The Week Ahead

Aries (3/21 – 4/19): The other day, I met M. for a picnic at the river, and as we met, she handed me what looked like a loaf of homemade bread.  It surprised me, because she lives in a tent.
"Wow, thank you!  This looks homemade!"

"Oh, no, I got it from a dumpster.  But it was only like, 45 minutes after they put it in there, I think.  I knew you'd like that."

Which I totally did.  The whole thing.  The picnic, the gift, the fact that she gathered 37 loaves of bread from a dumpster and started giving them out.  Aries, you'll get some unexpected gifts this week.  Accept them with grace.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  So the other day, I was walking by the gum wall when the man behind me stopped to marvel at it.  I know!  He was just staring at it, saying, "Nice."

I walked back to talk to him, and yes, let him know that I'm the curator.  "Do you like the gum wall?" I asked.

"Very much," he replied, and stood there staring at it for a while longer.

There are cultures, I hear, that don't have a word for the color blue, and in those cultures, people are unable to identify the color in a line up, even though they have the capacity to see it.  I guess what I'm saying here, is that maybe nobody had the ability to notice the significance of the gum wall until it was named.  Do you think so, Taurus?

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  Not to make all the horoscopes about the gum wall, but last week, I went for a beer, and as soon as I walked in, the bartender said, "The gum wall is looking awesome!"  It reminds me, Gemini, that life is so short, and we're all milling about looking for things to celebrate and marvel over.  We celebrate to keep the hounds at bay.  If nothing else is available, we'll celebrate chewed up gum.  You could find that depressing or inspiring, depending.  Pick inspiring when you get the chance, Gemini.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  I noticed this tree in the river, which is odd, right?  Completely submerged, and it's not even close to flood season, although the river is a little high still.  I mentioned it to my companion, who said, "Wait, isn't that a tulip tree?"  Which it was, making it all the more strange, because they don't even live around here.  Vacationing, I suppose.  Cancer, why haven't we planned a vacation yet?  Lt's do it.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  The other day, I overheard a woman say to the man she was sitting with,

"Do you like the comic, 'Peanuts'?

"It's okay," he replied.

"I just love it, myself.  Ever since I was little, I've really associated with Lucy.  She reminds me of me."

I had some advice for that man, but I didn't want to meddle, so I kept my mouth shut.  Leo, watch out for the Lucys this week.  They are so disappointing.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  Finally, Redhook has taken that hideous "Cheers to Ben Harris" off the bottle caps.  It's about time.  But they've just defaulted to the same lame half dozen sayings.  I tried their new beer, Redhook Wisecracker Wit, even though it's a wheat beer, not my fave, because I thought there might be wit involved.  Which is a reasonable assumption, right?  I'm so not crazy.  And they had a joke about Ginger/ Marianne on the label which was a little funny, but alas, the same dumb sayings on the cap.  It's going to be a disappointing week, Virgo, but stay open, in spite of everything.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  Why don't we know exactly where the Biderbost site is, Libra?  Shouldn't we go there? I guess we'll have to settle for going to the museum, which contains desiccated relics of the magical real place.  So much of life is like that.  One or 16 steps removed from the actual magical thing.  But it could be worse.  Anyway, if you figure out where it is, can we go there?  Maybe have a picnic or just breathe for a while?

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Oh, Scorpio.  What would I do without you?  Anyway.  I was apologizing to someone I don't know very well for something tiny, at least I hope it was tiny, but as soon as I started saying I was sorry, I got this huge lump in my throat and couldn't really finish my sentence because I was sort of weepy, making it super awkward.  Because, really, it was a tiny thing, every-so-slightly bigger than accidentally stepping on someone's toe the day before.  But the words have power importantanc, and no matter what the context, it evokes that thing.  Scorpio, evoke that thing this week without all of the awkwardness.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  I try to assume the best from people and imagine that everyone's doing the best they can, and that most of the harm that happens is unintentional.  Keep believing that, even when it doesn't look that way, because it's probably true.  If a butterfly lands on your nose, appreciate it and try not to swat it away, even if it's annoying and you can't quite see past it, because there is some good luck and magic there.  Don't lose track of that.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  I was sitting in the coffee house the other day and saw one of the lovely young women come in crying, as she has for the past several days.  She received hugs from a few friends.  I texted her an encouraging message from across the room because I didn't want to intrude.  She left.  I asked, after she'd gone, "Are all these tears about a boy?"  "Yep."  I guess that's the way of the world.  Women crying about some boy or another, and men going, huh?  I had no idea!  But maybe that's where art comes from, and maybe it's better to have the capacity to feel and care deeply than not, and maybe it's better to be the one who can cry than the one who's chosen not to feel any more.  Or at least that's what we comfort ourselves with, because secretly, it looks a whole lot easier to not give a shit.  (Oh, did I say that out loud?)

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  Oh, you want to know how the lawnmower situation is?  Unchanged.    Pretty

much everything is unchanged.  But I have a tip about the to do list:  if you stop adding to it, it will eventually get shorter.  Some things will just drop right off with no effort, and some things, you can rename. That's all I've got for you, Aquarius, but it could be useful.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  Someone shared a Ghandi quote with me this week, "I will not let anyone walk through my mind with dirty feet."  That seems like a good strategy, if you can pull it off.  So many problems, though. No one means to have dirty feet, that's for sure.  And you really don't notice the feet are dirty until after the mud has been tracked in, right?  So Ghandi, as great as you were, that's just not super useful.  I think it's better to be able to forgive those dirty feet, for surely, they meant no harm.  Or just get dark carpeting in there.