The dog, the bees, the planets
|Will I ever be able to stop drawing the bees?|
Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): I have a friend with a secret life in her hay loft where she artificially inseminates chickens and keeps pets that her family knows nothing about. She has a secret rabbit that I think should be named Harvey, but it has it's own name that isn't Harvey. (I'm not telling you what it is, because duh, it's a secret!) I'm reminded of a true story I read about a woman who housed both German soldiers and six Jews in a closet for a few years. Everyone lived. Taurus, there's no shame in practicing your hiding people skills. In fact, it might come in handy. Or, if you're feeling a little tired out, maybe just hide yourself for a bit.
Leo (7/23 – 8/22): I'm so sorry, Darwin. We have a secretary of education who doesn't believe in teaching evolution. Two hundred years later and some people still can't see the beauty in the fact that we're all connected, that we all came from star dust. Leo, be a star this week. Shine bright; times are dark and we need your light.
Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): I recently joined Twitter because it's part of the resistance. For a long time, I had one follower. You might think we could have arranged it so I would call her up when I have something to say, but this is more fun, like the can telephone that was strung between my house and a friend's when I was about seven years old. Then I got another follower, and had to text my first follower to see if we have poly-followry in our relationship. We do. Phew! Virgo, this week, first think spaciously, and then distill everything down to 140 character nuggets of brilliance. It's poetry month!
Libra (9/23 – 10/22): I spend a lot of time trying to communicate with my dog, because English isn't her first language. She looks at me and whimpers, and I say, "Use your words!" in a stern voice. And she looks down, which makes me feel bad. So I say, "Do we
|Relaxing on a shovel|
need to talk about our relationship?" And she wags her tail, and I take that to mean we're good. I probably talk to her too much -- I ask her about stuff she doesn't want to think about, like "what should we do about climate change today, eh, Jaz?" And she wags her tail. She has a regular name (Jasmine Jones) and a name for fancy (Jasmine Cavendish-Palmer). Sometimes I call her by her fancy name and then she does something decidedly not fancy, like drinking from the toilet, and I have to call her Jones. Libra, be fancy this week. Use your fancy name. Don't drink from the toilet.
Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): If I had to pick a conspiracy theory about my dog, I'd assume she's a super smart alien sent down in a dog's costume to study the ways of a random part recluse, part "let's have a parade" woman. She seems eager to access the forest behind my house for research purposes. Are you wondering why I think she's a spy? Here's one reason: sometimes, she leaves the room to jot down notes in her little notebook when she thinks I'm not looking. I can't read the notes, because, as I've mentioned, English is not her first language. She s particularly interested in pollinators. So interested, in fact, that last week she swallowed 4 honeybees and threw up. Scorpio, don't swallow pollinators, BE a pollinator! Share whatever you have with your people and all the other people too.
|This is why we're all so tired and just a little bit grouchy|
Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): Here's something interesting: the molecules in wine have no flavor; taste is created by your memories plus the emotions of your companions. So, if your wine tastes a bit sour, change up your drinking buddies!
Aquarius (1/20-2/18): I keep seeing people post about their loved ones, "I love you to the moon and back." Is that a lot? Are there people who's love extends to the moon, but not back? Which brings me to the actual point: there's something going on in Antarctica. We still don't know why John Kerry spent election day in Antarctica. Are pyramids being revealed as the ice melts? Is my dog actually from Planet B? Aquarius, let me know.