Review Horoscopes, Part 1 of 3

Partial Horoscopes: The Review Edition

I have a new favorite podcast, The Anthropocene Reviewed.  It's beautiful writing and brilliant ideas and exactly what I want.  So I thought I'd try reviewing a few things myself.  And I've split the horoscopes into three parts, due to the increasingly short attention spans on the planet.  Stay tuned Leo and so on...

Aries (3/21 - 4/19):  Toothpaste.  Toothpaste is pretty variable.  My current favorite is Uncle Harry's, because it comes in a little jar, no pesky tube and is a little salty, but it's not available everywhere so I suffer.  The first mass produced toothpaste arrived in a jar 1873, but tubes came out a few years later, and have stuck. The problem with tubes:  1.  if you squeeze out too much, there's no going back, and 2.  if you leave the cap off, which I often do because jeez, who's got time?  I have the internet to surf, people to stalk, solitaire to play!  I can't be bothered with putting the cap back on every single time.  Anyway, if you leave the cap off, a rubber film of solidified toothpaste forms across the mouth of the tube, making future squeezing difficult.  You have to use a toothpick to create a hole, but it's never quite the same, and the crumbs of weird gummy toothpaste goo falls in and around the sink.  The whole resolution takes way longer than putting the cap on would have, but apparently, I will never learn.  And a weird confession:  I really love a brand new tube of toothpaste, mostly due to the ease of the squeeze.  Occasionally, when I'm feeling really wild, I'll crack open a new tube even though there's plenty of paste in the old tube.   I'll give toothpaste 2.5 stars.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  Cottonwood leaves.  They're huge, almost show-offy big, and in the fall, yellow or brown, never red.  For some reason, we long for red in our autumn leaves.  Yellow is mildly interesting, but not miraculous.  Red means a good sunset at the end of a beautiful summer day, and we want that color to wrap up our seasons too.  The leaves smell sweet, like the inside of a beehive, and if you look at them for a while, you can be reminded of a banana peel, due to those brown splotches that supposedly mean the banana is at it's peak nutrition, because it has something called Tumor Necrosis Factor in it, and if there's one thing the humans hate more than slipping on a banana peel it's cancer, which robs our loved ones too soon.  The more dark brown spots on the banana, the harder it's working to fight abnormal cells in your body.  Truthfully, bananas at that stage really just remind me of being carsick, sitting in the back seat of an unairconditioned staion wagon, driving across the flat part of the country while my sister threw up.  I'll give cottonwood leaves a solid 3 stars.  Bananas will be reviewed at another time.

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21):  Twins.  You knew that was coming, didn't you, Gemini?  Hasn't everyone longed to be a twin at some point?  Having that person who knew you before you were born, who's heartbeat synchronized with yours, and with whom you share a secret language and all the DNA your parents had to offer.  And the capers you could pull off!  No, I'm the other one!  

And yet, our culture values uniqueness so much that we love pigeons and snowflakes.  Well, snowflakes anyway.  Maybe we don't value uniqueness, come to think about it.  Look at the suburbs.  Look at the clothes we wear.  Without having been a twin (as far as I know, although my mother suspects that I was a twin who stole the resources in utero and killed my sister.  Jeez.), or even being close friends with a twin, I'm giving twins 4.5 stars.   

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  Bedspreads.  Ok, this thing happened, I think in the late 1990's or so when bedspreads went away and everyone switched to comforters that have their own giant pillowcase type thing that you're supposed to wash regularly.  Although the fluffy puffy comfort is very luxurious and it's easy to fall asleep under a cloud of heavy fluff, which is perfect sleeping conditions, wrestling those things back into their cover is a giant pain in the ass.  Cleaning the cover is something I used to do very occasionally, and I'd do it like a sport.  Every so often, I go curling or wash the comforter cover.  (Truth:  I've never been curling.  But I'd like to go.) . But now that I have this beautiful big hairy dog who sleeps wherever she likes, and where she likes is wherever the humans have been sitting or sleeping, well, I dunno.  I am faced with the choice of further surrendering to the life of a crazy single person, with my track veering farther and farther from the rest of the humans, and now add, "AND, she smells like dog!"  Or I wrestle the unwieldy fluffy thing into the giant pillow case regularly.  Bedspreads, though they're easy, lack the weight, the loft, the sheer comfort of the aptly named comforter.  So I'll give the bedspread 2 stars.

Watching the world go by

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All aboard!

Home sweet home

I’m on the train.  I’m a little giddy with it all.  This seems to be my natural habitat.  A small confined space, lots of gorgeous views, and no hurry.  Everyone seems so happy, bordering on smug that they chose the train.

Glacier

I came laden with activities and plans.  I’m going to write a lot, and draw for at least an hour a day with the 16 colored pencils that I carefully chose -- mostly the normal colors, with one special gold pencil.  And I'll research things that I don’t usually have time for.  A few land stalker things, like what’s the history of that particular property, and what year was it logged, and so on.  And weird things that I’ve been curious about, but haven’t taken the time to read up on, like the Wim Hof method.  (Right?  I mean, tell me reading up on that guy hasn’t been on your to do list for a while.). And making a tiny booklet with graphics showing the mandatory technical criteria for hydric soils.  Oh, and knitting a whole sweater, and maybe even the back up project I brought, because you don’t want to be stuck without knitting.  And I’m going to get off the train at every chance, with the anxious smokers, to look around.  And get my 10,000 steps and 10 glasses of water and maybe quit coffee and read a few books and write a few letters.

Browning

But it turns out that I could look out the window all day.  I don’t want to knit, or draw, or miss a single inch of this beautiful land.  Maybe that’s because so far I’ve been in the west.  I’m just leaving Glacier National Park, with snow on the ground, brilliant yellow larch trees against a backdrop of forest green conifers, and wild rivers.  Soon, the land will flatten out, trees will become scarce.  But even the stark, treeless landscape is captivating.  I’ve realized this is what I crave – being alone with my curiosity, activities, and a beautiful backdrop rolling by.

Horoscopes a la Pliny the Elder

I’m reading excerpts from Pliny the Elder’s encyclopedia.  That guy!  He wrote a 37 volume encyclopedia of everything, from his head. His actual head.  Chapters on all aspects of the universe, natural world, magic, medicine, and mining.  An enormous, opinionated compendium of all that he knew.  He lived from 23 – 79, back when the years only had two digits.  He wrote this all without going to the internet or even the library.  It’s lovely and awkward and inappropriately decisive.  About trees:

 “The treasures within the earth were long hidden, and trees and forests thought of as her ultimate gift to mankind.  From trees first came food, and their leaves made mens caves more comfortable; their bark provided man with clothes.  Even in our day and age, some primitive races live in this manner.”

Or this, about portraiture:

“Portraiture, the medium by which exact likenesses of people were handed down through the ages, is completely out of fashion.  Bronze shields are set up as monuments; they bear a design in silver with a faint outline of human figures.  Meanwhile, people cram the walls of their galleries with old pictures and revere the likenesses of strangers. As for likenesses of themselves, their concern for honor only extends as far as the price, so they are quite content for their heir to break up the statue and drag it out of doors by a noose.”

I’m not sure what’s going on there, but I guess lots of people were dragging statues around by nooses, somehow adding value?  The whole project is amazing and inspiring, primarily due to the breadth of his knowledge, but also because he lacked the discipline or desire to separate fact from fiction.  And he was a super disciplined guy, in his own way – he proclaimed that walking was a waste of his time, so people carried him around town in a chair so that he could continue reading.  Which sounds really weird but actually, add a combustion engine and an audio book, and most of us do that every day.  We sit in our chair and get carried around town, being read to.  Although I'd love to try this with an actual chair.  

The structure that he applies to the world is also interesting.  For example, “Mining and Minerals” includes volumes on painting, architecture, and sculpture.

So, Pliny, I take your throw down.  You wrote 37 volumes; I will try to write 12 paragraphs about things I know about, without running to the internet every three seconds.  Hence, the following horoscopes.  And, my dear reader, (or maybe there are two now?), don’t worry, this will not be the last you see of Pliny.  

Horoscopes: The World As I Understand It

Aries (3/21 - 4/19):  King County Zoning Code:  If you want to build anything in King County, you will need to know that per KCC 21A.24.045D 7, you may add up to 1,000 square feet of additional footprint to an existing legal residence, even if it's in a wetland buffer!  I could go on and on reciting the code because this is my only super power.  But I will spare you, because I've learned that many humans aren't particularly interested.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  Pets:  If you're thinking about getting a pet, a dog is the way to go because they are forgiving and enthusiastic.  When you ask a dog if they'd like dinner, they leap up from the napping that they do most of the time, jump up and down for a minute, wagging their tail, and follow you.  When you ask if they need a minute to decide what they'd like, they just wag wag wag, indicating that whatever you offer will be just fine.  They're ecstatic with kibbles dished out of a metal garbage can and into a bowl on the floor.   The humans, on the other hand, sometimes send food back to the kitchen, saying they don't like it, or it's inadequate, or why isn't steak on the menu, or you're not very good at carrying the food from the kitchen to the table.  I beg to differ, but that's a whole 'nother topic, Taurus.  

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21):  More About Pets:  If you don't have time for a dog, and you're sort of boring, you might want a fish.  A fish is a good pet if you don't have the emotional bandwith to love one more being.  This works out because fish aren't very cuddly compared to the dogs.  Fish are really exciting to see in a stream, which happens at this time of year, but not so interesting when they sleep in your bed.  (I don't know for sure if that's even a thing but I promised you that I would not look on the internet.)  Fish need water, so I guess if you have a waterbed you could sleep with your fish.  Gemini, if you don't have the bandwidth to love something, that's the worst thing that can happen.  If it happens to you, try with something easy, like a chocolate eclair.  They are easy to love, especially compared to a pet fish.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  Trees.  There are only five trees that you need to know:  Douglas fir, big-leaf maple, western hemlock, red alder, and Western red cedar (my personal favorite).  These can be divided into two groups: Christmas trees, and regular trees.  If you can't learn the five trees, you should at least learn the groups.  And if you live somewhere hot, you have a third group, the palm trees.  

Leo (7/23 – 8/22): Cleaning.  A lot of the humans worry about being clean, and having a clean environment, and keeping everything tidy.  This is misinformation.  Its best to keep everything out where you can see it or get back to it if you have a free minute.  Like, if you're in the middle of creating a fake portable miniature fire pit, and you're making paper mache logs for it with tiny wire armatures, and then you're also going to draw a bug, and maybe there's some laundry happening, all of that should be out where you can see it.  This builds trust between you and your stuff, and trust is the key to everything.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): Yoga:  If you want to be a lot healthier and happier than you already are, do the yoga.  The dogs do it automatically upon waking.  The humans wear special clothes and drive to a little room and set up their own little personal mat like a Montessori preschool, and do it all together.  It's cozy and sweet, and involves breathing, pushups disguised as other things, handstands, and sometimes, my personal favorite, which I call "one minute one minute one minute."  

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):   Walking:  We're all supposed to walk 10,000 steps a day, which is pretty easy if you picked a dog for a pet.  If you picked a fish, it will be harder but you can do it, though you'll have to leave the fish at home in the waterbed.  It's especially easy if you're a server.  Server is the term that replaced waiter and waitress, in case you've been MIA for a while.  A server goes on hikes every day, but instead of being in the woods and seeing things like waterfalls and mountaintops, they walk around and around the same little room, carrying things, and enjoying the view of leftover pizza crusts and empty glasses.  If you picked a fish as a pet, this job will help you understand their predicament.  On Sunday, I walked 8.5 miles inside a small room.  Anyway, Libra, the Fitbit is a craze that started about 5 years , when everyone attached a monitor to their wrist so they knew how many steps they walked.  I just joined up yesterday, late to the party as usual, but so far it's pretty fun and I'd recommend it.  It used to be that I was so busy counting all day that I couldn't even stop to say hello to anyone. Now, whatever!  Hello hellow!  That's what I will say to you while the counting happens automatically.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): The World As We Know It:  It appears to be end times for lots of reasons.  The planet is crowded with people and plastic, the whales are dying, the droughts are bad, the storms are worse, a red cow was born in Jerusalem.  Oh, and Trump.  The pussy-grabber has control of the Situation Room and that can't possibly end well.  But cheer up Scorp!  We've had a good run as a species, and it's time to turn it all over to the rats and termites and Himalayan blackberry.  Did you know, btw, that a female termite can live for a decade or more?  Rejoice!

  

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): Entertainment.  Most people do these things for entertainment:  they draw bugs, walk in the woods, watch The Detectorists (which is the most popular tv show), make flutes from plume poppies, and organize parades of vegetables.  Oh, and sometimes, they try to create little lanterns out of stuff.  And grow vegan leather pants from the skin of kombucha.  I think someone also went to the movies once but I don't know much about that.

Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19):  Magic:  Magic has gotten kind of a bad rap since Pliny's day, but there's still a lot of mystery and wonder out there.  I would explain but that's the whole point of magic -- it's unexplainable!  Just enjoy it.

Aquarius (1/20-2/18):  Me Too:  This is a movement where women have become more outspoken about the fact that they'd prefer not to be touched, groped, penetrated, etc. without permission.  Some percentage of men don't get this, so it's an actual discussion, rather than just a "duh".  

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): Money:  People seem pretty interested in money.  Getting it, showing it off with the things they wear and do, and spending a lot of time trying to get it.  One time, some people tried to rob the Starbucks in Monroe in order to get money, but because they came so early in the morning (you gotta get up early if you want money!) there wasn't much in the till.  So they tied up the employees and ran the drive-through lane for an hour or so to get more money.  It seems like it wouldn't be very hard to actually get HIRED at Starbucks, especially if you're willing to run the drive-through.  But you probably shouldn't mention your prior barista experience if it involves tying people up.  The point is, people go to great lengths to get the money so that they can take vacations and get away from the jobs they have to do to get the money.  And they need lots of money to retire from the jobs they hate, so the go hard at the job while holding their noses and longing for it to be over.  I don't really have any money but I do like to work, which is related but different.

The World, The Whales, the Blood Red Sun Horoscopes

Aries (3/21 - 4/19):  That poor Orca mama, carrying her dead baby for all those days.  Aries, the saddest thing ever is raw grief, the feeling that we usually work hard to dilute and gloss over in all the ways we can.  We have the capacity to love with all our being and then the inevitable losing.   And there's that whale, carrying that baby day after day, reminding each one of us of the state of our own hearts.  Let the tears flow, Aries.  Its gonna be okay.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  There is a new-ish low-powered FM radio station in the area, and it has about 12 listeners because did I say low-power?  The reception is spotty which adds to the charm.  They have messages from the senior center, and notices about bridge closures, and lots of good music.  On Sunday morning, a local Buddhist has a show about mindfulness, and two men in the maximum security prison 10 miles away like to listen.  But because of the poor reception, they have to contort themselves and hold on to each other to form a human antennae so that they can hear Buddhist radio.  Talk about hope for mankind! There it is, Taurus.  Two guys, in jail, collaborating to become an antenna so that they can listen to live buddhist radio.  Keep that, Taurus.

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21):  I've been enjoying my newest side-hustle, hostessing at the Grange, which allows my rainman skills to fully blossom.  Shortest distance to table.  I know the way.  I will walk you there.  Follow me. You will never find the table without me.  When I return to my little station, I will tally you in one of three columns:  people I know, people I don't know, and people who seem to know me but I have no idea who they are.  Repeat.  Gemini, come see me!  

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  My hollyhock is blooming and I feel like the world should stop whatever they're doing and just go look at it.  It's the prettiest color and oh my gosh, that can occur in the midst of the terror in the world.  The hollyhock seed was underground, and then gathered itself up and forged out into this crazy situation, probably not at all aware of what it was getting into.  And now, I'm sure it's aware of the strange smoky sky and the sunsets that almost match it's brilliant red petals, and the strange vibe of humans waiting for more shoes to drop.  (The hollyhock is like, "wait, what's a shoe?  What's a foot?")

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  I don't understand the news anymore.  Not in a big, "oh, there's nuance in this story that I haven't been paying close enough attention to" sort of way, like things in the middle east for the past 30 years, but in a very basic, "huh?" way.  I get up every day and plan to just focus in on what's real and true right here like the giant mess in my house and my work, and the pretty yellow dog.  But like that car wreck in the next lane, I can't help myself from just taking a quick peek.  And each day I'm more mystified.  Today I learned that the Manhattan Madame, the hedge fund manager who did a career change to run a prostitution ring for the rich and famous, testified in the Manafort trial.  Roger Stone, the prince of sleaze, says she "helped him build some websites."  Because if you needed a website built, duh, of course, you want to hire someone who traffics in sex.  So much to be confused about here, like, first off, why do these rich famous men need to hire prostitutes?  Isn't that the point of being rich and famous?  And who has a successful career in an ordinary banking field, like hedge funds, (whatever they are - yawn -- I feel as confused as the hollyhock does about the shoes), and wakes up one day and says, "I know!  I think I'll sell sex with young women to gross old men!"  Who does that? And why are the same 12 people in all of the icky scandals, like some strange version of a Dickens novel?  Leo, I think that's good news.  It means that the majority of people aren't creeps; they're lovely humans like yourself and there are only a dozen or so bad players that have momentarily gained control.  

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): Cleaning:  Here's how it goes.  I decide to focus on one small area, the way they advise.  I pick a drawer that has seven things in it and a million crumbs.  This should be easy! But one of the seven things is a box of toothpicks, which is actually 100 things, and reminds me that I've always wanted to build a structure out of toothpicks, and cover it with very thin handmade paper made from nettles, and put a candle under it.  An hour later, the tiny drawer is sprawled out all over, and the glue and glue gun and tissue paper have all contributed to the mess, and there's a childlike weird little sculpture that might get an honorable mention in a kindergarten sculpture contest.  I throw the whole thing out and look at item #2, a bag of plastic straws.  Which, for some reason have a worse rap than all of the other plastic.  The straws are left from when one of my offspring had wisdom teeth extracted, and now I have 30 that I don't know what to do with.  Is it worse to a) sell them on the black market; b) toss them directly into the ocean; or c) put them back into the drawer?  I can't decide so I leave them on the counter.  Oh, time for cleaning is up!  We'll try again tomorrow.  Virgo, this is a horoscope SOS. 

Libra (9/23 – 10/22): Last night I spilled a little bit of beer on a flat table and guess what?  It didn't run off onto the ground.  It stayed directly on the table.  I guess the earth is flat after all.  Libra, run your own experiment this week.  

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): I went onto the Dark Web for the first time this week, for research purposes.  It's like Amazon for illegal stuff.  You can buy anything there, like a hit man, LSD blotters on images of Marilyn Monroe, or automatic rifles, and more, and everything has been reviewed and given stars.  Because you can trust the last guy who hired a hit man to give a good review.    You need a cryptocurrency to make a purchase, but you can buy bitcoin with a Visa card and convert it to any other currency that leaves (almost) no trace.  It blows my mind that we've taken the seedy part of each town and moved it to the ether where people with no hook-ups can get hooked up without even putting on shoes.  Or pants!  

  

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): As someone who collects side-hustles to almost a freaky level, I've added an Etsy site to the mix.  This is the complete opposite of the dark web, where happy little people make charming little things and sell them to each other.  Why all the side hustles?  Because a fine contractor looked at my house and said it's kind of a tear down.  That's not gonna happen, Sag.  This house will fall down around me and the pretty yellow dog.  So I'm my own side-hustle kick-starter machine.  Sagittarius, this week, be your charming self.  Come hang out with me too.

Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): Acting on a tip, I've started watching The Detectorists, which is hilariously understated about some guys who go around with metal detectors looking for Saxon coins.  Which brings me to a confession:  I have always wanted a metal detector.  But it seems kind of trashy and weird, like, "hi, can I come into your house with my apparatus and root around in your couch cushions?"  I guess people don't do that.  But it's basically the same thing.  "I'm going to wander around in the grass after the concert and find things you lost and keep them, okay?"  But it's not about keeping the stuff, it's the magic of surprise, the finding of things that you don't expect.  This week, someone found a key and turned it in to me, and even being the middle-woman was kind of awesome. I also found a little painted rock that said I was enough.  As if the rock knows.  Cap, don't get your intel from the rocks.  Use your brilliant mind.  

Aquarius (1/20-2/18):  It's so hard to write these days because everything seems so trivial in the face of what's going on in the world.  It's all so sad and maddening and paralyzing and I can't even believe that every day is worse than we feared.  And I don't want to be the person who is drawing bugs while Rome burned but jeez, that's what I do.  I draw bugs.  I can't help it.  Aquarius, do what you can each day to be bright and shiny and light the path for your fellow creatures.  Be gentle and kind and thoughtful and try to keep your feet on the ground and your head high.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): Life is sucky sometimes.  But sometimes, the worst thing that could ever happen turns out to be the best thing that ever happened, which explains why memoir is a thing.  We're with you.  Chin up.

Finding Hope in a Crazy World

With all of the rapid changes, its hard to decide where to put our energy that will be effective, transformative, sustainable, and nourishing.  Is there such a thing?  Betsy muses on this question and her strategy.

Take me to the audio

Horoscopy

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

Ceratina sp.

wrong? Drinking it slowly?  Is this a sign, Aries?  Am I wearing the coffee pot on my head and using cold water or something?  Is this the first sign?  Did I already ask that?  Aries, your week will be full of unexpected temperatures.  It's not your fault!  Try to let go and fall gracefully into dementia.  Watch me!

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.  

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21):  I went to a little workshop the other day and during introductions, the person who arrived 40 minutes late gave what I would call a memoir instead of an introduction, beginning with her birth, and detailing everything right up to the moment we were in.  Which, as you know, never arrived because of how time works.  At first I was like, GRRR, my teeth hurt from gnashing them, and my eyes hurt from trying not to make eye contact with anyone.  But after 20 minutes or so, I realized, wow, I'm actually involved in a miniature miracle.  Usually, I have so many questions that I'm afraid to ask (like what was that guy drinking from a mason jar at the Grill the other day?), and here it was, all laid right out for me.  Gemini, notice the miniature miracles every day.  Use your birthday time for good.

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?

Libra (9/23 – 10/22): So last week, while I was sitting in the library working, two cops came and handcuffed the man at the next table.  It was mildly disturbing because he works at the next table most days: him drinking mountain dew and eating raw broccoli from a plastic sack, and me mostly eating nothing, especially since the mean librarian spoke to me sternly about eating Mexican food that one time.  I've since learned that my seemingly peaceful coworker has a long history of jail time and assault charges and I even found his 38-page hand-written manifesto on the internet, not unlike the Unabomber.  Things aren't always what they seem, Libra.

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.

  

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): I purchased bees a few weeks ago from someone who turned out to be a christian evangelical musician / Elvis impersonator / man with wife(s?) wearing long drab dresses.  At first it seemed kind of weird, to drive up to this farm that made me feel like I'd time-traveled, where both the clothesline and the women and children wore long gray and brown dowdy dresses.  But then it seemed just like a beehive!  Where lots of women do lots of work and a few males sing and impersonate elvis.  Wait.  I made that up.  Anyway, the bees seem pretty healthy.  Sag, be healthy and sing like it's going out of style this week.

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.

Advice Column

Advice column. Episode One from the past...

trying something new...