Non-Newtonian Horoscopes

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  The other day S. and I took the baby to see the waterfalls (or is that "waterfall"?  How many waters need to fall to make it plural?)  Anyway, she didn't seem to notice the falls but she's a good baby and seemed content to just hang out holding a graham cracker.  Aries, see if you can get someone to dress you up in a fleece thingy and carry you around for a few hours.  Bring your own graham cracker.  I think that's just what you need this week.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  The college boy was home for a bit which means I would get those phone calls downstairs, "Hello, handset one?  This is handset two.  Can you make me some bacon?"  Which one could find irritating or charming, depending on your POV.  I vote for charming, and keep making the bacon.  Sidebar:  if you are going to make bacon, don't be cheap about it.  Get good stuff, like Hempler's.  But back to your horoscope:  keep walking all the way around to the other side until things look good.  Wear rain gear and bring provisions.  It may be a long journey from where you are.  You being like a patient, not even etherized.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  So I'm sitting in the coffee shop trying to write horoscopes, and a little 7-year old girl whom I don't know came and sat at my table because she saw that we're both eating breakfast sandwiches.  "Isn't this the best sandwich ever?" she asked? "Yes!" I replied, hopefully not too enthusiastically.  And she went into a long commentary about the cheese, and how it melts and gets all over everything, and we were communing over the sandwich until her mother called her back to their table, and she went, but looked back at me with a little shrug, like I know, that's how it goes some times.  Gemini, that is how it goes sometimes.  Enjoy the moments.

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21:  It remains unclear whether Gold Bar is getting dissolved or not.  It's a little confusing, but don't be confused this week, Cancer.  Just breathe, have clarity, and don't dissolve, even if it's the will of the voters.  Be like a non-Newtonian fluid.  And I mean that in a good way.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  So I'm overhearing one of the people in the coffee shop answering the phone, and his first words were, "So, I'll see you tomorrow night.  Should I bring my handcuffs?"  To my credit, I stopped listening then, Leo.  Because I'm pretty sure that's a private conversation.  Anyway, listen in just the right amount this week.  Not a creepy amount.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  R. asked me where I was the other night, and I told him I was at a dance party from 7 to 8:30.  "Oh, wow, mom. A dance party that went from 7 to 8:30?  That's so cool!  Did anyone consider lingering until 8:35 or even 8:37?  Or did you guys have to all be in bed by 9?"  Yeah, anyway, Virgo, there's no shame in being in bed by 9.  Really.  All the cool kids are doing it.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  I had this dream the other night where I was giving away a mattress, and the guy who came to get it said, "So, does this just not fit you anymore?"  And there I was, in my dream, arguing with some random mattress-picker-upper guy about how mattresses are standard sizes, and there's really not such a thing as outgrowing a normal-sized mattress, and it's obvious that I have way too many beds here, yadda yadda yadda, and as I woke up I just thought, seriously?  In my sleep, that's what's going on?  Sheesh.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  So again, or should I say, still, I'm sitting in the coffee house, trying to write horoscopes, and I think I'm kind of stealth, no one really pays much attention to me sitting with a laptop in the corner, and I realized how I'd much rather be writing with a pen in a notebook, but for some reason, that looks too unabomberish.  Right?  Some cat lady in the corner scribbling in a notebook?  I think people's first thought in that situation is, "We should probably call someone...."  Somewhere along the way, longhand went spooky, at least at coffee shops.  But that's not even the point, Scorpio.  The point is that I'm sitting there, and the two people at the cool kids table asked me to define "several".  I held up seven fingers, and one of the men said, "see, six.  Six is several."  The other person was all, "No, but if it's a relationship, what's several years?"  I agreed that you could go lower, especially in a tedious relationship.  "Maybe three years could be several if the noun is relationship.  If it's rat infestation, I don't think three gets you there."  One of the people thought it was kind of sad that my first thought when asked about relationships was rats, but hey, it's the dark time of year, right?  Anyway, Scorpio, take nice walks with your people.  Lots of them!

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):    Strangely, as I sat there privately trying to write horoscopes, they said, "Hey, Betsy, can you get horoscopes on the internet?  We can't find that section of the paper."  And there I was with a blog full of horoscopes.  How often does that happen?  "Sure," I said, and scanned back over some old 'scopes.  I found a few that I thought could work, and read them.  A Cancer and a Leo.  "Wow.  Those are really weird," was all they said.  "Is that a regular newspaper?"  Luckily, The Librarian walked in about then, and everyone forgot what they were talking about.  Libraries are such a great resource, and librarians are even better.

Kowloon Walled City

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  Does your life sometimes feel like the walled City of Kowloon?  With 3.2 million people per square mile?  What I learned about Kowloon is that there was rampant prostitution, gambling, mafia activity, and unlicensed dentistry.  Is one of these things not like the other?  Like, forget about back alley abortions and organized crime -- we have unauthorized flossing happening on the 14th floor...  What this all means, in case it isn't obvious:  your week will be amazing.   I know.  That's what the stars say.



Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  Have you ever had that thing where you're writing a book, and you wish the trajectory involved "eat pray love," maybe without so much praying, but its turning out more like eat, dink around on the internet, get old and eat cat food?  I hate it when that happens.  R. suggests that I write the book as a thriller, loosely based on my life.  Aquarius, let that be the story of your week.  A thriller, in a good way.  A small but surmountable challenge, victory, then celebration.  Do it.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  So every year on Thanksgiving, I make invite all of the guests to make up a story about who Aunt Gladys was, and why we eat this steamed cranberry pudding.  I'd like to say that this year's crop of stories was particularly excellent, and involved insane asylums, time travel, portals, the war, and so much more that I can't recount them all.  So much better than that one awkward story that a random guest told last year -- that inappropriate pornographic-ish one.  I know, you're wondering about the "ish".  I guess I'm letting people come to their own conclusions, Pisces.  This week, do that.  Draw your conclusions, possibly with a purple crayon, and leave others to their own.  Oh, and hang out with me more too.  It is written in the stars.