The Cobb Salad is a truly work of art. Many can be fairly complex. When I was a young adult, I waitressed at a restaurant that made us memorize the menu– and the hack for remembering the Cobb Salad was AABBCCDDE. These letters stood for: arugula, avocado, bacon, blue cheese, chicken, chopped tomato, dressing, diced onion, and egg. (Not bad for an ex-server 30 years out of the biz!) Some restaurants slice each of the items individually and line them up in formal rows on top of the lettuce base and serve the dressing on the side. Others finely chop all of the ingredients together and toss them with tons of dressing to create an architectural pyramid out of the whole mixture. Now that’s a 3D dinner I’m down for. Except…I’m not an avocado fan, so I’m always asking them to “86” the green stuff. I’m convinced that this preference has to do with astrology.
I’m an Aquarius with Blue Cheese Rising. Avocado is not in my house at all– not even during a Blue Moon or a Solar Eclipse, and especially not when Mercury is in Retrograde. My very good friend Paul absolutely detests blue cheese (so does my sister!). He is an Aries with an Avocado Moon. It’s amazing that we are such good friends considering, but I guess our Chocolate Stars align once a month over Jacques Torres and that keeps our bond strong. My son is a Scorpio with a Bacon Moon– doesn’t that just explain everything?! And although my Mother is a fellow Aquarian, her chart shows Hot Fudge Rising. (If she doesn’t have Dairy Queen on a regular basis she truly does have a meteoric meltdown.) My cousin Andi is a Sagittarius, and she is ruled by Coffee Yogurt, but her Sun dictates the Seasonal Toppings. My Dad is a Florida Capricorn, so he passes through the House of New York Prime at least every Wednesday night.
I love reading my horoscope and embracing the possibilities that those words encourage. And if I’m not so thrilled with the daily description in my own house, I knock on neighboring doors until I find one more inspiring in another astrological zone. So many things define us, and I’m not comfortable being boxed into just one column. So going forward, I’ve decided that I’m going to identify as “Astroflexible” so that I can move fluidly into whatever column foreshadows good news on the horizon. (I bet there are a whole bunch of closet Astroflexibles out there just bouncing around in the celestial universe wanting to decolumnize as well!) But no matter my sign or my moon, avocados will not be rising in my house anytime soon… and that, my friends, is new wave Gastrology.
jenslittleblackbook.com 