I've Got A Beef

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Everyone feel nice and warm after yesterday's trip down our childhood memory lanes? Good, because it's been a while since I had a good old beef session on this blog, and I've been saving up annoyances to share with you all, in the hopes that misery loves company. 

 

1. Fuel oil. Oh, my God. Okay, I know the rise in price has been caused by 8 or 9 or 10 different commercial, international and weather events that are vastly beyond my or my oil delivery guy's power to affect. Most of you don't have to interact with the fuel oil industry; only 10% of American homes are heated that way. But 75% of Maine houses rely on that big ol' oil truck pulling up to get 'er done. And you can just imagine how fast my drafty, 200-year-old house goes through the black gold. Texas tea. Etc.

In fact, the thing that really has me cheesed off is my furnace repair guy, Rick. A little over three years ago, the old oil tanks - a joined pair that held 500 gallons - had finally had it and needed to be replaced. I talked over whether to get another 500 gallon behemoth, or the more usual (and cheaper) 275 gallon version. "People used to fill up in the summer and take advantage of the lower price," Rick said, "but oil's been pretty stable year round for a long time now." So I went with the smaller tank. Why didn't you warn me about 7% inflation, Rick???

 

2.Burdocks. Why is it the plants I select, pay for, carefully set in the soil and mulch die before the end of the season, but those G-- D--- burdocks are taking over my property. Actually, that's not true; they aren't everywhere; they only cluster in areas where my dogs like to run back and forth repeatedly, so the impossible-to-remove burrs get stuck in their ears, muzzles, tails, legs, and in one memorable case, up where the sun don't shine. Yes, my daughter and I had to perform a burr-ectomy on Rockie's butt. There hasn't been a spot of green on my property for months (except for the Christmas tree I still haven't loaded up to take to the town dump) but those burdocks poke their dead dried heads above the frozen snow like a horde of zombies in The Walking Dead.

 

3.Is it "Keev" or "Key-yev?" Okay, this may be very niche. We're all worried about the situation in Ukraine, I'm sure, and I've been hearing quite a bit about it on NPR which is where I get most of my news (and entertainment. And weather forecasts. And tote bags.) Anyway, I've noticed  a new pronunciation creeping in: reporters who refer to the capital city of the country as "Keev."

Say what? Let me tell you, on the NPR classical station, when the announcers talk about Mussgorsky's Pictures at an Exhibition, they say "The Great Gates of Key-yev." Is it Key-yev? Is it Keev? I'm really hoping it's not the latter, because I only managed to stop saying "THE Ukraine" a few years ago. I still get confused with Siam and Thailand and Ceylon and Sri Lanka. I'm all set with Istanbul, though, thanks.

4. Bridgerton. Whyyyy do I have to wait almost a month for the second season of Bridgerton?!? Ted Lasso's not going to be out until the latter half of 2022, and I don't think they've even hinted at a drop date for the next season of Only Murders in the Building. In fact, my relationship with all our streaming services seems to be: wait with impatient longing to get a show I'm dying to see, binge it down within a week, and then wait a year or longer for the next season. (Side grouse: when did six episodes become a season? I remember when you got twenty-two new episodes a year with TV shows! Now get off my lawn.)

We have, paid for by different family members, HBO Max, Netflix, Disney+, Apple TV, Amazon Prime and Hulu. And between the lot, there's only one show a month I'm every actually interested in. Verily, the Golden Age of TV has feet of clay.

 

5.Ham. You probably do not have an issue with ham, dear reader, and until recently, I didn't either. I love ham. So twelve days ago, when I found a local store was selling spiral cut ham for $0.99 per pound, I grabbed one. I rooted around and got the smallest one I could find - about eleven pounds. It didn't look too big. And it smelled so good in the oven. Tasted like heaven!

But the only people eating this ham are me, and my young friend and temporary lodger Samantha. The meals have gone like this:

1st night: Ham, baked potatoes, green peas. Happiness.

2nd day: Ham sandwiches. Yummy.

2nd night: More ham. At least it's easy.

3rd day: Ham sandwich with fried egg to add a kick.

3rd night: Pasta with ham.

4th day: Ham on leftover cornbread.

4th night: Scalloped potatoes with ham.

5th day: Ham and despair. 

And so on. Dear readers, I still have almost half a ham left! I may be forced to learn how to grind and pot meat just to do something with the rest of it. I just wanted sliced ham and a sandwich the next day, and instead I've entered some sort of Sisyphean existence where every day I roll a ham up a tall hill and every morning it's back at the bottom of the fridge, as large as ever.

But I have faith; someday, I'll be down to the bone, and then it will finally be time for homemade bean soup. Of course, it's a big bone, so it will have to be a very big pot of soup...

Dear readers, what's been driving you bonkers lately?