|My holiday decoration that I|
found in a moldy bag of potatoes
Aries (3/21 - 4/19): The winter, dark times are upon us. Bleh. I find that I'm mostly waiting for Starlee Kine to release another podcast, but I've been waiting since July. Aries, do you think she'll ever be back to solve another mystery?
Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): I've been watching this for a while, which both appeals to my [deeply buried] sense of order, and also makes me unbearably sad, because jeez, no one should spend their childhood folding shirts. Even if there's a nice piece of cardboard involved. Also, all the cool kids are rolling their clothes up like sushi. And I even did it in my own home. I rolled my clothes like sushi (except for a few things that were folded more like cranes and that one thing that lent itself to a dragon, but that's not the point.) The point is actual sushi. Right? This week?
Gemini (5/21 - 6/21): Yeah, I know. The world is going to hell in a bucket, and it seems as though, unbelievable as it is, thoughts and prayers aren't enough. Now we know It's dark and pouring buckets every day, literal buckets, and people and guns, don't even get me started. But still. All the good stuff is still happening, like pomegranites and homemade socks and that man helping a really old man onto the senior center bus, and that salad that has the bread in it, and all the majestic naked maple trees and arduino. It takes effort, but don't lose track of it, Gemini.
Cancer (6/22 – 7/21): The thing about going places for a short trip is that the anticipation is often the best part. Then there's the actual travelling, which involves planes or traffic, and then you're somewhere else trying to figure out what to do, and you end up walking around looking for food a lot, and then you might end up eating in places you wouldn't eat if you lived there, because you'd know better. So, Cancer, enjoy your time at home. Go nowhere.
Leo (7/23 – 8/22): People always use the phrase, "since the beginning of time" but I've recently become paralyzed by that. Time has a beginning, 15 billion years ago, which is impossible to consider, but then again, hard to stop thinking about. Leo, I know this isn't a good horoscope, but do you have any advice for me? Paralyzed.
Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): To address that pesky problem of travel, I'm thinking of starting a fake travel agency. Here's how it works: You write to me here and tell me you want to go on a little trip. I'll reply with a few clarifying questions, and then, poof, before you know it, I'll post your trip right here on this very blog. All for free!!
Libra (9/23 – 10/22): And, while we're at it, why not offer fake relationships? You write tell me you'd like a fake relationship, I reply with questions, and poof, partner of your dreams materializes right here on the blog. Think of it: that partner who accepts -- even embraces-- every single one of your quirky bits, has no annoying habits, no worries about pregnancy or std's, they prefer the other side of the bed, and so on. The brilliant ST offered the business name, "Fore Play" because, well, I guess I don't have to explain.
Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): I was cooking (ish) with the Cake Boss the other day and ended up with an extra clove of peeled garlic, which I slipped into my pocket, beknownst to her. (Is beknownst a word?) Anyway, Scorp, since I've been carrying it, nothing bad has happened to me. Correlation or causation? Give it a whirl!
Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): I think, even with the mini-hardships and annoyances, that we've won the lottery as far as our lives go. If we were to roll the dice and swap with another human on the planet, odds are overwhelming that we'd be in a worse spot. So, enjoy it, Sag. Peak oil, the internet, all your friends and loved ones, and the ease that comes 100,000 years into human evolution.
Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): I'm in a coffee shop listening to a man explain how god works, and here's what I've learned: God gets to decide if we should all have the same amount of money or not. And God decides who gets a gun. If we're good all our lives, we get saved. If we're good half our lives, we might get saved, it's not for sure. I'm too chicken to go over there and ask questions, because it's the cool kids table. (I know. How does that work?)
Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): I'm thinking of offering a writing class in January -- maybe 4 or 6 weekly sessions. The kind of class where you get to write without being judged, get to be in a room with the right vibe and a bit of structure and a lot of encouragement, and mostly, celebrating the gift of being alive among the living. Write to me if you're interested. (Does it seem like these horoscopes are just a fairly obvious plea to get mail? I know.)
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