Horoscope

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)
While I was browsing at the toy store, a mischievous-looking crone sidled up, winked, and handed me a GI Joe doll dressed in an outfit that reminded me of Mexico's freedom-fighters, the Zapatistas. "Subcomandante Marcos has a message for your Capricorn readers," she cackled. A piece of paper was stuffed in the doll's jacket. I unfolded it and read the following: The more you lose, the more you gain. The woman ran off before I could ask her to elaborate. Later, while meditating on your current astrological omens, I came to the conclusion that they agree with her oracle: You have a Houdini-esque talent for wiggling free of straitjackets, stripping away masks, and slipping out of pigeonholes. In conclusion, I believe you should try to shed things that are cramping your style.

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)
When heroes in fairy tales are rewarded (usually for their acts of kindness), the gifts they get are often designed to be used for protection or stealth: a cloak of invisibility, for instance, or a magic cudgel that can drive away enemies, or shoes of swiftness that bestow the power to flee every danger. Other heroes receive blessings that are meant mostly to enhance the enjoyment of life: a lamp with a genie, a cauldron that provides a never ending supply of delicious, rejuvenating food, or a horn that can summon enchanted playmates from the fairy realm. I bring this up, Aquarius, because I believe you will soon collect a boon for your recent good deeds. If you have any choice in the matter, the stars say you should ask for something from the latter category.

PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20)
I was out of gomasio, a blend of sesame seeds and sea salt that I sprinkle on my meals. Since dinner was imminent, I decided to make a special trip to the health food store. Half an hour later, I was back home, unloading my groceries. Oops. Though I'd gathered $150 worth of grub, I'd somehow neglected to snag the delicacy that had motivated my foray. Immediately I fell into a swoon of self-criticism. "What does it say about me," I fumed, "that I forgot to even look for the thing I wanted most?!" An hour later, as I meditated on your astrological omens, I realized you needed to hear my sad tale. Let's hope it wakes you up to your own tendency to go blank about your fondest dream.

Let's get you ready for a Summer of Love by having you write your ultimate personal ad. Share it with me at zenpride@freewillastrology.com.