Cosmic Correspondent Kim Rogers-Gallagher has been invited to the planets'
secret hangout. She's the first astrologer to enter this starry domain,
and reports regularly on her findings there.
Thanksgiving Dinner at the Café—Part I
up bright and early on Thanksgiving Day, glanced at the clock and realized
that Jupiter was due within the hour. I guessed that meant he'd actually
be there in 90 minutes. My favorite uncle wasn't famous for punctuality.
As it turned
out, I was right. Jupiter knocked at my door right on time—30 minutes
late. As I cracked the door, he handed me a corsage, and said, "It's
turkey day, hon. Ready?"
despite the fact that he was wearing a perfectly pressed tux, he scooped
me up and carried me down the stairs. I grabbed for the railing on our
way down, a bit worried that my not-so-graceful escort might drop me,
and said, "Hey, Big Guy, my ankle's all better now. I can walk
need to waste your strength, babe," he answered, huffing and puffing
a bit. Mercury was waiting there for us, chauffeur-style, standing next
to a great big Caddy—the old "boat" style. It just had to
be Jupiter's. While he was in the transportation-oriented sign of Gemini,
nothing but a huge car would do. Our driver was dressed in black from
head to toe—in Scorpio, in other words. He opened the door, Jupiter
stuffed me ungracefully in the back, and as I straightened myself up,
they climbed into the front seat.
at the Café in record time—no big surprise when you're riding with the
gods of travel. We pulled up in front, the Café door opened and a lovely
lady in an evening gown, elbow-length white gloves and a long, long
strand of pearls came out. It was Venus in Capricorn, my own Venus-sign—but
she looked a lot more elegant than I ever have. Then again, I'm a Sag,
so no matter what sign Venus is in, I'm still not exactly what you'd
call "elegant." Not even close.
and air-kissed each of us as we went inside. It was immediately obvious
that the Moon had outdone herself once again—it smelled absolutely wonderful
the planets were already assembled around the formally set table. The
Sun in Sagittarius was seated in his throne at the head of the table,
with the Moon's matching throne to his left. He was wearing a dark red
suit, and hiking boots. Yep. That would be my sign. Mars, who just had
to be in Libra, was, appropriately, at the Sun's right, as any good
king's champion would be. The two were fixated on the television set—which,
of course, was set to the game. I smiled to myself. Some things never
changed. Pluto sat in the corner, looking a lot like Steven Seagal.
A gorgeous Asian woman was with him, dressed in a short, tight black
leather dress, black leather hip-boots and red lipstick. They were staring
into each other's eyes intensely.
As I took
my seat between Jupiter and Venus, Mars glanced in my direction. "Hey,
I hate to brag," he said—a very Libra way of announcing that he
was about to do just that—"but did you see my picture on the cover
sorry?" I was a bit confused. I subscribed to Newsweek,
but I couldn't remember Mars being on the cover.
out a copy from beneath his chair, held it up and smiled proudly. The
headline read, "And The Winner Is?" and the illustration was
half-Gore and half-Bush. Ah, yes. I got it. With Mars in Libra, the
sign of balance, it made sense that the most publicized battle in the
world had basically been a draw.
that's my cover, too, you know," Mercury said. "I was
the one who was stationed, after all."
in the mood to fight—another Libra symptom. "Yes, you're right,
to be fair, you were quite involved. But when a battle ends in a tie,
that's my doing."
laughed. "Whatever. I'm just amazed at what those people have been
doing with all this. Talk about black humor…"
Saturn leaned forward, dressed in his full military regalia. He glared at Mercury,
and said, "This isn't a bit funny. It's a very serious situation.
Do you realize national security is at stake? Do you see what's happening
to the markets? Our reputation as a global super-power is a joke!"
crossed his hands and scowled at Saturn. "Yeah, well, if your side
would just be fair, and let the recount go forward, this wouldn't be
happening. We'd have our president." He took a long swig of beer.
"And it wouldn't be Junior, either."
remains to be seen, Jupiter," Saturn answered, never giving him
eye contact. "After your side gets done playing childish
games, that is." He cleared his throat.
That's enough!" The Moon came through the kitchen door, with
Neptune behind her.
really, it's time to put our differences aside and enjoy a nice, peaceful
family dinner," Venus said, taking a drag on a long cigarette holder.
I sat silently,
not knowing what to do next. I had always thought of myself as a very
well-informed citizen, and since my own Mars was in the
Ninth House of my chart, I wasn't shy about expressing my political opinions—but
in this company? I decided to pass on commenting.
table fell silent as the Moon and Neptune began serving up a wonderful
feast. The Moon put a huge turkey in the center of the table, and stood
back proudly to look at it. She turned to Jupiter, handed him a carving
set and said, "Would you, darling?"
jumped up. "You betcha, Momma Moon. Anything for you, baby."
around and realized we were missing someone. "Where's Uranus?"
spoke up. "Well, he hates to show up anywhere on time—that would
be following the rules, see, and we can't have that, can we?"
the wind picked up outside, and began to howl. The glass windows of
the Café shook as if a hurricane was en route.
Mercury said. That would be him now."
Dinner at the Café—Part II