The random edition

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  People have been remarking lately on the fact that I only have an inside voice, and am not capable of shouting.  (Does it seem like some people only listen to shouting?  But that's a different rant, and so inappropriate for this cheery blog!)  I've decided to call it an Insider Voice, which I think makes it more compelling.  Doesn't everyone want to be an insider?  Aries, use your insider status for good, not evil.  You're about to have a remarkable week.  Don't squander it!

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  I've been doing lots of math for free at the Khan Academy, and I'd highly recommend it if you have a solitaire addiction.  (Ahem.  You know who you are.)  I personally have an irrational fear of global transient amnesia, and I'm trying to innoculate myself against it with math.  Suiting up as a mathlete.  See all the dark blue squares, Taurus?  That's mastery!  I know, it's mostly in concepts like one digit addition, but I will work my way along until many of those squares are all dark blue, and I'd suggest you join up!  How about we have a party when we get a certain number of points?  Anyway, this week, work your way along the tiny and not so tiny challenges that life presents.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  Speaking of music, how about Grace and Tony?  I'm a new fan mostly because I like the word, "Punkgrass," but the music isn't so bad either.  But that's not your horoscope.  You, not unlike Diana Nyad, will go on an excellent swim, maybe 110 miles, or maybe just out to the stump with me.  Metaphoric, or actual.  (Does using a stump as a landmark make me look like I have skoal in my pocket?)

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  I had lunch with N. this week, and an hour or so before we left, I texted him:  "Bring at least 3 good topics."  We met, and I asked what he brought.
"Um, I was planning to complain about my job.  Does that count?  That's way more than three things!"  Cancer, have your topics at the ready, just in case.  (Here are two to get you started:  1.  The milwaukee protocol; 2.  Why does concrete have that certain smell when it rains in the summer?)

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  People, put away your seersucker suits already!!!  That time has passed.  I reminded someone about that yesterday, as in, "last call for the seersucker, dude!"  He said he was too 'other side of the tracks' to own such a suit.  Winter is the great leveler, Leo.  As soon as everyone puts away their white handbags, no one can tell who's who, which is the proper side of the tracks or anything.  You can even be flat on your back for the winter, if that's the best you can do.  (We call that "thinking" here.) But see if you can get up, stand up, stand up for your rights.  This week, and all winter long.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  This isn't a very good picture, but it was one of the most awesome lamps I've ever seen, with lots of little barbies dangling from the ceiling.  The thing about Barbie is that now there's Paleontologist Barbie!  (I guess that happened in 1997 but I think I've been out of the loop for a while.  (Do you understand now why I fear Global Transient Amnesia?)  Anyway, Virgo, pick a barbie, any barbie, and go for it this week.  Be disproportionately skinny, and keep your hair combed at all times!  Just kidding!  But while we're on the topic, my Barbie research revealed yet another Barbie I didn't know about, Oreo Fun Barbie!  According to Wikipedia, Oreo Fun Barbie was marketed as someone with whom little girls could play after class and share "America's favorite cookie."  Why, that is fun!  This week, find some people to share cookies with.  Sure, I'm free, in case you were wondering.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  I went to the grocery store a few minutes ago, and the clerk, who probably knows more about me than anyone (1 pack of ESB a week, weird penchant for the Kombucha, single-ply toilet paper, etc.) asked what I was up to today.  I felt panicky, like, uh oh.  Do I have to say?  Does that happen to anyone else?  Because if I were to tell the truth, which I try to in all matters, even when it completely doesn't serve me (most of the time), I'd have to say, "What I'm up to?  I'm going to make a big list of stuff and not do most of it.  The list, you ask? Here:  

1. Draw more pollinators.   
2. See if that plant that I saw this morning turns out to be Triglochin.  It's probably not due to partial global transient amnesia.  
3. Clean something in my house, even one tiny thing. 
4. Consider ordering the DNA testing kit.  Spend a bunch of time reading about the options, but don't order anything.
5. Try to do something nice for someone, even if it's just leaving a carrot out for Jeffrey the rabbit.  (I hope this post doesn't make me seem like Jimmy Stewart.)

What I'll actually do is about 6,000 more math problems (I know.  I can't help it.), and go on a long walk in the woods and maybe a swim, and then come back and stare at my list.  I'm afraid that if I tell the lady at the store the truth, she'll stop selling beer to me.  So here's the answer:  "Yardwork.  Gonna try to get things all wrapped up this week."  She looked happy, like I was just one more productive customer, coming through the line.  That's your answer this week, Libra, no matter what the question.  

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  I am lucky to have the most lovely daughter on the planet, the sort who will come to yoga with me once in a while.  It's like having a cross between a brilliant, scholarly, kind person and a bouncy pet tigger.  

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  Are we really going to war again?  Is there anything at all we can do to stop it?  Arrgh.  Nothing good will come of this.  But your week?  All good.  Make your tiny corner of the world bright and peaceful, Sag, as you always do.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  Speaking of gin, I went to a talk by this guy recently, and he got me fired up about doing something with Oregon grape berries.  But I'm not interested in making dull bitter fruit leather (I'd rather eat my old shoes).  But I found a recipe for infusing gin with OG berries.  By the time I got it together, though, the berries on my property were raisins already.  (I know what you're thinking -- what's to get together?  Just buy a bottle of gin and find a jar.)  

But I was at church, and noticed tons of ripe plump berries there.  Each time I mention church I feel compelled to say IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!  I don't believe in woo-woo shit, I know that sex is what creates babies, and every single baby is a holy one, and I believe that when we die we die, and some of us end up in a suitcase in a storage locker, which is fine with me.  I believe this is our only life, and it matters what we do with it, especially how we treat the other humans, and that's what's sacred -- the connections between people, the good will, the forgiveness and gentleness we give and receive.  I don't think there's any supreme being looking out for us, we need to do that for one another.  And it's good to be with other people struggling to to figure out what matters, how to be kind, and most of all, how to forgive ourselves and our people when we fail, which we do, over and over.  So that's what church is. 

I gathered the berries and put them in a jar, and poured gin over them (I bought some new brand of gin because it was wearing a hat!  A hat on the gin! Yes, you read that right!).  And even though I don't really believe any ground is holier than any other ground, I'm pretending that these berries grew on sacred ground, and it's going to make this gin, that was born wearing a hat, special.  And now magic is happening in that jar, and more magic will happen later when it's consumed.  I believe that, even if I don't have the believer gene.  Let your week be full of magic, Cap.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  We're all suiting up for the week ahead, trying to capture the last bits of sun to store in our sparkle suits for the long dark time ahead.  Music, Aquarius.  Gather music, make playlists.  Lot's of them.  Don't be afraid to put cheesy pop songs on them, like this.  Whatever works.  There's no shame.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I was swimming with a friend a few weeks ago, and remember that toe ring?  It fell off and now rests at the bottom of the lake.  She spent our swim reminding me that hers didn't fall off due to some malformation of the toe.  Kind of a clubfoot of the toe, if you will.  You wouldn't even know she's got this disability if you weren't swimming together with toe rings on.  I was getting cold, and she suggested that if I only had a toe ring to act as a very small scarf on one toe, I'd probably be fine. I laughed hard enough that I nearly drowned, but I didn't, and here's why, Pisces.  Because I know the back float.  Use it.  You'll need it this week.