Sunday’s Seven
2. Born in 1965 or 1966?
I’ve been dealing with this group, astrologically, for a while now. I’ve found very little material that adequately deals with this group – astrologically. But Sunday, at the fair, listening to another reader carry on….
“Look, I feel like a snake molting, shedding its skin. Only, the part where it covers my eyes? I can’t see yet.”
Perfect way to put it.
Do these jeans make me look fat?
I said, “There is no right answer.”
A Leo girl corrected me, “there are several answers that are correct.”
“Where would you like me to take you for dinner?”
Or, “Would you like to go shopping?”
I suppose, it should be noted, in a humorous aside, Bubba once suggested, an answer to the question, “No honey, it’s not those jeans that make you look fat, it’s your fat that makes you look fat.”
He did go without a date for several years.
3. Lost a bet
It was just a friendly wager, but the bet was a for a dinner at Forti’s that __he__ would call by the time I got back to El Paso.
I got the strangest run around with the story, and if I’d really wanted to push the point, I’m sure I could’ve proven my point, as I figure it was a classic case of “he said she said,” but sometimes it’s just easier to admit failure. Or, concede a point, anyway.
So it cost me dinner at Forti’s, but I wasn’t too worried about it.
Gallina in Mole, muy good.
4. Saturday morning, in order to get around the heightened security measures, I put on a tux shirt, but left my studs, cufflinks, belt and tie in my bag. So Saturday morning, looking over the early morning mist rising up from the tarmac, I was standing there, getting dressed, balancing a computer and a cup of coffee, while trying to put those studs in my shirt. I never realized how hard it was to put those studs in without a mirror.
5. My Scorpio friend, another reader, was on the same flight as I, back to Dallas. We discussed many topics. I shared part of leftover granola bar with her.
“See? I bought dinner.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
6. Getting on the plane, we both headed to the jump seats, the over-wing exit row, and popped our feet up. I then bantered with the flight attendant, a Capricorn. That crew was on their last leg and quite ready to be out of the air.
7. Despite the valiant efforts of our Capricorn attendant, a Cancer did manage to sit down opposite us. She was carrying a copy of a book that piqued my interest, \\Idiot’s Guide to Zen\\, which then, launched us into a number of points of conversation.
“You two,” the Cancer finally asked, “you’re like a team or something?”
“Oh no,” I explained, “I live in South Austin, and she lives in North Austin. You think we should take this show on the road?”
To be honest, we have been working side-by-side, for what, ten years or more? But I’m not the famous one, that Scorpio is.