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Craft can mean craft beer, I guess, if you’d rather not with the scissors. You’ve got a full moon today, November 3rd, lighting up your fourth house of home and family.
Look for The One, not Jupiter (who’s making this happening by sprinkling “shimmering gold dust” everywhere ) or you’ll get distracted. Oh would you look at that, I started a sentence then distracted myself then started another one and here we are.
No offense, Pony Boy Curtis, but “nothing gold can stay” my ass. The air is crisp, Susan Miller’s fate predictions on Astrology smell like apple cinnamon (by the way, read this if you have time — it makes me love her more), and I’m delirious from at least four days straight of horoscope-specific procrastination. Let’s make like a pile of leaves and dive the fuck in. I’ll leave the reference at that, but will say I used to be scared of sand — any sand, really — for fear there was a scorpion waiting to pinch my toe in it and now, in comparison, I think scorpions look like shiny kittens. If the past year has felt like an overgrown terrarium of messy crap covered in moss then start warming up your weed whacker: it’s gonna change in November.