Horoscopes: The Skull Edition

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  Here's something fascinating, Aries:  this post.  Don't you want to do the DNA testing now?  I bet I can find a groupon.  In fact, someone told me he could hook me up with a groupon, because his son, the product of a sperm donor, used one for DNA testing.  When someone tells you that, do you get to ask questions?  NO!  Aries, NO.  That's how someone ends up learning way too much, being a human listening post.  (What is a listening post anyway?)  See, I'm only on the first one and I'm already headed off to google something.  I'm thinking of a genome party, where we all spit in a vial, mail the kits back, and reconvene for the results, presuming they aren't too sad.  In or out?  Aries, if you do DNA testing, I promise to create a chart or graph of some sort with the data.  It's going to be a good week for you.  I can just tell.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  A while back, maybe in February, there was a bad smell in my

barn, the smell of something dead.  I call it a barn although there aren't animals in there, at least none that I've invited.  It's filled with junk important stuff that my ex-husband gathered, empty-ish paint cans, two kayaks, lots of bicycles, a recycling and garbage bin, potting soil, a million plastic pots, like a gigantic junk drawer that hasn't been cleaned in a decade.  But back to the smell.  I ignored it, the way I do, because bad smells are related to dead things, and dead things rot and the problem goes away, right?  My favorite thing about bad smells is that they are quite possibly the only problem that gets better with ignoring.  So I went out there the other day and looked in this gigantic bucket, and there was something dead and formerly fluffy in there.  I'm soaking the skull in clorox and we'll see what it reveals.  I'm not good at keying out skulls.  Last time I found one in the woods, I keyed it out and ended up at polar bear.  I'm pretty sure that was wrong.  But Taurus, find the silver lining in things this week.  There's even good news about bad smells.


Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): Last week, a friend said this to me about a guy who rents her basement apartment:  "The only time he leaves his house is to go to his electroshock therapy appointments."  It wasn't one of those funny exaggerations; it was just a sad, true fact.  This makes me feel super together, Gemini.  I'm not that guy!  And neither are you.  We leave the house for other stuff too.  If you can't find anything else to be proud of right now, be proud of that.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  I'm stressed about work for the first time in about 25 years, because a dear friend has entrusted some huge projects to me while she's galavanting in Europe, and every few minutes I think how bad it would be all around if I screw up. Men on backhoes call to ask questions that mystify me, and I make stuff up provide solid answers, and hope I'm not fucking things up too badly. But I guess that's what we do in our lives.  We just do the best we can with the tiny bits of information we have, and try not to mess things up too badly. Rock on, Cancer.  It seems like you never mess stuff up.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  Back to the skull: So, I realized that I should probably reassemble the whole skelton and figure out what it is, right?  So that I can make a shallow grave, marked with, for example, "RIP, Weasel."  That seems like the right thing to do, and not only that, but how often do you get a puzzle with all the pieces definitely still in the box?  Right?  This animal died in a bucket!  Leo, take on some fun puzzles this week, but don't agonize.  Set that rock down.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  There's been a tiny blanket miracle recently at yoga, which is:  there used to be two blankets with the red/pink color scheme, and now there are three!  I know!  I've studied the blankets quite a bit, as some of you know, and I can't quite figure this out, but I guess some mysteries are meant to be enjoyed, not studied, and this is one of them.  That's what your week is for, too, Virgo.  To be cherished, not studied. 

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  I was in the coffee shop, taking attendance, and trying to decide if it's creepy or flattering that I privately take attendance, and make tiny comments in my head or, uh oh, out loud, like, "Oh, so, you're late today."  And the weird thing is, people I don't know tell me why.  Like, they look kind of alarmed, and start saying, "well, my wife and I [there's always a big to do about mentioning The Wife] decided to have pancakes this morning, because blueberries are in season...."  Anyway, it gets boring quickly, and makes me wish I were like the parents of the 5 year old I was hanging out with recently.   She started telling a Very Long Story that took maybe 15 minutes, and the parents kept saying, "could you get to the interesting part, honey?"  I so wish we could say that to the adults, Libra.  Really.  But do your best to not bore the other humans this week.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  It turns out I have an imaginary life in my head that's way bigger than my real life, where I get a huge kick, privately, of taking attendance at a coffee shop, for example.  I also share a cubicle with a coworker whom I rarely see, because we stagger our time.  I started doing this thing, and then restrained myself, of playing out an imaginary shitty relationship on the white board we share, because I'm only going to be sharing the cube for a limited number of weeks.  Like, "Hey, welcome home!  Would you mind taking the dog out for a walk a little more often?"  And then the next week it would be, "Hey, it's great to have you back again, but the dog?  And is it in my head, or does it seem like I always do the laundry around here?"  And maybe the next week it would be, "Look.  I'm sure you have a lot on your mind, but the dog?"  And so on, til I eventually move out. And I was cracking myself up but decided it would just be too weird for my coworker, and that very day, I learned that my daughter, who's a farming intern, has an imaginary intern named Claire. Anytime M. is asked to do something, the thought bubble over her head says, "Jeez, why is it always me?  Why don't you ever ask Claire to do anything?"  And so on.  Claire's kind of a slacker, I guess. Anyway, Scorp, enjoy your imagination this week.  It's all we have, in the end.  Instead of LOL, let's start, "LIH" (Laughing in head.)  Oh wait, we are so not those people!  We leave the house for other reasons than shock therapy.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  So, R. dropped by yesterday, and we talked and swam across the lake and before dinner, I made him a gin & tonic because that's what civilized people do in the summer.  He said, "Hey, I have a bottle of Bombay gin at my house in Oly!  My boss bought it for me at the end of the year because I was the best worker."  I will say right out loud, unashamedly, that I was proud of my son not just because he was the best worker, but because he selected top shelf gin when offered a choice.  (Why would I even care about that?  RIght?)  "It's kind of cool, Mom.  Every day, we go adventuring around Oly, we ride our bikes all over, like to the artesian well or the beach,  and at 8:00, I make a round of G & T's for the boys.
"Do you know what we believe in, R," I asked.
"Yes, Mom.  We believe in being decent to the other humans."
"Yes!  AND, we believe in adventures, and in celebrating, and making fun out of whatever's around, and making things festive where you can."  
"I know, Mom."
It is indeed good to have adult children, especially ones who are honest and kind and fun and know what we believe in.  Sag, be that again this week.  Honest and kind and fun and clear with what you're about.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  Your horoscope, Capricorn, is the beautiful intersection of me having all of these bones, and at the same time, wanting to come up with some get-rich-quick scheme.  How's this:  Sell-a-patella?  Right?  You have to agree that it's catchy.  It could be a multi-level thing, with other representatives selling too, working for commission.  Because I have, I believe, eight weasel knees, and a quick search of Craig's List suggests that no one else has had this idea!  Capricorn, your hard work will pay off, some day.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  Back to the skull.   (Does it seem like I'm obsessed?) So I'm at a party, and mention to a friend that I'm soaking the bones in clorox.  He looks panicky.  "Never soak a skull in clorox because the bones deteriorate."  He looks like I should probably leave the party right away, but I decide another hour or two won't hurt, but you can bet that I rinsed the bones off before I went to bed.  "You need to put it in a bucket with water and horse manure.  Two horse apples in a bucket of water."  I don't know why I brought that up.  Maybe to distract from what else was happening at the party, which is that I was getting a lot of flack about my hair, of having the look of someone who drinks a glass of wine and watches a youtube video about cutting hair, and goes for it.  Which is exactly true, but I don't really see a problem with it, myself.  But really, back to the skull.  There are two!!  I know!  Two complete weasel-ish skulls and bodies, plus another tiny mouse-like skeleton.  It's like CSI Lake Margaret.  This week, Aquarius, will be CSI Your Life!  Yikes, I hope that doesn't sound too ominous.  I just mean there are mysteries to solve, so have at it.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I was on a tour of some mitigation sites the other day --we walked around this giant field of grass, to which some fish restoration people had added about two logs to create fish habitat.  One of the elected officials, who I won't name, but you can guess, said, "So.  About those logs.  My husband is a fisherman, and comes out here all winter, and he tears his hip waders on those logs.  You surely aren't going to do more of that, are you?  We need to show more concern for the fishermen and their waders."  That picture is kind of boring, but you can probably gather that it would be fairly easy to avoid logs, since there are only about 3 in 200 acres. It was one of those moments of irony, like, "could we be a little more about the fisherman, and less about the fish?"  Pisces, be ironic in an interesting way this week, not a ridiculous way.