The Post Wherein I Advise You Not To Look For Sesame Seeds at the Grocery Store in the Mountains

I am freshly returned from the mountains, and I carry the extra poundage to prove it. For what else is there to do in the mountains but find a comfy place to sit and...sit there? And eat fried foods (french fries, sweet potato fries, fried shrimp, fried fish)? And eat ice cream (the supremely evil Chips Galore chocolate chip and vanilla ice cream sandwich!)? Ack, the shame. But I think the view was extraordinarily beautiful this year:


Nothing of note happens at the lake in the mountains. Absolutely nothing. Or, more accurately, the only things of note that occur are things like this:

At the grocery store, I meandered about in search of sesame seeds. Out of luck, I approached a young man—let's say he was eighteen years old, or so—and said, "Excuse me, do you have sesame seeds?"

The young man looked terrified. He stared at me as if I'd asked if they carry human flesh in the meat department. He said nothing. I repeated my question. Then he said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

It was my turn to stare at him. How does one respond to such blankness? Finally I said, "You know those little white things on the outside of hamburger buns? Those are sesame seeds."

"Oh!" he said. He led me to another aisle, stopped in front of a selection of dry beans, and pointed.

"That's okay," I said. "I'll ask someone else."

"It's my first day," he explained. At which point I raised my eyebrows and performed a crisp about-face.

What will become of this young mountain man, my friends? WHAT WILL BECOME OF HIM?!