StarIQ.com's Cosmic Correspondent Kim Rogers-Gallagher has been invited to the planets' secret hangout. She's the first astrologer to enter this starry domain, and she reports regularly on her findings there.

Cosmic Café 33:
A Six-Week "Wonderful Learning Experience” Courtesy of Saturn

A few hours later, I was sitting behind my desk in my office at home, my brand-new cast propped up awkwardly on a footstool. My ankle throbbed, my head ached and I was angry.

I couldn't help it. After all, I hadn't actually done anything wrong—at least, as far as I was concerned. Saturn, however, apparently disagreed. I immediately thought of all the plans I'd made for the next few weeks that would now have to be canceled. That made me even angrier.

But when Saturn says "sit," you sit. That much I've learned from astrology. Saturn is the astrological equivalent of an anchor, and when he's in the neighborhood (visiting one of your own planets, that is), it's not uncommon to feel as if you've got an anchor tied around your neck—or your ankle, as the case may be. He's also the planet who rules the bones in the human body, so it wasn't surprising that he'd chosen this form of "punishment," or "discipline," to get me to settle down.

Of course, Saturn is just as famous for erecting roadblocks as he is for his fondness of good, hard work. That thought crossed my mind as I struggled to get into a position that would allow me to work at the keyboard. As per difficult Saturn transits, that wasn't going to be easy. Nothing would be.

I made all the appropriate phone calls, reluctantly canceled a trip to England, Scotland and Ireland, and allowed my ordinarily cheerful little Sag Sun to pout for a minute. But only a minute. Then I rallied my own Saturn, who sat squarely at the top of my chart (on the Midheaven, a career point), shifted around a little and got to work.

Oddly enough, I realized I really did have a lot to do here at home. There were articles to finish, lectures to outline and calls to return. By the time I'd been at it for a few hours, I also realized I was feeling proud of myself for working through the pain and the discomfort. But then, that's the end result of a Saturn transit—even a tough one. You learn to live with whatever he's tossed at you, you get back to business and you end up stronger. I had to smile a little. Yes, this is why the "new-agers" in Astrology-Land call Saturn transits "wonderful learning experiences." They really are. But nobody said you had to like the lesson.

As the day rolled on, I began to wonder why I hadn't heard from my Uncle Jupiter, but then, he and Neptune were probably still in Amsterdam, smiling into each other's eyes in the city they virtually owned. Ah, well—that was okay. I really didn't know if I could handle his exuberance at a time like this.

Just as I was hopping into the kitchen to make some dinner, my galactic cell-phone rang. I hopped into the bedroom, grabbed it on the fourth or fifth ring, and poked "talk."

It was the Moon calling from the Café.

"Oh, sweetheart, we've just heard the news," she said, in a tender, sympathetic tone that could only mean she was wearing her Pisces outfit at the moment. I smiled, despite the pain, and thanked her for calling. Of course, the Moon is the cosmic nurturer, the Great Mother—and in Pisces, she's ultra-sympathetic, ultra-tender-hearted and ultra-compassionate. She actually sounded as if she were crying, which also fit quite well with her mood when she was in Pisces. This, after all, is the sign that feels everything that everyone else feels—for better or worse. So she was obviously sensing my pain and frustration. "I'm sending Mercury over to pick you up," she said. "We've got a lovely dinner ready for you here, and some leftovers for your kitty, too."

I was about to object, to say I really couldn't picture myself getting in and out of a car at the moment, then thought better of it. I would let the Moon spoil me. I had earned it. I accepted, and asked when Mercury would be here.

"He's there," she said, "waiting outside your door. Now, don't forget your crutches, and make sure you bundle up. It's chilly out there tonight."

I smiled, and felt just a little bit better. Nothing like a good dose of nurturing Moon energy to make everything just a little bit better. "Okay, Mama Moon," I said. "I'm coming."

I hung up and went to the door. Sure enough, Mercury was standing there. Once again it occurred to me that he looked an awful lot like Barry Manilow. Now, what sign was he in? I decided not to check my ephemeris, but rather to guess, instead.

It didn't take me long to figure it out. The rose in his hands, the color-coordinated suit he was wearing, and the first words out of his mouth gave it away. "Hey, girlfriend, I'm sorry about what happened. You know I didn't have anything to do with it, even though Saturn made me call you, right? You know I'd never hurt you."

He looked absolutely pitiful—and he was ready to accommodate. Libra. He was wearing charming, partner-oriented Libra. It made sense that he would be coming to get me, and I was willing to bet he wouldn't leave my side for a second, either. Libra just loves tending to The Other.

"It's okay," I said. "It wasn't you, and I probably had it coming."

"No way," he said, helping me down the stairs. "Saturn's just in an ugly mood right now." That, too, was very Libran of him—to take my side. He bundled me into the passenger seat of a lovely silver-gray luxury sedan, and closed my door. Johnny Mathis crooned an old love song from the stereo—more Libra symbolism—as he started up the car. "Do you need anything?"

I shook my head, then said, "A new ankle?" and we both laughed. Ah, well. I settled back into the soft leather seat and tried to relax. I was eager to see everyone at the Café. "Who's joining us for dinner?" I asked.

He grinned. "Venus, Mars and the Moon, of course. And we may even have a surprise guest."

"Please tell me it's not Pluto or Saturn," I said.

"Not to worry, pretty lady. This is one surprise you just might like."

Next Week: Dinner at the Café.