Horoscopes, Tableside.

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  I spend a lot of time thinking about other ways to make money.  They aren't exactly "get-rich-quick" ideas -- they're more like, "get-poor-slowly-ish" plans.  Here's one:  a food truck that would hang around near the whineries, and deliver snacks to the tourists/tasters.  What appeals to me?  What could be more basic or important than delivering calories to the other humans?  

I was talking to two lovely people about this idea.  "Are you in?" 
"Yes!" said the LA.  "I'll design the menu and think up food.
"Yes!" said the entrepreneur.  "I can help with the whole marketing aspect."
Then there was this awkward moment where I was supposed to chime in with some important thing that I can contribute.  We still had our hands stacked on each others in the middle of the table.
"Um, I can do the horoscopes, I guess?"
Being the generous people that they are, they were all, "Perfect.  How could we possibly have a food truck without horoscopes?"  I know.  

Aries, just bring what you've got to the table.  Don't worry about whether it fits in or not.  Assume that someone wants what you have to offer, even though it doesn't look like it at times.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  Okay, so I've been thinking about this idea more, and especially how complicated food is.  Buying a fancy truck, getting licensed to serve food, and then buying the food, and all the chopping and dicing and stirring, and if you don't sell it in time, it goes bad.  Oh, and let's not forget about handwashing and latex gloves.  So how about this?  Just the horoscopes.  A truck, or even a small car, that would lurk near the wineries.  When people sitting around drinking fancy wine get bored (of course the do!), they'd text me, and I'd deliver horoscopes tableside!  (I think the term "tableside" adds an element of class, don't you?)  I'd probably need roller skates, or maybe heelies.  Oh, and an apron with a zipper to store the wads of cash.  Taurus, wear your apron this week.  Make good things happen.  Bonus points if you do it tableside.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): I heard someone talking on the radio, I wasn't really listening,  one of my many problems.  But it turned into something about the first recording of Alexander Graham Bell from 1885.  "How was this sound recorded," asked the interviewer.

"Well, it was embedded in a wax disc attached to cardboard."

Right?  How do people even imagine this stuff?  Be honest, Gemini:  does it seem possible that one can catch soundwaves with wax?  Kind of like sand candles without the sand and the candle?  Some guy is sitting around thinking, "hmm, how can I catch a sound wave?  I captured a bobcat footprint with wax, let me try that...." Gemini, see what else you can capture with wax this week.  An idea?  Motivation?  Hunger pangs?  Loneliness?  Let me know how it goes.  Play it back.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  speaking of Alexander Graham Bell, I was in the field the other day, a million miles from a cell tower, and one more OCD customer called about 53 times in five minutes, knowing full well that there's no cell coverage at his property.  From my end, I watched my coworker answer the phone each time and shout, "Hello?  Can you hear me?"  And then the connection would drop off, and then the whole thing would start over.  If I had some wax, I would have captured it. Cancer, see if you can get by this week just saying everything once.  And everyone else?  Listen to the Cancer people!  They have important things to say, but they're only saying it once.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  The other day someone made a comment about this blog on FB, something like, "Ultimately, another pointless blog."  I know.  I couldn't agree more.  I spend way too much time wondering about what the point of anything is, unfortunately.  That's a bad rabbithole to go down at this dark time, Leo.  Don't do it!  If you pull out the map of possible thoughts, this one has that, "here there be dragons" thing by it. I haven't done anything worthy in years, maybe decades, and I know it.  I have no illusions that making up horoscopes is important.  But I do have a tiny bit of pride in knowing the difference between meaningful and irrelevant.  This blog?  Irrelevant.  But hopefully provides a smattering of amusement.  Leo, this week, find way more than a smattering of amusement.  Drink it up.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  There's a genre of movies called "mumblecore" that I hadn't even heard of until pretty recently.  Now I've seen one, and a second one is all queued up but I keep forgetting about movies.  Like, you sit down, back away from the keyboard and just watch.  I'm not so good at that, it turns out.  I start watching, then just go back to doing math.  Virgo, just about 2 months before I learned about mumblecore, they declared it's over.  Oh, I hate that.  Like becoming a grateful dead fan in 1996.  See if you can stay ahead of the curve this week, Virgo.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):   I've claimed the title of "announcement host" in my household.  I know, it might seem kind of weird to even have an announcement host when I eat about 88 out of 90 meals a month alone.  But still, you can't be too prepared.  So I keep the sign, and I stand tall and announce the things that need to be announced, even if I'm both the announcer and the announcee.  Because announcements are serious, people.  Get serious this week, Libra.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  This year, I planted twenty tomato plants, which may seem ridiculous, but really, you can't have too many tomatoes.  I harvested three tomatoes.  I know.  But that's three more than I would have had if I hadn't tried, Scorpio.  Keep that in mind.  

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): I saw this game that someone mentioned, and hmm.  It seems like witty in a box.  I haven't played, but is it cheating?  From their website: 

The game is simple. Each round, one player asks a question from a Black Card, and everyone else answers with their funniest White Card.

They give you the conversation?  Do you see why I think people will stuff my apron with wads of cash?  I would deliver a little conversation, tableside!

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  As you know, I'm pretty interested in genetic testing.  My focus lately, though, has been trying to figure out how to get this guy at my booty call job to spit into a cup.  Because I'm pretty sure he's like, 18 percent Neanderthal!  And I mean that in the fondest way.  Because I am pretty attached to the Neanderthal.  Wide pelvis, language is limited to grunts and gestures. The ideas I have so far:  1)  give him a candy that's really bitter, and hold out a cup when he spits.  Would that get adequate volume, though?  Not sure.  2) Set up some sort of spitting contest, and surreptitiously whisk his cup of drool away for testing.  I know, that might seem kind of inappropriate for the workplace.  Let's just say, this isn't that kind of workplace.  It's kind of a free for all.  This week is a 7, Capricorn.  Enjoy.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  This looks pretty cool, doesn't it?  But that's not the topic.  The bullies in congress who won't let go of the idea that medical care is only for the rich or the employed.  GRRR.  Debtageddon.  I can hardly listen to the news anymore. A bunch of high-fiving white guys messing things up for everyone else.  I read this short story once where a guy went to sleep as a top-of-his-game man, and woke up as his own servant, and couldn't get out of it.  I wish I had that super power, to inflict swapping people in their sleep.  Aquarius, just try to get some sleep this week.  In fact, sleep through the week if you can.  Not much is going to happen.  In fact, I've been wondering lately why the Milwaukee Protocol isn't sold on the black market as a recreational thing.  You could get put to sleep for a while, and then be woken up when things are better.  I'd sign up fo' sho'.  

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I'm very much looking forward to my outing with a dear Pisces this week.  A little singing, a little eating and drinking.  Prepare!  I will too.  Maybe some word games or other festive things.  Tableside.