Crows and fish
Aries (3/21 - 4/19): I was sick for a few days -- I mean, really sick in a way that I had no doubt that being in bed was appropriate -- not the sick that happens sometimes when I want to lie in bed, but think maybe I'm just being lazy. Anyway, it's kind of a poor girl's vacation, and I rather enjoyed it. I listened to a million podcasts, and discovered a few things. Most importantly, Aries, was this: I used to listen to lots of current event podcasts, like Slate and the NYT. I've shifted to... (almost embarrassed to admit this. Almost.) true crime. Because the news is too disturbing and gets me agitated. I hate how much the phrase, "let that sink in" is being used for dramatic effect, so I won't use it, but it is sad that I have turned to murder podcasts for their relative calming value, when compared to current events. Can this be happening? Aries, be bigger than the news cycle, better than you thought you could be, stronger, kinder, and more resilient than anyone imagined for you. Do it. It's what we need from you, and you're ready! You were made for these times.
Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): While lying in bed looking at the cobwebs and disarray, I realized that I can see how people become hoarders. They don't start that way; it begins with a little busy spell, maybe a few too many hobbies, haven't yet found a spot for this or that, and suddenly, you're Miss Havisham goes QVC. As I lay in bed this week, I could see hoarding creeping up on me, a silent killer like high blood pressure. Cobwebs and dust and stuff that doesn't have a place to call "away", so it lives out, because I'm about to make something with it. I rose up from my sickness resolved to confront hoarding, and spent all day decluttering about 10 square feet of my house. I feel so proud and full of good cheer and feng shui juju that I'm a bit unbearable right now. I have previously pictured hoarders as Shopping Channel people, and I'm not any sort of channel person at all. But we are all at risk, Taurus. Beware.
Cancer (6/22 – 7/21): I recently had dinner with R. and asked him what the most interesting thing that had happened that day was. Without missing a beat, he told me a fascinating story of being in a bathroom stall at Goodwill when some guy came into the room and started accusing him over the stall of stealing the yeller's iPhone, saying that the police had been called, the phone was tracked, and so on. It was weird and random, and in the end, nothing really happened, but it was a great story with suspense and intrigue and a plot. Soon thereafter, I had occasion to use the restroom myself at the restaurant. When I emerged from the stall, a woman was doing full-on dental hygiene at the sink. She had a kit with toothbrush and paste and floss and maybe other stuff too. I tried to wash my hands and keep to myself, because that seems appropriate, right? But she looked right at me and said, "Hi! I just got braces!" "Congratulations," I replied. She looked to be in her 60's, and went on to describe how the braces are supposed to be invisible, but she wondered if I could see them. I didn't explain about my dim vision, but stared at her mouth for a minute and said, "Nope. Can't see a thing in the braces area." She looked pleased and continued with her flossing, and I was awkwardly mesmerized and watched for a while. Eventually I realized that maybe I was being creepy, so I left and rejoined R. "Guess what? I have my OWN bathroom story to tell," I revealed. And so it goes, Cancer. One story merging into the next, as we each try to make sense of our world and share it with our loved ones, trying to create meaning out of the random bits that link us to one another, one bathroom episode at a time.
Leo (7/23 – 8/22): Sometimes I have so many tabs open that I lose track of what I'm doing, and days later come back to an article I was supposed to read. I notice that there's always an article that proclaims, "Trump Whitehouse in disarray; lots of key people resigning or getting fired." And I get confused, like wait, how long have I been asleep? Do I have a beard now? Because they've been reporting this for months, maybe a year. Did anything happen with all of this yet, Leo?
Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): I've been doing lots of "off-the-mat" yoga lately, which is where the real challenge lives, and I'm grateful to my incredible yoga teacher every time I remember to breathe and be in the moment and try to imagine living with grace and kindness EVEN WHEN I FEEL SUPER TRIGGERED OR TERRIFIED. Like when I had to get a stupid crown on my tooth because I'm a grownup and handle stuff before it comes collapsing down on me, at least that one time. And they took this silver filling that was installed in the 80's and drilled it out with heavy equipment and drilled my tongue too because it's in the way, and there was blood and pain and I could feel the novacaine creeping down my throat, and it seemed like I wouldn't be able to swallow for much longer, but still, I thought of Sara and imagined breathing even if I couldn't actually do it. And when they charged me $1500 because I don't have insurance, I paid, as if it were no big deal, as if I were delighted to spend the money that way, like a day at the races or something. (That sounds like I'd have a bonnet. But no.) But I can conjure Sara's calm twinkly voice saying, right here, right now, we're all okay. And it's true, Virgo.
Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): I just finished reading My Lovely Wife in the Psych Ward, and I dunno, for such a catchy title, it didn't do much for me. The author seemed whiney and full of both purpose and self-pity, a terrible combo, and I never felt like he connected with his wife at all. Maybe because she's suffering from psychotic delusions, but i think there's more to it than that. He mostly seemed to resent her for the inconvenience of it all, which granted, is understandable. But still. I wanted it to be like The Eden Express which was so damn good, at least that's what I remember. I also remember the tiny snowflake storm by Richard Brautigan being delicious, and I re-read it last week while stuck in a little snowstorm, and yup, it was still good. (Click on the link already!)
Aquarius (1/20-2/18): This planet has become like that house with too many guests, and we need to meter things and tax things and basically use the tools at hand to stop overuse, and the humans are like, "You're not the boss of me. If I want to drink from a plastic straw and toss it into the ocean when I'm done, by god, I'm doing it." Aquarius, what to do?
Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): I remembered this thing that happened when I was about 7 years old, but as soon as I started telling it I thought wait, is this even real? Here's what it is: I remember going with my family to a city for a weekend, I think it was Chicago, and getting paper clothes when we got there. Did that really happen? I have this memory of my sisters and I in matching flowered paper shifts. Or maybe it was an episode of That Girl that I inadvertantly stole and incorporated into my own strange memory machine? Does that make me crazy? Or, does it make me That Girl? Pisces, I drew a fish for your birthday time. Enjoy.