Aries (3/21 - 4/19): Every morning I do a little self-test for dementia. Lately, during the testing period, I've noticed that my coffee seems unacceptably cold. Am I making it
Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): I think resilience is more important than happiness. Being able, when life does it's thing, to zoom up to 5,000 feet or even 30,000 feet, obtain a grand view, and then come back down to take care of business, knowing how little everything really is. Taurus, see if you can practice your skills this week. One way to practice is with binoculars. Find the bird with your eyes, then lift the binocs, etc. Oh wait. That's instructions for a different thing. Oops. But just practice being flexible. When something comes up, drop it. Relax, eat fruit.
Cancer (6/22 – 7/21): Another person at the workshop, during her introduction, said that she and her children are nomadic, they follow the sun. I asked where she grew up, the way you do when you're trying to seek common ground ("You have a kidney, I have a kidney! So much in common, you and I!") and she got all, "It seems like you're really trying to pin me down. I don't really live anywhere, and never have." Cancer, try to live somewhere and own it, and tend it as if, well, as if you were saving it for your great-grandchildren, as they say. Sense of place is one of the three most important things, according to me.
Leo (7/23 – 8/22): It seems like I have nothing to write about these days, which shouldn't be true. Two people that I routinely chatted with, or at least said hello to, were arrested in or near the library in the last couple of weeks, one for indecent exposure. I took a class to learn how to make pants out of bacteria. I have a bunch of whack-a-doodle clients. A dog wearing a green jacket nearly walked into the yoga studio the other night. So it seems plausible that I could pull together a dozen horoscopes. But blah blah blah. Sometimes it's all blah blah blah, Leo. This is one of those times. Sorry.
Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): Speaking of which, I got my spirit animal reading done recently, and I have not just one, but seven spirit animals. Most are large mammals, duh, just like me, which was strangely disappointing. If my spirit animal is my regular animal, it seems like I'm missing something. But my inner spirit animal is the hummingbird. I don't know what an inner spirit animal does, exactly, but maybe it brings out the ADD. Excuse me, I have to google rhubarb to see what the nutritional value is. Oh, did you know that the toxin in the leaves is simply oxalic acid? I wonder if rhubarb leaves could be used to treat mites in my bee hives. Etc. I just heard that hummingbirds are actually visitors from beyond, dead people visiting us. I don't know what to make of it all, Virgo. Is my spirit animal dead? Is that why I can't write anymore?
Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): There's a mom and two baby cougars living in the woods behind my house where I walk my dog every day. My plan is to not get between mom and the babes, and also to not die a weird, ripped to shreds by a giant predator death. Although that wouldn't be the worst thing. The worst thing, Scorpio, would be death by boredom. Don't be bored this week. Be curious.
Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): I've been listening to a podcast about Bikram Choudry, the founder of Bikram Yoga. It's the same old story -- some guy takes advantage of women who trusted and adored him, raped them, and left them feeling ashamed and wondering what the fuck just happened, and what kind of world is it when someone you loved and trusted and admired did that. I'm so very tired of that story, which I can completely relate to. Capricorn, see what you can do in your own life to change the way things go down in the world.
Aquarius (1/20-2/18): One thing I'm super tired of is being hired for my expertise with wetlands and the permit process and then having people ignore what I say. I might be wrong but I have a feeling that if I were 6 feet tall with a beard and a deep voice, people might actually believe me! I used to (like, yesterday and the day before) try to convince people that I know what I'm talking about. Now, I just think about what bug to draw next. Every time a client doesn't listen, from this point forward, I will pull out a piece of cardboard and draw another insect.
Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): Besides all the icky stuff, Scott Pruitt is one weird dude. Like, who wants a chick-fil-a franchise anyway? Would you jeopardize your job to get one? "Honey, if you really love me, you'd get me a Chick Fil-a franchise, because that way, I could spend my days serving fried chicken to random people. Right? Pisces, don't get involved in any franchises. Ask me first. I'm sorry about this lame crop of horoscopes. I guess that's the way it goes sometimes.
PS. I can't believe we're bickering with Canada. That breaks my heart.