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I'm married to an insanely great chef. She has a degree in Culinary Arts, she's cooked at the James Beard Foundation in New York and she was a pastry chef at an upscale, white tablecloth restaurant called Amis. She's one of those frustratingly creative chefs who can open a cabinet, see a box of rice, a bottle of syrup and some week-old crackers and whip up a spectacular meal from it. Including dessert.

Needless to say we eat pretty well around here.

You'd think with all the meals she's made for the family, and all the years we've been married, some of that culinary know-how would've rubbed off on me. You'd think that. But you'd be wrong. Cooking wise, I'm still pretty much at the same skill level as when I came into the marriage. One thing I know how to make, and make pretty damn well, is meat squares.

Hang on, I'll tell you.

First you go to the market and get some ground beef. A pound, two pounds, three pounds depending on how many people you're feeding. Then you mix it up with ketchup, onions and some salt and pepper. Mix it up good, and flatten it into a square Pyrex dish. Place in oven at 350 degrees for twenty minutes, then serve to a grateful, hungry public.

I know meat squares isn't the most appetizing name. It even sounds like a euphemism for something far less savory. But when you bring that hot meat square out of the oven—I prefer using the Hello Kitty oven mits—I guarantee mouths will be watering. They may be watering for something else, but still.

The other dish in my pre-marriage repertoire is a little item I like to call the open-face, reverse turkey melt. Here's how it goes.

Take two pieces of bread, I prefer sourdough. Then squirt the ketchup of your choice into a design of your choice on each of the slices. Sometimes I'll make a happy face, other times it'll be the sun with ketchup rays emanating from the sides. One time I tried to do the comedy and tragedy masks, one on each slice. Let's just say tragedy won out.

Next, put a couple slices of turkey on each slice of bread, and sprinkle some shredded pepperjack cheese over each slice. Then put them your toaster oven for four and half minutes at 275 degrees.

When the little bell dings, out comes a hot, cheesy, delicious, almost real tasting meal.

Of course, the good news is I don't have to make a meal for myself very often. It's intimidating being married to someone who can cook anything when I'm only limited to a couple dishes of my own. Don't get me wrong, I can do a few other things. Eggs scrambled or over easy. Put pasta in boiling water. If I'm feeling particularly healthy, even steam some broccoli. But those things aren't my creations. I just know how to do them.

As a gift the wife gave me two cooking classes at Sur La Table not too long ago. I took the first one, which was called The Ten Things Every Chef Should Know.

In my cookbook, number eleven is meat squares.

What took so long?

Right at the beginning, let me apologize for the Andy Rooney-ness of this post.

Every once in awhile, it strikes me as amazing the things people will put up with. And how long they'll put up with them.

Even more so when the answer/solution that takes its sweet time arriving is so obvious. So logical. So in your face, you can't believe it took so long to get here.

Like self-adhesive postage stamps. Hello? What was the hold up here?

I remember my parents having me lick stamps on envelopes for our holiday cards. Sadly I also remember to. this. day. the awful taste of the government-issue glue the postal service used.

I would've written a letter to complain, but it would've been just one more stamp to lick.

On a related note, same goes for return address labels. Even though I'm sure the labels were self-adhesive before stamps, I also remember having my hand cramp up writing our address over and over on so many envelopes.

So what if my parents cards got lost in the mail. It was the mail.

Another "what took so long?" Wheels on suitcases.

I can remember trying to lift one of the big, solid suitcases my parents packed when we went on trips. I couldn't lift it because obviously they'd packed it with bricks. Which didn't really matter, because even if they'd packed it with feathers suitcases back then were made of lead. Or at least it felt like it when you tried lugging one through the airport. Or the resort. Or the parking lot.

To this day, I'm convinced it was a conspiracy between Samsonite and the American Chiropractic Association.

I can literally remember the first suitcase I saw with wheels. I also remember the choir voices I heard when I saw it.

The first models had the old, roller-skate type wheels - big and hard to swivel (just like my high school girlfriend). Those wheels were magical in the way they could make every surface they rolled on sound like gravel.

But I didn't have to lift suitcases anymore. Who cared how they sounded.

Finally another minor miracle of our times. The upside down ketchup bottle.

In a society where time is money, who could afford the hours it sometimes took waiting for the ketchup to come out of the bottle? Okay, not really hours. It just felt like it when the fries were getting cold.

But now that ketchup bottles have gravity working on their side, that time can be spent much more productively. Eating.

I'm sure you have a few "what took so long?" examples of your own. I'd love to hear about them.

That's the end of this post for now.

And yes, I know what you're asking yourself.