365 True Things: 137/Off

You ever have a day when nothing seems to go right? Sure you do.

I had one of those today. It actually started going haywire around noon, when I sat down and wrote an email to the head bear manager at Yellowstone, joining the outcry about Blaze, the sow that they were considering "euthanizing" (killing) because she followed her instinct and protected her cubs. Immediately after sending it, I read that Blaze had been killed. So very very sad. Surely there is a better way to deal with such tragedies. Especially as we humans continue to squeeze wildness into a corner.

So that got me grumpy, and then I headed in to Carmel to get my hair cut—and ended up in the middle of Car Week Madness. Yes, every year at this time, there's a big fancy car show called Concours d'Elegance/ Concorso Italiano. It irritates me no end. So much money spent on . . . cars. They're beautiful cars, sure. But the opulence and wealth: they rub me the wrong way. Especially when I'm feeling grouchy to begin with. A dozen cars selling for $10 million each, and well over a hundred more going for a cool million-plus? That's crazy. I just hope those people also put their money to useful, socially beneficial objectives as well.

I had to park half a mile away, but I'd allowed time. I got to the salon, and no Charlene. Okay, I was early. I waited, playing a game on my phone. At 2:06 I called and left her a message. Maybe I got the appointment time wrong?

Slogged back to my beat-up 4Runner, past all the Lamborghinis and Ferraris and cherry old Mercedeses and Rollses and even fancier cars whose names I'll never know. Then headed toward Highway 1, which looked backed up, so I decided to take the long way home. On one stretch of winding Laureles Grade, half a dozen Maseratis, each a different color, zipped past me going the other way. It was pretty, and I bet they are fun to drive. As long as they don't get in my way, I guess they're okay . . .

I decided to go the long long way home and swing by a hardware store to pick up salt for the water softener. There, I was held up when a customer had to lumber to his car to get the two dollars he was short on his purchase, and then when I found the gate to the pick-up area closed. I went back into the store, and a clerk picked the salt up for me, chop-chop. That sweetened my mood. We chatted about it being "one of those days" (he'd overslept, he said, but still managed to get to work by 5 a.m.—which made me feel sheepish, considering I slept in until 8), and he said he hoped my day got better. I said it had to—then wondered if I was jinxing myself, and now I'd get in a wreck on my way home.

Fortunately, that didn't happen. Nothing happened on my way home, aside from slow traffic. When I got home, Charlene called. She said she had me down for tomorrow at 2. And when I looked at my datebook, sure enough: Friday, 2! Feeling foolish can also help to alleviate the grumps. We laughed about my error—even while she commiserated at my now having to brave Car Week twice.

All afternoon, I paid attention to my grouch-o-meter, and tried to keep a lid on it. What especially helped was thinking back to this morning, when I went for a walk with my friend Jen along the shore. Out on the rocks, and swooping and swirling over the water, calling their kerrrrr-eaky call, were hundreds of terns (common terns, I'm thinking). I'm not sure I've ever seen so many here at once. They made my heart pure glad.




So to soothe my poor annoyed self as I dealt with the oh-so-irritating world this afternoon, I summoned up a picture of the terns in my mind's eye. And of a great egret delicately balancing on a cypress branch. And tried not to think about one less bear in the world, and two motherless cubs destined for a zoo.