Horoscopes and Peaches
|The great wheel|
Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): Oh, back to curiosity. Apparently there are two kinds: state, and trait. State is when something piques your interest, and you're in a state of curiousity momentarily. Trait is when you just wake up curious every day. You know who you are, Taurus. Trait is the secret to a long life, they say. I hope that's true!
Gemini (5/21 - 6/21): A few weeks ago, I went to the Farmer's Market to buy 3 peaches, because yes, T.S., I do dare. I just wanted enough to put on cereal for a few days. The peach sales lady, if that's an actual job title, said she didn't want to sell the peaches because although the flavor was good, the texture wasn't. She said she'd sell me a whole box for $10. That seemed like a terrific deal, so I bought two boxes. The boxes were filled with gigantic peaches, each one the size of a small planet, which seemed so exciting at first, Gemini. If I could do animations, I could have made a fuzzy solar system in my house, and then made something happen, like a total eclipse of the peach. Oh, Total Eclipse of the Peach. If I could only animate. Be animated this week, Gemini.
Cancer (6/22 – 7/21): As soon as I brought those peaches home, though, I realized my mistake. It was much like adopting 40 puppies or six infants, because they needed constant attention. Constant. I decided to make fruit leather, because texture doesn't matter. The point of fruit leather is that the texture is, well, like leather. But you have to cook it forever, and turn it over again and again, day in, day out, during the day and into the night. And the whole thing is so sticky. Midway through the project, I remembered that I don't even like fruit leather, but I couldn't remember why. Is it because it bugged me that it's always individually packaged in plastic? Or that it sticks in your teeth? Or, and I think this is it: it's not really food. It's never more than a snack. "What's for dinner?" is never answered with "fruit leather." So, that happened, Cancer. While you were out.
Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): I am very excited about this app, which makes decisions. You type in the two options (for example, "Do I dare to eat a peach?" or "Should I take a nap?") The app sends a photon to Geneva (I KNOW!). After an exciting little thing happens on your phone, it reveals which universe you're in. Check it out. I spend most of my time in Universe A, where, unfortunately, I'm not taking a nap.
|Can you see the black cat? Yes, strange doings.|
I stopped in the middle of the woods to enjoy the sunset, and a
black cat showed up. I don't think that's a good sign.
Libra (9/23 – 10/22): I heard an ad for a video doorbell he other day, and it seemed like, well, how to put this. But someone should have told that person that no one needs a video doorbell. The deal is that you can see who's at your door from wherever you are in the world. Alas, no one knocks at the door anymore. Well, the Jehovah's Witness' come once a year on November 13 (They are nothing if not predictable.) I think the world is going to end before they get to it this year, sadly. But every other person besides the JW has texted, e-mailed, called, been invited. Knocking on the door has gone completely out of style, just like skinny jeans. Phew. Libra, you should feel free to knock on my door, though. You would be welcomed.
Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): This guy came into the coffee shop last week and was just the happiest man, beaming and saying hello to everyone. It turns out he's a collector of lava lamps. Correlation or causation? Sag, connect to your inner lava lamp. And, connect to this book if you have a moment. It's rather excellent.
Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): This, from a reliable source: a local logger was hired to bring 20 six-foot long cedar logs to the 17th floor of the Amazon building this week so that the dogs have somewhere to pee. It seems like we're in a strange part history where that could all come together: there are still trees and loggers, and they're within driving distance of a dog population that needs a fake forest in a skyscraper because their people are too busy doing whatever it is you do at Amazon to go outside for a walk. 1500 dogs are registered to go to work at Amazon. This may be occurring in the crack between Universe A and B. It makes me sad that dogs have to work in cubicles and pee inside too. It's bad enough for the humans, but at least they get paid. I'm glad I have a job that involves peeing in the actual woods, but I digress. Cap, be thankful for all your gifts this week: intelligence, creativity, friends and family. Choose joy.
Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): Every single thing we say to our children leads them to understand that they're good enough, or they aren't. Keep that in mind, Aquarius, and let things go as much as possible. Embrace the messiness of a deeply flawed world.