The wind announcing Uranus' arrival stormed through the café, knocking over chairs and tables. A tablecloth whipped across the floor. Neptune's hair and gown swept around her in lovely disarray, reminding me of a Marilyn Monroe movie I'd seen once. Coasters and swizzle sticks and cocktail napkins flew around us, and I couldn't help but giggle—okay, maybe because I was a bit nervous. This wasn't a Marilyn Monroe movie—it was the Wizard of Oz. Venus hid behind Jupiter, her tiny, well-manicured hands wrapped around his substantial waist. The Big Guy grinned and shook his head. "Jeez. I thought I was big on grand entrances. Check this out."

The lights flickered twice, then went out. A second later, they came on again, much brighter than they'd been to start with—and they were buzzing. Mercury skated back and forth across the dance-floor, basically pacing on his in-line skates. Another burst of wind blew the slender fellow in our direction, and as he whizzed by, he called out, "Talk about wired, huh? This guy really gets me goin'."

Suddenly, everything stopped—except that electric buzzing sound. Even Mercury stood still as Uranus came through the door. His eyes were the wildest shade of blue I'd ever seen, encircled by thick, bushy, Andy Rooney-ish eyebrows—and there were icicles hanging from the corners of those brows. His hair—at least, I think it was hair—was nearly down to his waist. It was platinum—no, silver. Or white. Whatever it was, there was no doubt that it, too, was pretty darned wild. It continued to whip around his face—even though the wind had stopped. I thought of Merlin, King Arthur's wizard, and realized that only Uranus could have been the inspiration behind that ancient character. This wizard, however, wasn't done up in a gown with stars and moons on it. He wore a long, white robe, and as he approached us, I heard it crackle and crunch. It reminded me of a sheet that had been hung out on a clothesline for too long in February.

For the first time that evening, I realized I was frightened—this was no laughing Uncle Jupiter, after all—but I was also excited. I'm the proud owner of both the Moon and the Ascendant in Aquarius, Uranus' favorite sign, so I've always enjoyed his unpredictability. It sure beats a lecture from Saturn, in my humble opinion. And when Uranus appeared in the Cosmic Cafe, the only thing I was sure of was that there was no telling what this guy would do next.

I was right. He walked straight up to me, stood directly in front of me, and stared into my eyes.

"Let's go."

I reached for Jupiter's arm and held on tight. "What? Go where? Are we going somewhere?"

Jupiter squeezed my hand, and winked reassuringly. "Go ahead, honey. It might be fun."

I wasn't sure about the fun part, but I stood up anyway. Never let it be said that a Sag with the Moon and the Ascendant in Aquarius ever said no to a brand new experience—no matter how frightening. "Okay. Let's go." Uranus turned—abruptly, of course—and seemed to glide toward the door. I glanced back at Jupiter, who winked again, and said, "We'll wait here for you. Go on, now."

I followed Uranus out onto the sidewalk—but there wasn't any sidewalk. The night sky had turned into a rainbow of colors—kind of like a cosmic version of northern lights. My car was gone—in fact, the whole block was gone. Uranus touched my arm, and a shiver went up my spine. He was so cold. He pointed down at our feet, and I saw that we were standing on a rug—a bright purple rug, that shimmered and moved like waves on water.

Suddenly the carpet lifted up, and we were airbourne. I searched for something to hold on to, found nothing, then decided to go with it. I wasn't frightened anymore—I was downright terrified. And excited. This, apparently, was a Uranus transit—and I knew enough about this planet to be sure that resistance was, well…futile. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for just a second, and resolved to enjoy the ride.