Not that I really believe in horoscopes, mind you, but if I did, it would be a great time to be a Capricorn, which I am. I have to admit to reading the daily Yahoo horoscope as well as the back pages in Elle, where I'm learning all the French astrology vocab. All these places tell me that I can expect to have it all in the coming months -- social, career, everything will go my way if I just go for it. Oh happy day!
So I find myself in New York City right now, drumming up support for Lafayette 2007, celebrating two centuries of French-American friendship. (Why don't we ever say American/French friendship? A question to be pondered another day.) Contacts and meetings are productive, and thus the career prospects of this old goat -- er, I mean Capricorn -- are looking up.
Jet lagged beyond mercy, at 6:00 am I am pressing my nose against the window of the Starbucks on Columbus and W. 76th, thirsting for my triple-grande-no-foam-no-fat latte, which I haven't tasted (or missed) for three months. Settling into my window seat with that first magical sip, I take out some light reading. Not Elle magazine, but L Magazine www.thelmagazine.com, a hip New York freebie. On the last page, I kid you not, here is this week's horoscope for Capricorns, written by Laps Trinity:
"Why can't the Yanks and the Frenchies get along? Ever since the whole Freedom Fry flap happened, I've been trying to reconcile these two groups, whom I love dearly. I've had transnational adventure camps, quiz nights, key parties ... all the fun things I could think of. But you know what finally did it, Capricorn? Getting them to gang up on Canada. When in doubt, attack the weak."
Now, how can I NOT believe in horoscopes?