Post Rapture Horoscopes

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I spent a lovely bit of time with a Pisces at a food court slash bookstore last night, but there was a weird vibe, like maybe the rapture had just happened, and we were stumbling around with the others who didn't get sucked up.  

There was a little family with three beautiful kids, but we could tell that the mother sort of hated the dad, not because they didn't get raptured, but because she had to spell everything out in a way that made her jaw look really pronounced.  "Honey, the shelving unit has just fallen on our 4 year old, the baby is toddling off at a rapid clip towards un-raptured strangers carrying hot beverages, and our daughter is standing in line for ice cream. Perhaps you could put your phone away for a minute?"  

And there was a family-ish unit, just the parents and diaper bags sans kids, as if their young people had risen up to meet their lord.  And the parents were left looking at each other, like yep, I didn't really believe that stuff we told the kids either.  Anyway, Pisces. Rise up to meet each day this week with vigor and grace.  May it be so.

Aries (3/21 - 4/19):  So, Acroyoga was really fun and only a little bit scary, and I'd mostly recommend going upside down in whatever ways present themselves this week, Aries.  The brain loves getting all that blood!

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  One of my customers wrote this week to ask if I could flag a wetland for him, and I said, "Sure, but do you think you could cut a trail through that wall of blackberries for me?"
"Yep," he replied.  "I'll have my guys Lewis and Clark it for you."

"I like the use of Lewis and Clark as a verb," I responded.

"Wow, you're quick!  That's my thing, using names as verbs.  Feel free to Jesse James it." 

Taurus, I had no idea that it was an actual thing, this use of famous names as verbs.  But it turns out to be fun.  Marie Curie it for yourself!  (Wear eye protection, of course.)

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  After dinner, we wandered into the hardware store, because aah, how I love a hardware store.  I like to be near the people who know how to fix things, and see all those random tools and parts as potential solutions or even as components of entirely new things.  I like the smell and the vibe and everything else about it.  I like to go up and down each aisle and imagine what it would be like if I could make the things implied by the items on the shelves.

Maybe it was because we got there immediately after the rapture, but the smell was off -- more like weed killer than wood -- and they had things that don't belong in a hardware store, like children's toys, and pretty stone house address numbers, which seem like they could belong, but they don't.  I know this because each numeral was $30, and hardware store people don't spend that kind of money on a number.  Hardware store people carve one out of wood or they harness a nearby volcano and form the address out of molten lava that they tamed with just a few things they had in the garage.  

Also, the addresses out here contain so many digits that the children don't memorize home until they're about ready to leave, and no one, even that guy who bought the football team for TWO BILLION DOLLARS, not that I think that's obscene or anything - no one could afford a full address at that price.  Gemini, where are we going with this?  I'm really not sure.  Tough times for the Gemini, this much I know, but try to enjoy birthday season!

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  Speaking of fixing things, I know you're wondering about my oven / range situation.  You know you are.  Well, my friends, here's the status:
About 2.5 weeks ago I e-mailed an appliance repair place and I'm waiting diligently to hear back.  Any day now, I'm sure.  Cancer, while we're waiting patiently for things that aren't likely to happen, let me remind you that crab season is open!  

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  I almost bought one cool thing  that I found in the children's toys section of the hardware store, near the model airplanes.  They had tiny log cabin kits,  miniature versions of the Lincoln logs we grew up with, but with the proper parts to assemble a cabin.  I almost bought one or sixteen and then stopped myself because THAT WOULD BE RIDICULOUS, Leo.  To assemble mini log cabins on the kitchen floor while I wait for the appliance repair guy to e-mail is over the edge for sure, right?  Here are my questions for you, Leo:  why is it not crazy for grown men to do stuff with model trains?  Would it really be so wrong if I built a little frontier village?  If I made a saloon it would for sure have a swinging door, and very tiny little beer glasses.  Yes it would. 

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  I heard that Mercury is in retrograde AGAIN.  WTF, Mercury!  Face forward! I don't even really know what that means -- how can a planet be going backwards?  Where's the front of the room in outer space?  And why would one planet, symbolized by that winged sandal guy, have so much impact on things?  But ours is not to question why, Virgo.  Apparently thieves, poets, and merchants are profoundly affected by retrograde.  (I think those are the only three kinds of people, so pretty much, everyone is at stake here.)  Just make the best of it until July 7, when Mercury will resume forward motion and the thieves, poets and merchants can resume the joy.

Three of my pet bees enjoying
 my favorite flower

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  Also, about my hotplate woman situation?  I purchased, via a FB trading post site, a 20" portable table top gas grill, which has the capacity to cook 15 hamburgers at once.  I don't even think I know 15 people who eat hamburgers, so I guess we call that the blue sky, room for future growth, blah blah blah.  The grill is one of those "some assembly required" things, meaning that it came with 784 bolts and 362 washers and a bucketload of instructions.  I've been working on it like a little jigsaw puzzle that I do when I feel the urge to play solitaire.  I think I'm on Step 5 of 56.  So far I have attached the handles and name plate to the lid, and added other bits of miscellaneous hardware.  I'm guessing I'll be finished in a week or two if the wind doesn't blow the instructions away and I can keep track of all the tiny parts.  Libra, your horoscope?  Don't worry so much about the instructions, about getting every last bolt, metaphorically, in place.  Let your life roll on in endless song, as they say.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Speaking of songs, I was in the IGA a few weeks ago and heard that Pure Prairie League song, "Amie" which I hadn't heard in, oh, maybe 20 years.  I commented to the clerk - "wow, when's the last time you heard this song?"  "Uh, exactly 22 minutes ago."  Sometimes it feels like our lives are on a repetitive loop like 70's music in a small town grocery store.  But Scorpio, that's just not true.  Step out of the loop, do something different.  Learn a new song, start a new hobby.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  My son asked me how my hotplate situation is going.  "Upgraded," I replied.  "I bought an outdoor table-top grill!"

"Wait, what happened to the Big Easy? [which is what we called our old outdoor grill, not because we're weird, 'name the appliance' people, but because it came with a tag that said that.]

Sometimes it took a whole
TEAM of people to hold me up.
That's ok. 

"The Big Easy is at risk to become the big bang.  The gas line is rusted and flames shoot out where they don't belong, so use has been discontinued."

"Mom.  Really?  You think outdoor grill woman is a step up from hotplate woman?  Think about it."

I've thought about it, Sag, and I'm standing by my answer.  Outdoor grill woman has, well, for starters, the word "outdoor" in it.  It sounds picnic-y and fun.  Sure, maybe it does have a tinge of prepping for the apocalypse in it, I'll give you that.  But it successfully eliminates the "I'm on the couch heating up soup from a can" connotation. May your week be off the couch and into the adventures.  I, for one, will be grilling vegetables.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  I heard that bees near a candy factory in France eat the artificially colored sugar waste and produce blue and green honey.  Is that cool or sad? Let's go with cool. The other thing that struck me this week is that doctors are using 3D printers to make blood vessels.  We are only moments away from just being able to print everything.  Need a new car, oven, job, relationship?  Print it!

The Capricorns especially struggle with the retrograde thing.  Breathe.  Behave as if you're thriving and soon it will be so.  You are beloved by your people; be good to them.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  My bee posters arrived in the mail yesterday, three copies of the same poster.  One for me, one for my little gardener, and one to cut up and make into flash cards.  Let me know if you need flash cards, Aquarius.  Your week will be gone in a flash, just like our whole lives.  See if you can slow it down for a second.  (Should be easy, with the retrograde thing happening.)

Special Note:  There are still spots left in the Writing for Parents workshop on 6/22.  This isn't exactly a writing workshop or a parenting class, but some kind of hybrid that I am SUPER excited about, because it will involve writing, and thinking, and yoga nidra.  Oh, and snacks, of course.  For all you parents who are doing a damn good job, and just need a moment to rest and think about it.  You know who you are....Sign up here.