In search of sanity in a loony tune world

I've had enough years of therapy to have a full toolbox of Things to Think/Do When Feeling Depressed or Manic or Just at Loose Ends.  Today the only tool I could think of was the car keys.  No place in my house was the right place to be, so I took to the road.  First to North Shattuck to check food offerings at the Gourmet Ghetto.  Did I want gelato?  soup?  sushi? Mexican? pizza? scone?

After a several-store survey, I bought a large chocolate chip cookie that  seemed to  include sesame seeds and sat on a bench outside The Cheeseboard watching tourists have their pictures taken in front of Chez Panisse.  Next to me on the bench was a young woman mesmerized by texting.  Every once in awhile, she'd furtively sneak another slice of pizza from the box on her lap. It seemed lonely.  I think we each would have profitted from a chat.

Then , still restless,  I drove to Fourth Street.   The last time I was there, I had an out-of-town pal with me, and she and I had to scream at each other over lunch at Cafe Rouge in order to be heard. This time a middle-aged woman was playing the national anthem on an accordion in front of Peet's. I could hardly believe it.  A lot of people were studiously ignoring her. Wrong audience on so many levels.

I came home with two new books: "Farm City: The Education of an Urban Farmer," by Novella Carpenter and "Innocent" by Scott Turow.  Nothing else appealed.   When I left Fourth Street, the accordion lady was annihilating "More."