In Search of the Lentil

I thought the lentil was an ordinary bean, a yummy main dish, a vegetarian staple.

But here, in God's armpit (this is a loving term for west Texas) they no longer sell the little beans, apparently.

I was at the specialty grocery store this evening, stocking up on vegetarian dishes, and there were several other people there at 9:30: a gay couple, an Indian man, a local tattoo artist and his girlfriend, and a handful of female college students. Not a busy evening.

I went down every isle. This is my second grocery store. I was disappointed by two things: 1) no lentils (how do you not have a little bag of beans?!) 2) no 6-pack of eggs (I will not eat 12 before they expire).

(This post is dying slowly, so I stop here... this is what has happened to me now, that my friends have all officially graduated and moved away, gotten married, or had babies: I buy expensive food. I sit at home and write the strangest poetry yet. I consider Iowa caucuses and Annie Lammott's books. I engage others at work only because they ask about my dog. I worry about the state of West Texas because of its lack of lentils until it is way past my bedtime and write about it on my knitting blog. But there are vegetarian knitters out there, right? There are other lentil eaters? What, oh what, am I going to do with all my stewed tomatoes without any lentils?)