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 reports regularly on her findings there.

Cosmic Café 42:
Thanksgiving Dinner at the Café—Part II

The Café door blew open, and a striking, barefoot god entered. He was wearing his traditional stiffly starched white toga, and he hadn't bothered to do anything to his unruly hair, beard or bushy eyebrows.

The Moon was in Scorpio, and not in the mood for this. "Sit down, Uranus. You're late."

Amazingly enough, the God of Rebellion minded his manners, and sat down.

In general, the dinner went along well. The Sun in Sag kept most of his attention on the television set, watching the game intently. The Moon and Neptune kept our plates and glasses full, and Jupiter, obviously our self-ordained entertainment committee, told jokes and stories. Pluto and his date didn't participate much—it was obviously tough for them to concentrate on anything but the sexual magnetism between them. Venus, in her elegant Capricorn gown, nibbled discreetly on her meal, and chatted quietly with Mars in Libra, the perfect gentleman. Uranus barely ate. He was far more interested in playing with the silverware, and making strange gadgets from it. Mercury in Scorpio was obsessing on the election, and brought it up whenever he could—despite the fact that the Moon in Scorpio was sending him dirty looks I knew I wouldn't mess around with.

Saturn didn't say a word. He sat silent and rigid, eating slowly, and chewing carefully—of course.

When the dinner was finished, I was absolutely stuffed. The Moon and Neptune cleared the table and disappeared into the kitchen. I looked around the table at my wonderful companions. The candlelight cast fabulous shadows, and I realized I had a lot to be thankful for.

Suddenly, the kitchen door opened again, and the Moon appeared—with a birthday cake, blazing with candles. I assumed this was for the Sun—until she set it down in front of me and the whole gang began clapping.

Jupiter hugged me, hard, as per. "Happy birthday, babe! You didn't think we'd forget, did you?"

I was stunned. The planets had remembered my birthday—November 26. "Count 'em, babe," Jupiter said. "43, right?"

I sighed. Wasn't it only ten minutes ago that I had been 26? "Yep. 43."

Venus in Capricorn understood my feelings immediately, and reached a gloved hand over to pat mine. "It's all right, darling. You're not getting older, you're getting better." She winked knowingly at me, as Mars stood and presented me with a huge bouquet of roses—43 of them. He kissed my cheek and returned to Venus' side.

"The candles, babe—get the candles," Jupiter said. I made a wish, and blew out the candles—first shot. Then Jupiter jumped up. "It's time for presents!" Mercury ran into the kitchen and came back with several huge, beautifully-wrapped boxes.

My eyes teared up. In all my 43 years, I'd never had a surprise birthday party. This was truly wonderful.

Mercury placed the boxes on the dinner table and handed Jupiter an envelope, which he then presented to me. "Open it, babe!" Jupiter said. "I'm just dyin' to see if you like what I got you!" Ah, yes. Jupiter in Gemini. If the King of the Gods was already known for his impatience—and for his inability to keep a secret—in Gemini, he had to be literally busting at the seams.

He had given me a photo of a gorgeous racehorse, running at top speed. The white fence that surrounded his field stood out in stark contrast to his powerful blue-black body. "He's beautiful," I said to Jupiter. "I'll frame this."

He smiled at me, and said, "You don't get it, do you, babe?"

"What?" I said.

"He's yours—a retired racer. His name is Jonathan Swift."

I was touched. I actually started to cry. I hugged Jupiter hard, and said, "Thank you so very much. I've always wanted a horse of my own."

"I know," he said, grinning proudly.

"Open mine next," Saturn said, quietly. The whole table fell silent. Mercury handed me a small package, then ducked quickly into the kitchen.

Saturn's "gift-box" was dark green, with a bough of evergreen as decoration. Inside, I found a calculator and a year's supply of calcium tablets. I grinned at him. The Old Nay-Sayer was trying to apologize for breaking my ankle. "Thank you, Saturn," I said.

Mercury burst out of the kitchen. "Wait a sec, girl! He got you something else!" He wheeled a state-of-the-art office-chair toward me—and halfway across the floor, apparently couldn’t resist the temptation. He hopped on and rolled merrily toward me.

"Mercury!" Saturn bellowed. Mercury hopped quickly out of the chair, a feigned look of terror on his face.

"Thank you so very much," I said, and rose to hug Saturn.

He held up his hand. "That's not necessary. I just wanted you to have something sensible that was good for your body."

I sat back down. For the next half-hour, I opened a variety of boxes, all done up according to the "tastes" of the planet who'd given the gift. Pluto's was black, of course, wrapped in gold ribbon with a bright red bow on the center. Inside, I found a tiny, lacy Victoria's Secret lingerie set. Jupiter, of course, made me hold it up, but Venus and I couldn't look. We just giggled. Neptune's box contained bubble bath, champagne, scented candles and a wonderful pillow designed for the bathtub. Uranus gave me a new computer I just knew was the absolute cutting-edge best—and a tape of thunderstorms, my favorite thing about that unpredictable god. Mercury's gifts were electronic, too—but there was a bit of Scorpio in there, too. He gave me a DVD player, and a complete set of films based on Poe, Stephen King and Sherlock Holmes stories.

The Sun in Sag presented me regally with his box, containing a world atlas, a pair of hiking boots and a round-trip ticket to Egypt, saying, "You've always wanted to see the pyramids, haven't you?"

The Moon's gifts were, of course, comforting ones. She'd chosen a plush black, red and gold comforter, a huge box of herb tea, a bathrobe and big fuzzy slippers.

Venus' gift came last. It was wrapped as elegantly as the goddess was dressed, and held an evening gown identical to hers, a set of pearl earrings, a strand of pearls and two tickets to The Phantom of the Opera—for that very evening. I hugged her, and said, "Who's going with me? You? Jupiter?"

Mercury smiled mischievously. Jupiter cleared his throat. Then the door to the Café opened, and an absolutely gorgeous tall, dark-haired man came in. He wore a police captain's dress uniform, and came directly to my chair. "That would be me. I'm your blind date."

Venus and I exchanged glances—and a silent message. What was more attractive than a man in a uniform to Venus in Capricorn? I hugged her, and thanked them all, as my date pulled out my chair and took my arm.

"Not too late!" Saturn warned, shaking his long, bony finger.

"Oh, just have a great time, babe," Jupiter said. "I'll handle old Dr. No."

We got to the door in time to hear the argument starting. Saturn was telling Jupiter I had work to do, Jupiter was arguing that birthdays only come once a year and Venus was laughing happily. I was, too.

Next Week: The planets discuss the election, and the Moon begins decorating.