I lost my hot pants, along with several other items over the past month.Â I’m no airhead, really – I don’t lose things. So I took it as a sign. That maybe…maybe I should take full advantage of the divination spectrum that my craft, astrology, offers, by asking the stars for a little wassup? It’s been necessary. First, my cell phone charger -and then- my hot pants, both equally vital to my existence: mainly a girl needs to communicate, and a girl needs to dance. The good news is I recovered both. In fact, batting 3 for 3, horary astrology has saved my rump and my pocketbook every time – literally. [Read more…]
So I arrive home at 2 AM after working an astrology gig for San Francisco ball-goers. I’ve got a ton of stuff to carry in from the car. With arms full, I wobble on my vc (very cute) new Michael Kors high heels and basically stumble after a few steps (reflecting on the deranged look that Posh Spice always has on her face – it’s the shoes, people). A book falls out of my bag and when I bend down to pick it up, another falls. I pick them up noting the Moon is balsamic, there’s literally no light for my path down the steps. I call my husband for eyesight and man servitude.
The next morning I discover my wallet is missing. We look the house over several times. We look in the car. We look at the walkway, under the carport, in the laundry room etc. At my wits end, I send a shout out to my higher self: “where is my wallet?” and it answers clearly: ask the stars.