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.

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21):  I started my decluttering by getting rid of every last Christmas thing I owned, and I can't believe what a burden has been lifted, Gemini.  All of these supposedly festive orbs and baubles, wrapped in tissue paper for some tree that's never going to happen, all the tangled strands of lights, and the fuzzy little lamb ornaments, all deposited at the Value Village donation area.  Woo hoo!  Rejoice! For my clutter will be reborn as someone else's holiday splendor.  Gemini, be your own holiday splendor.  Saint Patrick's Day is coming up!

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. 

Libra (9/23 – 10/22): Speaking of random things, why is it so hard to recycle batteries?  Every single household has batteries this, batteries that, all manner of things powered by the batteries.  And they cost a bunch of money, and last about 15 minutes, maybe 20 if you're on dim, which isn't a metaphor, and then they build up and build up until our houses are full of them because we have no idea where to take them, but we know it's wrong to throw them out. The closest place to my house is like, 38 minutes away, and I know the 38 because of the internet, and I also know that it's through traffic, and ACROSS THE RIVER, where I try not to go, because I like this side better like some weird troll.  Why doesn't the garbage company have a special battery day every so often?  Why isn't there a drop box at the post office near the obituary handbill spot?  (And not to stray from the topic, but it's weird -- lost dog posters can go anywhere EXCEPT for the spot on the post office door where only the obituaries go. And obituaries can ONLY go in that one spot.  Is that a rule?)  I hear in Germany that there are battery recycling buckets on every lamp post. That's what we need here.  Without the lamps, because it's too bright out already.  Although Orion has been spectacular this week.  Libra, you should be spectacular this week too!  Give it a try.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): There was such lovely weather yesterday that I was able to inspect my bees; all 5 hives made it through the winter and still have honey and are in good spirits.  They're excited about getting out again just like the rest of us.  Even though it's so depressing right now because you want to do stuff but jeez, it's blowing and raining and dark and cold -- in a way, Scorp, this is the best time of year, when all the hopes you have for the spring and summer haven't yet been dashed.  You're still going to have a fabulous garden and get in shape and swim every day and climb a bunch of mountains.  It's all going to come together this year, for sure.  Make it so.  Or at least enjoy this hopeful point in the year.
  

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): Yesterday I told this story and when I was finished, someone said, yikes, I would have been too embarrassed to tell that story about myself.  The men in the room seemed to look at each other knowingly, like, yeah, she's an idiot, but I just don't have it in me to care anymore. The story was about being in my 20's and living on a sandbar in Puget Sound where I spent my days making a sundial and weird amusement park out of shells and other objects that washed up, and nearly losing our only boat through my own stupidity, and then taking a really stupid risk that involved swimming a mile in 45 degree water to get it back.  Sag, swimming will be upon us soon enough.  Wait for it...

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.

Horoscopes. Fake ones.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): I've been trying to drill down into the chores that I avoid to figure out why.  Laundry:  I don't mind dumping the dirty clothes into the gigantic washing machine that PSE gave me, or adding the soap.  I don't mind setting the dials and I especially don't mind while the machine is running when I am free from the terrible burden of it all.  The happy little jingle that it plays when the cycle is over is fine with me.  Moving the clothes into the dryer is no big deal, and cleaning the lint screen is actually fun! Carrying the dry laundry to a chair or couch isn't so terrible, and I find matching the socks strangely rewarding in a boring way, like mahjong.  The parts I do mind:  1.  Turning the shirts right side out; and 2.  Putting the clothes back into the drawer.  Now that I've narrowed it down, I feel completely ridiculous.  Really, turning the shirts inside out?  That's the kind of person I am?  Pisces, I know this is a super long rambling thing about socks, but that's only because I love you fishy people so well.  The point is, my dear ones, that chores aren't really so terrible.  I was about to hire someone to help turn the shirts inside out the shirts, when I discovered that I can take the shirts off in a whole different way, eliminating the problem altogether! I hope this doesn't create wide-spread unemployment of the right-side-out work force.  Pisces, think outside of the box!  Or out of the shirt.  Enjoy this week, free from burdens.

Aries (3/21 - 4/19):  The other day, while walking my dog, I came upon a man and his dog, both unleashed.  While the dogs sniffed each other's butts, the man said, "Happy New Year!  I was just spreading my wife's ashes over here.  We have the ashes of two other dogs under this tree, so I thought I'd keep it going." I thought it was sad and kind of sweet at the time, but Aries, I wonder what he's trying to keep going?  Spreading wives? No! Stop spreading the wives.  And another thing?  Does it seem, in retrospect, like he was behaving suspiciously?  Aries, let's snoop around that tree this week and see what we can figure out. Bring your DNA testing kit.
  
Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  Did you know that it's not "dead reckoning", but rather, "ded reckoning"? Short for deductive reckoning?  And then, as a double entendre joke, changed to dead reckoning, because it isn't such a great navigational method and people end up dead.  Don't end up dead, Taurus!  Well, actually, we will end up dead, but try to stick around for a while.  We need you!

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21):  Ai Weiwei says, "Optimism is whether you are still exhilarated by life, whether you are curious, whether you still believe there is possibility."  It all stems from curiosity, Gemini.  Right now, write a list of 6 questions you have.  Every day do that until you have a giant list of things to get you up each day, even in the deep dark winter.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  I went to an intuitive eye-reader the other day, because I'm skeptical and curious.  She said I was tidy (!!), inflexible, structured, and have ADD.  When I said, "hmm, that doesn't sound quite right," she looked me hard in the eye for a long time and I felt guilty, like I was hiding my rigid tidy self.  Even though she had only looked into my eyes for a few minutes and I've had a lifetime of being unstructured and messy, I figured she was probably right so I came home and said to my house, "take that, messy house -- you are NOT my soul type."  At which point my house laughed in my face.  While the other people showed pictures of their lovers or crushes, I showed her a picture of my dog.  Turns out my dog is also a Server, Scholar, Artisan, just like me!  I always thought my dog was kind of scholarly.  The eye reader also told me to drink more coffee.  Woo hoo!  Life is good.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  I once told a friend that I was reading about narcissism.  "No, please don't," he responded.  "Talk to me.  Tell me about me.  Tell me what you think I want.  Read the books I've read, remember my stories, tell me how I am.  Am I happy?  Am I?" he would ask.  "Of course you're happy," I would always say, and he would look relieved.  Leo, feign happiness until it's real.  

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): I have many hobbies, and I feel guilty when I don't tend to one or another, like a woman with too many children -- I don't have special time with each.  Which is stupid, I know.  No one but me feels sad for the bugs that won't be drawn because I'm too busy with the parade and trying to grow a hat from mycelium and what ever happened to the podcast?  But I think about the hobbies as if they're children, neglected children, and I become a bit paralyzed thinking about a poor beetle or wasp that never comes to life.  Virgo, am I making any sense at all?  Can we have a drawing night soon?

Libra (9/23 – 10/22): I think my favorite podcast right now is Oh No Ross & Carrie.  They don't just report on fringe science and claims of the paranormal, but they take part so you don't have to!  They're so funny and kind and they travel to places like Arkansas to attend a Flat Earth conference.  Libra, see if you can research some claims this week.  Let me know how it goes.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): I don't know if I've revealed this or not, but I'm in Aromatherapy.  I've been in regular therapy before, and I'd like to clarify that aromatherapy is way easier.  No tears, no difficult introspection, and cheap!  Not to mention that it smells good.  I've been wearing an aromatherapy necklace, as a message to the world that I'm trying.  Scorpio, is aromatherapy cheating?  Is it a spiritual bypass?
  

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): Have you heard about the Humanity Star?  A giant disco ball launched into space that orbits the earth, supposedly reminding us to look up and appreciate the fragility of the planet.  It seems bizarre to me, like if the gorgeous moon and the vast array of stars aren't enough, why would some fake star change anything?  What do you think, Sag?

Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): It's taken some time to get used to the idea you can just drive to a store and buy marijuana.  I hardly do this because it rarely interests me, but, every single time i've been to a pot store, this particular scenario occurs:  there's a young stoner at the counter who asks the middle-aged person what they're looking for.  The person describes an elaborate thing:  I'd like something where I can take one or two hits, laugh really hard for about half an hour, and then focus nicely for an hour or two, and then sleep really well."  It's always that -- the laughing, the focus, the sleep.  And the young clerk always delivers.  "Oh, yeah, we've got that.  It's an indica sativea blend, laughing Buddha with a high CBD content blah blah blah..."  And the customer looks so relieved, and buys whatever is suggested.  The two things that strike me:  everyone wants the same things.  Laugh more, focus longer, sleep better.  And, the same people some of whom probably don't believe in western medicine, easily believe a cute young stoner.  My wish for you, Cap, is more laughter, better focus, solid sleep.

Aquarius (1/20-2/18):  Speaking of pot stores, it cracks me up that so many carwashes now have pot stores attached to them.  Like, they were selling weed already, but now there's a nice little store where it happens legally. But that is merely a distraction from the real issue.  When are we going to get to the bottom of the Russia investigation?  Jeez, hurry up already, Meuller!

A little rant about the planet, The Leaf, and polyamory.  I just fixed a bunch of random clicky noises.

Polyamory, Bit Coin, and the Nissan

trying something new...

Horoscopes: The Thoughts and Prayers edition

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): Sometimes when I don't know what to write about, I think back and try to visualize what the pie chart of my thoughts for the last 24 hours would look like.  Many days, it involves bacon, which is kind of weird and possibly a little bit creepy.  But I also think a lot about how the world seems to be going to hell in a bucket and what can I, as one tiny little human, do about it.  Then I get all tired out and think about bacon again --actual and metaphorical.  But let's try the usual things, Pisces: be kind, show up, create. Remember that everyone is struggling in The Big Dark, and there's no harm in holding hands or holding up a light. 

Aries (3/21 - 4/19):  Last week I got coffee somewhere and the barista asked my name.  I told her, and she was all, "OMG, I love that name!"  Which sounds fake, because it's sort of a dumb name, and I figured she said that to everyone.  If part of your job is to ask people their name all day, it's nice to gamify it in some way, and there aren't too many options, so I was okay with it.  Saying you love someone's name isn't a terrible way to alleviate boredom.  But she kept going:  "When I was little, I'd always pretend my name was Betsy, and now that I have a child, when we play pretend, I always get to be Betsy."  It seemed way over the top because the name is primarily used for cars and cows and sewing machines.  But she sounded so sincere. Aries, be as sincere as possible this week, and gamify the mundane.  (Which reminds me of my range anxiety, but that's a whole 'nother matter.)
  
Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  It feels like we're living in that brain teaser, I don't remember exactly how it goes but there are two villages, one full of liars and one full of truth tellers, and you are allowed to ask one question to figure out which village you're in.  If I had to guess, the liars are in the village that runs the internet, the health care system, the power grid, public lands, and women's uterii.  (Is that the plural form?).  Taurus, be part of the truth-telling village, 

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21):  I don't know why they call the people "repairmen" anymore.  I'm thinking they should be called "replacemen" because this is how it goes, every single time:  You wait at home during some assigned time period.  At the very last second of that time period, some 18 year old guy shows up and says, "Oh wow, this is an older model -- what is this, from 2014?  Yeah, it doesn't make any sense to repair it at this point.  We'll have to get you a new (insert giant expensive appliance here).  No worries, we'll get that to you in two weeks!"  From now on, I'm going to gather up all my appliances every three years, throw them directly into the ocean, and buy all new ones. Oh Gemini, I'm so sorry.  That's not a horoscope at all.  In fact, that's a terrible cynical little thought.  My wish for you in this big dark time is that you are the master of your appliances and you laugh out loud at your good fortune every time something works.  May it be so.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  Every time someone complains about something easily solvable, without proposing any action, let's just say, "Sending thoughts and prayers!"  Example, "Oh, brr, I'm so cold!"  "Sending you thoughts and prayers!" Or, "I see your shoe is untied.  Thoughts and prayers!" Try it.  It doesn't help one little bit.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  There's a local "buy nothing" FB page that has a super sweet feature, "Make a Wish Wednesday", which is one of the highlights of my week.  I should probably be  embarrassed to confess that, but frankly, it's a bit of a relief to say it outloud.  Here's how Make a Wish Wednesday goes:  all the townspeople list their wants, and sometimes, people offer things up.  People ask for string and gravy boats and toys and 2 x 4's.  Recently someone asked for a dollop of glue to fix some eyeglasses.  I've been thinking about that for quite a while now.  It breaks my heart.  I picture someone sitting on the couch, squinting, waving a very tiny little sign, "I NEED GLUE!"  Leo, make your own little sign this week, and wave it boldly.  Make your needs known in a direct and kind way.  The world loves you.  Love it back.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): I guess I was thinking about that glue person so much that I dreamed that I met him.  I was on an airplane, and the guy next to me pulled out some broken eyeglasses, and I told him about the glue, and he was like, "That was ME!"  And I was sort of blown away by how able-bodied he was, and yet, his strategy for glue was posting on an obscure FB page.  It was only a dream, Virgo.  This week, nestle into the covers and dream dream dream.  And, as Pete Nelson says, if you can't fly with the birds, at least you can nest with them.  Find a treehouse!

"Sorry, there's no room on the couch.  I've had a big day."

Libra (9/23 – 10/22): I started the podcast because I'm afraid that all I talk about is my dog.  And who wants to be around that?  But jeez, dogs are so excellent.  And this particular dog is so interesting, and she likes all the stuff I enjoy, like walks and bugs and naps and eating.  And the dogs, they never give up.  They are hope at the ready.  They can be laying around on the couch, and then, the instant you make a motion toward the door or the food bowl, BOOM.  High alert, something good is going to happen.  Libra, be hope at the ready yourself this week.  Things could turn around in an instant.  Love the humans and the four-leggeds with all you've got.

"Sure.  Go to work and leave me here."

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): The attention span in Alabama seems to be 10 days. There is a solid movement of people who believe that the earth is flat. You could spend the rest of your life watching long, unedited youtube videos filled with "evidence" of the flat earth.  The flat earthers call the rest of us "globers".  Providing further evidence that we see what we want to see, believe what we want to believe.  So, Scorpio, take that and make something good with it. Also, I want to talk to some flat earthers, if you know any.  I'd like to figure out where it went wrong in their lives.  See how one gets to a place where facts don't matter, and people decide to believe something that was proven wrong centuries ago.  Scorpio, see if you can hook me up.
  

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): I listened to a podcast about someone who cured his own misery, and it both cracked me up and struck me as a good idea.  He got up each day and tried to focus on how much the world was screwing him over, how he was the victim in every single interaction and situation in his life. He had the opposite of a gratitude journal:  he would write everything down and elaborate on why it was so bad.  He would document that nothing was his fault.  Everyone else was to blame and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.  After a few weeks, he tried the reverse:  imagining each person he encountered was a graceful, loving, flawed human, doing their best, with no intention to harm him or anyone else, and he had the capacity to influence his life.  After this experiment, he decided the second way was just way better.  He's never looked back.  Try it!

Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): One thing that interests me about the whole #MeToo thing is that every single woman I know has been sexually harassed, coerced into sex, or raped; every woman I know lives with some degree of fear that every situation she's in has the potential to lead to violence, unwanted touching, or sex.  A growing pile of men have been accused and many have lost their jobs, but of course, this is merely the tip of the iceberg.  These are only the people who are famous enough, who's accusers are brave enough, who's details are verifiable, and who are famous enough to bother hunting down.  Millions of men are living in fear right now, afraid that their victims will come forward, afraid that their wives and lovers will learn about their transgressions, afraid that their professional reputations will be damaged, afraid that they'll lose their jobs.  I guess that's why we don't hear about men apologizing before they're accused, which makes all of the apologies seem a little hollow.  As if maybe they're only sorry they got called out.  Anyway, Cap, apologize before it's demanded.  It makes the world better.

Aquarius (1/20-2/18):  I went to the Grocery Outlet yesterday, which I usually avoid because it seems horrible and represents what I don't like about the world.  But I was in the neighborhood and I needed batteries and ended up with batteries, a bottle of wine, and a bag of dogfood.  "Birthday?," asked the clerk?  I looked at the items assembled and thought it does look like a pretty good party.  "No, just a regular day."  She repeated herself and I realized that she needed to type in a birthdate to sell me the wine.  I liked it way better when she saw my items and thought, wow, that's a helluva party ahead.  Aquarius, party like you have a bottle of wine, 5 pounds of grain free dog, and two AA batteries.  I dare you.

Emergency?

In which we learn the many uses for maxi pads, and that Reyna isn't planning to share her food bucket during the apocalypse

trying something new...

I was reading a book about chickens...

I'm trying something new, podcasting.  My yoga teacher, Sara, said it's okay if I try out a new hobby, so it's not like I didn't get permission.  There's a lot to learn which is super fun, but bear with me on the audio quality and mistakes.  Thanks for listening!

Episode 1...