashy and happy and the ducks wonder what the heck is going on and follow the dog back to the duck blind, from which the hunters go Bang and then the dog brings in the duck bodies. I find it rather sad, but hunting for sport is a puzzle to me in the first place. P. S. I live in Nova Scotia but I am not a Pisces, so perhaps I am butting in, in an inappropriate manner, with all my Wiki-obtained info :)

    1. I think we're lucky to have a reporter on the scene in Nova Scotia to do some fact checking about the verb and the dog. I really don't see why the ducks are drawn to that tail, but they are pretty dogs.

  3. I am checking my messages, better; I am answering the phone when it rings so as to avoid the messages.

    1. You are one brave woman, Allison. I've got a ways to go before I start answering the phone, but baby steps.... start by checking messages.

  4. Well, I meant to comment when I read this the first time, but by the time I got to Pisces, which is my sign, my mind had taken a swim. Why are the duck tollers and not trollers? They lure the ducks because they look like foxes? That's trolling in my book. Anyway, cute dogs, and I wish the camping part was true. As it was, I did spend an entire 12 hours encamped at the lakefront watching volleyball, then enduring a 4 hour storm delay. It felt like camping, with being hungry and tired and sticky and everything being wet. I guess I was pretty merry, considering. I don't know how you do it, manage to write these fascinating and entertaining horoscopes, but I'm glad you do. Hope you're a Pisces and your horoscope came true. And about the podcasts? I need more hours in my day because there's so much to listen to. And I am still arguing on facebook with my Baptists-in-laws about the hatefulness of CFA support day. I like your take on things. And your Capricorn prediction? Made me really glad I stopped by. Keep up the good work and thanks ever so much for writing this.

    1. Oh, thanks for always being so encouraging!

      It sounds like your weekend was a lot like camping without quite as much loading crap into the cars, taking it out, getting it all wet and sticky and dirty, and then putting it back in the cars. And maybe the marshmallows.

      The reason I can listen to so many podcasts is because I'm awake a lot at night. That gives me lots of time.

      I'm curious about how your career change (?) is going. Keep me posted.


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