The Turkey’s Day
I’ve figured out why the pilgrims set aside three days to celebrate the first Thanksgiving. No one knew when the turkeys would be done. Not even the Indians knew when to show up.
Cooks everywhere have this turkey problem unless they are having a particularly good Thanksgiving year. You know the one when there are no lumps in the gravy, the dressing doesn’t dry out, somebody remembers to put the cranberry sauce on the table and your cousin twice removed doesn’t show up.
But other years turkeys have the upper hand. I don’t care how many calls you make to the Butterball hotline, bury it three-feet deep in hot coals, deep fry it, or hide it in a baking bag, this old bird won’t turn into a golden gobbler until it’s good and ready. Even Paula Dean, who everyone knows stuffs hers with a pound of butter, can’t guarantee when the turkey will be ready to come out of the oven.
Some cooks forget to turn the oven on after they slid the turkey in. Others forget to remove the frozen neck and giblets. Either way, these cooks probably shouldn’t waste their time signing up for culinary school.
Frustrated cook s try to work out a fool proof system for gauging the cooking time. Like subtracting the suggested baking time per pound from the price of the turkey or adjusting the oven temperature to the length of the turkey. Either way, the results are pretty well the same.
Could be something that sticks in their craws that makes them so ornery. Turkeys are known to carry a grudge and hate having their heads chopped off. I”ve seen a 25-pound turkey cook in two hours and dry out before the Tulsa relatives get out of the city limits. I’ve seen a 12-pounder cook for fourteen hours and still look like ham on the inside when you finally carve it.
Even if your turkey happens to turn out perfect and on time, these barnyard wonders don’t give up. Turkey leftovers hang around forever – or at least two weeks. I’ve seen cooks hide the leftovers in casseroles, breads, desserts and souffles. Some even use the dark meat to half-sole their house slippers.
The trick is not to get discouraged if your Thanksgiving meal doesn’t work out too well. Christmas is just around the corner and you can have another run at it.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
Catch These This N’ Thats
Hello, I have decided to visit with you more often, for one thing I need to keep you in the social flow. But before I go there I want to pass on to you the most incredible animal story I have ever read. It is about a 20 minute read and I guarantee you will not be able to read it without crying. I tried it on four people, men and women and they all cried.
The book is “Nubs The True Story of a Mutt, a Marine & a Miracle by Major Brian Dennis, Kirby Larson and Mary Nethery. It is published by Little, Brown and Company and sells for $17.99. Beautifully illustrated the book tells of an incredible dog who lived in a pack in the midst of the Iraqi war, who was befriended by a Marine Major who gave him both medical and loving care. The two bonded until duty relocated the Marines 70 miles away. Injured, half starving this little dog made his way across 70 miles of desert to find the battalion and thus began an amazing series of events that finally brought him to the states. Please let me know if this one doesn’t bring you to tears.
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Update on fundraisers: Wine Through Time benefit at the Edmond Historical Society & Museum., Nov. 12 from 6 to 8:30 p.m. The museum is locaed at 431 S. Boulevard. Tickets are $50 per person. For more information call 340-0078.
Evening of Jazz in the Jungle benefit for the Lupus Foundation of America, OK Chapter. Oklahoma City Zoo, Canopy Restaurant, Nov. 14, 7:00 p.m. Buffet dinner, live and silent auctions and music by Resident Funk. Cost is $50 per person. For more information call 427-8787.
Daron Ross, Robert Pritchard, public relations adviser to the agency, Laura Walker, Rose Russo, David Tarpenning, advertising adviser to the agency and Lance Morales.
An Open House and viewing of the new Lindsey+Asp advertising and public relations agency in the Gaylord College of Journalism and Mass Communications, drew a number of visitors. Students and professors gave guests tours of the new agency on the second floor. A light lunch was then served in the InAsMuch Foundation Commons Area on the first floor. Guests were picked up from parking lots and transported by vans to and from Gaylord Hall.
Joe Foote is the dean of the Gaylord College of Journalism and Mass Communication.
Don and Sandra Bobzien, Renzi Stone, Debbie Youst and Joe Foote.
I BRAKE FOR GARAGE SALES
Hello, glad you stopped by. Let’s talk garage sales.
For starters, when you spot a car with a bumper sticker that reads “Warning: I Brake for Garage Sales”, you’d better start pumping your brakes!
Garage sale shoppers are so compulsive they can’t pass a sale sign stuck in the ground without stopping. It’s the lure of the bargain – the unexpected rare find – weekend entertainment – you name it. Surely it’s not the $65.42 I made the one time I ventured into this frenzied market.
Let me explain right off that there is a difference between Estate Sales and Garage Sales. For one thing, estate sales are conducted inside a home. Granted it is the same old dusty vases collected over 24 years from hospital stays and the mismatched sets of dishes and paintings nobody knew what to do with, but somehow they look more expensive. Plus, the shoppers are a lot calmer.
Not like the garage sales that make Alice’s Mad Hatter Tea Pary look like a monastery coffee break.
No matter how early you arrive for a garage sale there’s always someone who got there first. At 6:30 a.m. on the morning of my sale, a scary-faced woman pecked on my kitchen window and mouthed an offer for the mailbox and bird feeder. She was so charged up, with the garage doors went up, she grabbed two plastic sacks of garbage and started dragging them to her car. Another woman drove up dressed in pajamas and robe. (I didn’t ask .) She bought a set of four chairs with no seats.
By 7:15 a.m. there were six cars in my driveway, two parked on the lawn and a Smart Car trying to parallel park between the two flower pots flanking my front door (albeit large pots, but come on…)
Garage sale shoppers are happy to shell out money for anything they can grab at a reasonable price – a broken cell phone, consumptive bicycle tire, rusted ice cream churn or a VCR player with no cord. One woman paid $1.25 for a box of candle stubs, $6.50 for a pair of lace gloves missing a finger, $1.00 for an electric toothbrush with a short, $1.50 for a chipped punch bowl with one cup and $3.00 for a set 0f Thanksgiving napkin rings made out of corn shucks. Her husband haggled over exercise equipment larger than his car, a Blackberry someone had run over, a duck decoy with no head, a golf bag with no shoulder strap, a pair of Nike left shoes and a stack of old Playboys. (magazines, that is)
Since no one goes to a garage sale with a shopping list, the only explanation for some of the weird purchases has to be impulse buying. How else can you explain someone getting excited about an orange ceramic warthog, a rusted tackle box or an Elvis night light that sings.
Some of these items were heirlooms and had been in my family for a number of years. Most of them can be traced back to another garage sale.
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Here are a few social notes from my Social Scene weekly Sunday column.
Lyric Theatre’s annual Broadway Ball was a hit again this year.Staged at the Skirvin Hilton Hotel, the gala was a study in black and white. The stair rails were draed in black and white fabric as well as the table cloths. Centerpieces were tall glass containers topped with tight balls of white carnations wearing black top hats.
Bob McKown and Martha and Megal Mullally were the honorees. Amy Bankhead was chairman and her co-chairman was Paula Love.
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Former British Prime Minister Tony Blair’s wife, Cherie Blair, was a recent keynote speaker at a banquet hosted by the Oklahoma Bar Association’s Women in Law Conference at the Skirvin Hilton Hotel Four female attorneys and one judge were honored with Mona Lambird Spotlight Awards.
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Michael Laird was awarded the Crystal Orchid Award for his impact on the beauty and success of the Myriad Botancial Gardens. The presentation was made at the annual Orchids in October luncheon presented by the Myriad Gardens Foundation.
Langston University raised more than $1.1 million at its annual gala at Cox Convention Center. Gov. Brad Henry, Mary Johnson and Cynthia M.A. Butler-McIntyre were honored and Darrin Henson hosted the event after actor Morris Chestnut canceled. Jennifer Holliday from “Dreamgirls” provided entertainment. Proceeds from the galawill go toward funding the university’s scholarship program.
***Some upcoming calender events found in my weekly Sunday Fundraiser Datebook .
Oct 25-Oklahoma County Medical Society Alliance 19th annual Kitchen Tour, 11 a.m. to 5 p.m., Nichols Hills homes; $12 in advance, $15 at the door. 475-9771.
Heritage Hills Historic Homes and Garden tour, noon to 5 p.m., Oct. 24-25. Ticket information, 524-4953.
CAR REPAIR ONE LINERS
Hello, glad you stopped by.
Taken your car in for repairs lately?
If its still under warranty you probably visited a dealership repair shop where the waiting rooms are really swell, (that is if you are driving a pricey car.) These little intimate rooms offer a selection of gourmet coffee and day-old doughnuts (there are no fresh doughnuts in any dealer’s waiting room, it just doesn’t happen) and a service rep sits down and talks to you about your life and what seems to be troubling your car. They give you a car nicer than yours to drive home, wave goodbye and promise to throw in a wash job when they finish just because they are such nice people.
On the other hand, if your warranty has run out you head for a repair garage where the mechanics wear oil stained coveralls and carry dip sticks in their hip pockets.
No matter what the problem they promise a quick fix -…’this won’t take over 15 minutes if you want to wait.’
Two and a half hours later you’re still sitting on a steel bottom correctional institute chair bolted to the floor and leafing through a 1959 spark plug catalog somebody threw on the floor to soak up an old oil slick.
You automatically get a new battery and shock absorbers if you mention the funny noise the motor is making. And, if you bring the car in to have a wiper blade replaced, you drive off with a new set of tires.
Occasionally some naive woman comes in for a major tune-up and leaves her car along with a check list. She gets a ride home in a tow truck with no passenger seat.
The minute she is out of sight the mechanic uses the list to wipe the oil stick. Then he adjusts the pistons to knock when the car is driven under 25 mph instead of knocking when it hits 40, seals the glove compartment so it won’t keep popping open and adjusts the carburetor so the motor will race and it will take both feet on the brakes to keep it from moving off at a stop light.
And, when she picks up her car and gets the bill, there is an overtime charge.
That’s for the five hours it took to drive across town and back, to pick up a part from a supply house that’s only open at night. Something like a plumber who has to make a second house call after hours, because he didn’t have anything in his truck to unstop a toilet.
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Moving on to some notes from my SOCIAL SCENE weekly Sunday column.
Willie Nelson blew into town with his entourage and band to play to a full house at Oklahoma City Golf & Country Club.
Gene Rainbolt picked up the tab for the evening, charging each invited guest a $500 contribution for cancer research at OMRF and the OU Cancer Institute. Tight jeans and designer boots led the fashion statement for the evening and 650 guests piled into the club to raise $360,000.
A group of bankers ”Billy Bob Bovine and the Embryo Transfer’, led by Jay Hannah, (don’t ask about the name, I’m sure it has some deep significance,) played boot scootin’ music throughout the evening, even enticing Burns Hargis to pick up a guitar before the Willie Nelson show began.
Beer and barbecue with all the fixin’s was plentiful. Rainbolt who was celebrating his birthday even though it wasn’t his birthday, welcomed by name all the fellow octagons he spotted. Needless to say they didn’t rush up to the podium and take a bow.
Willie Nelson performed for guests seated in the round in the two formal dining rooms. Some of his classic tunes included Whiskey River, Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys and On the Road Again. All and all, it was a stellar evening!
Gene Rainbolt, Charlotte Lankard, Willie Nelson and OMRF President Steve Prescott
UPCOMING PARTIES:
The “Roaring Twenties” will be the theme for the 2009 Heritage Hills Historic Home Tour Oct. 24 and 25 from noon to 3 p.m.
Home from the following streets will be on the tour: NW 14th, NW 15th, NW 16th and NW 19th streets. A garden also will be featured on NW 19th and the Overholser Mansion will be included on the tour.
Lunch tickets can be purchased for both days of the tour as well as items featuring the Heritage Hills log. Go on line at www.heritagehills.org for ticket information. Tour chairman is Lee Ward and co-chairman is Anne Boozer.
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The Oklahoma county Medical Society Alliance will host its 19th annual Nichols Hills Kitchen Tour Oct. 25 from 11:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.
Each of the kitchens will feature local guests chefs, cooking demonstrations, luxury table settings and floral designs. Also featured on the tour will be a Coffee Bar, Bake Sale and a question & answer session with kitchen designer Karen Black-Sigler.
Admission tickets are $12 each in advance and $15 each the day of the event. They can be purchased at A Karen Black Company, Jamie’s, Lime Leopard, Mediterranean Imports, New Leaf Florists, On A Whim, Tony Foss Flowers, NuNu’s Mediterranean Cafe and Paper Lion in Edmond.
Proceeds benefit Schools for Healthy Lifestales and Health Alliance for the Uninsured. For more information call 323-1553.
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The Oklahoma Heart Hospital Volunteer Auxiliary will host its Second Annual Golf Tourney at Gaillardia Country Club, Oct. 5. The tournament includes 18 holes of golf, lunch, awards reception and a silent auction.
Proceeds will benefit the Oklahoma Heart Hospital patient needs and educational needs and community projects.
For more information call 608-3388.
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Fall Fashion Event and Accessory Demonstration, Sept. 29, 5:00 to 8:00 p.m., Balliet’s at 50 Penn Place. Appetizers, wine, makeup and accessories demonstrations , $35 per person. Sponsored by the Board of the OU Breast Institute; event’s proceeds will benefit the Institute.
25th Anniversary Auction benefit for Free To Live, a non-profit animal sanctuary, Oct. 11, 3 p.m., Clarion Meridian Convention Center. Buffet and cocktails, $30 per person in advance, $40 at the door. For more information call 282-8617.
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Orchids in October, a luncheon tibute honoring Michel S. Laird, Oct. 8, Myriad Botancial Gardens Crystal Bridge, noon; $50 per person; 297-3474.
WATCH OUT FOR OVERHEAD LUGGAGE!
Just as I’m getting the hang of shoving my carryon into the overhead storage and timing it so I’m the first in line to retrieve it, airline regulations change. Now the only thing you can carry on board without a charge is a change of underwear in a ziploc bag.
There are fees for bags, fees to get through the line faster and fees for seats with extra leg room. US Airways even charged for soda and water for a few months until two passengers choked to death on stale peanuts and pretzels because they didn’t have the exact change for a bottle of water.
In order to save money some airlines have gone a step further and are thinking about cutting out some of the extra space in planes. (extra space – it was must be in the cockpit or hidden in First Class.)
Things are so tight when you pull your seat upright, you barely miss resting your chin on the back of the seat in front of you. When you buckle your seat belt you can’t bend over and store anything -much less everything -(including a small child) under your seat. Then, when the plane makes a rough landing, everthing slides to the front and none of it is ever seen again, except possibly by the pilot and co-pilot when it stacks up outside their door.
One air line is now being sued because a stewardess offended a passenger when she told her to put her snack tray up. She was so busy collecting dirty cups she didn’t notice it was the woman’s stomach.
Then there’s the game of who claims the armrest. The trick is to put your elbow on the armrest without touching the other person’s. It can’t be done. You can only hope the passenger will fall asleep and you can knock his arm off without him falling out of his seat.
One of the top priority areas in the plane coming under scrutiny are the bathrooms. ( Surely they jest.) Standing on the lid of the toilet to reach the paper towels is bad enough. Add a little turbulence and you’re knocked through the door into the aisle. Which wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for upsetting the drink carts. Which is a major. Some passengers have nothing else to look forward to except the drink cart. (some people get so excited when they see it inching down the aisle they speak out of turn and ruin the rhythm of the whole thing. This leaves the attendants only three seconds to get everyone served.)
Some passengers extend out into the aisle making it impossible for the drink cart to get by. These oversized travelers have to either climb into the storage bin above or put their legs (or whatever is extending) in the lap of the passenger sitting next to them. And pity the poor person with an overactive bladder. They’re always the ones that choose a window seat so they can climb over everybody. I’ve never seen one sit in an aisle seat. Invariably the drink cart is in the way of these frantic passengers trying to make it to the “unoccupied” sign before it changes to “occupied. ” They stand waiting in the aisle while the attendant serves at least three more rows before they begin stepping over passengers sitting in aisle seats, to get to the magic door.
The question is, how are they going to configure the plane without messing with the First Class section, which everyone knows is sacred space. Few of us really know what goes on in the front of the plane once that blue curtain is pulled. We know the people in those seats are either retired congressman, business executives and their wives on an expense account, vacationing traffic controllers, NFL players or someone on the way to appear on the Oprah show. Passengers in Economy, Super Saver and Frequest Flyer seats fantasize about what goes on once that curtain is snapped shut. They think the flights are shorter, luggage is never lost, the flight attendants are better looking, the bathrooms are large enough to stand upright in when you shut the door and there’s so much extra space a person can recline his seat without embedding the snack table tray into the stomach of the passenger behind him.
What the airlines can’t seem to fix are the arrival and departure schedules. Late arrivals are a given anymore and even if your plane is on time, you’re arrived too late at a terminal on the other side of the airport, to make it to your connecting plane. There are a number of standard excuses for these delayed flights. “We seem to be missing a crew. They arrived late last night and haven’t rested the required time between flights.” (why don’t they just say they’re sitting in the wrong plane somewhere) Then there’s the one that always makes you feel more secure: “We’re missing a part and can’t close the luggage door but we’re checking around to see if we can find one.” (are they going to remove it from another plane and will another plane borrow one of your parts before you can take off?) or the old standby, “We were waiting for late-arriving baggage.” (That one would shame Pinocheo)
And then there is the security issue. Everyone knows the first place a terrorist thinks of to hide his gun is in the sole of his shoe. Removing shoes in a security check in line can be traumatic for some passengers, especially women. For one thing most of them are wearing a pair that are a size too small and once they take those babies off, there’s no getting them back on. I’ve seen people miss their flight because they are sitting there trying to squeeze their feet back into the shoes. I haven’t heard a pilot use that one for an excuse yet. “We’re waitinig on a few passengers who are having trouble squeezing their feet back into their shoes,’ would you please check and be sure you are wearing the shoes you left home with.”
Obviously we put up with and forgive airlines for anything just so we can climb on board and fly again when we need to.
THE BOTTOM LINE: Have you ever seen a hotel courtesy van waiting to pick up a guest at a bus terminal?
BLOGGING IS FUN IF YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING – AT LEAST SOME OF THE TIME
I’m sure most of you encounter unexplainable problems with your computer from time to time. UNLESS you are a computer Geek. You know, they are those fellows who drive little bugs around town with the signs on top. I’m not sure they know all that much but I understand it beats delivering pizzas.
I’m really going out on a limb to write this blog because sometimes a computer’s memory works, and heaven knows I need to stay on the good side of this one.
I’m positive computers are of the male gender - come on – women are much more dependable and you can reason with them. That being said, I need to mention that I have named my computer Marvin. I have only struck him twice (both times in the side – you know what new monitors cost). But, wouldn’t you know, the blows upset the printer so much it coughed out 42 blank pages without stopping. Which brings us to my printer whose name I don’t care to mention. Talk about tempermental. I have unplugged and replugged this machine so many times I’ve about worn out the switch. Copies only roll out in the dead of night when I no longer need them. Come daylight, this little piece of work shuts down. I would give it a good whack but it would probably upset Marvin so much he would forget my password.
Occasionally Marvin and I have a good day. He starts when he’s supposed to and let’s me log onto my e-mail and send two or three messages. That’s about it. The next thing I know he informs me my system is overloaded, which I know darn well can’t be true. I called the paper’s tech guys once and asked for their help. Big mistake. Unless you can walk the walk and talk the talk with these guys, forget it. They don’t know terms like ”dohickey on the left,” or that “spot just below the red button.” Instead they’ll have you delete everything in your baskets , including some I never heard of, take the trash out from under your desk, empty the dishwasher, and end with “if that doesn’t work, don’t call us, we’ll call you.”
Blogging is a whole different hi tech field. Learning to blog is like learning to ride a bicycle. You have to first put one together, then learn to ride it so you can fall off and hurt your pride, then pick yourself up and do it all over again. Eventually you catch on. But it takes some of us longer than others.
Certainly I was given explicit instructions. My instructor even drew a map leading from the front door to my home office desk , then to Marvin’s “on”’ switch.
Piece of cake, I only got lost twice. But when it came to moving party pictures from my basket onto my blog, things didn’t go as smoothly. Even as we speak my screen saver is a party picture of three guys at a golf tournament awards banquet. How did they end up on my screen when I was moving them to my blog – I HAVE NO IDEA. Everytime I turn Marvin on (don’t say it) they fill the screen, stay on a few minutes and then disappear. I tried for days to move those guys onto my blog. They appeared twice in my e-mails and finally on my bathroom mirror. (I’m not about to tell my “blog master” about that, he might suggest I need a Geek keeper. Or worse, ask how they got there in the first place.)
Actually, they look kind of nice as a screen saver, and we’ve bonded. The guys are clean, have on sporty dress jackets and all three are wearing big smiles.
I’m not going to get too attached though, they could disappear any time . It wouldn’t surprise me if they traveled through cybro space and ended up on my television screen.
Wouldn’t that be the pits.
NOTES FROM MY SUNDAY COLUMN, THE SOCIAL SCENE…
Dancing for a Miracle, a fundraiser for Children’s Medical Research Institute, an affiliate of Children’s Miracle Network, raised $44,806. Looking as if they had just stepped off the popular “Dancing With The Stars,” TV show, Oklahoma City Yard Dawgz football player Andre Burns, KMGL-FM104.1 radio personality Shawn Carey, KFOR-reporter Scott Hines, Miss Oklahoma Rodeo 2008 Kristen Killion, David Stanley Chevrolet’s Rob Stanlay and Oklaoma Energy Resources Board Executive Director Mindy Stitt (defending title holder) were paired with professional dancers to compete for the title of Children’s Miracle Network Dancing For the Kids Star 2009. Guests indicated contributions to the institute as they voted for their favorite team. Hines and professional dancer April Glunt were the winners, raising $6,359. The combined dance couples raised $19,101.
Landi Thompson was event chairman and honorary chairmen were former Gov. Frank Keating and his wife, Cathy.
April Glunt and Scott Hines
IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS THAT COUNT IN A WEDDING-MINTS, NUTS AND THE MOTHER-OF-THE-BRIDE
Hello, glad you stopped by. Since June and July are traditionally the months for weddings, here is a tongue-in-cheek account of one of my daughter’s weddings. Just funning you, but it could have happened this way.
Nothing is more leftover the day after a wedding than the mother-of-the bride. It’s easy to throw away the stale nuts, freeze the leftover cake and take the out-of-town guests to the airport. But what do you do with the bride’s mother?
It was difficult for me to accept that I wouldn’t be needed on the honeymoon since I had been organizing everybody and everything since the day after my daughter’s engagement was announced.
By the first afternoon I had the minister, organist, vocalist and size of the boutonnieres nailed down. I then reserved the church, the club, florist, baby’s breath, mints and corsage pints. The only thing I failed to get an estimate on was the rice for the net bags.
I began keeping a card file in a shoe box for the guest list. I carried it under my arm everywhere I went. If I ran into anyone in the grocery store or parking lot who spoke to me, I quickly flipped the top off my 6 1/2 AA box and made a note of the name. That way we scored extra points for the bride’s side, managing to produce a list longer than the groom’s.
Things really began to get tricky when I had to come up with an estimated number of people who might come, should come, probably wouldn’t come, or, on second thought, might come after all, to the wedding reception.
Desperate, I worked out a foolproof number. I divided the number of invitations mailed by half; to each hundred I added the bride’s age and rounded it off to the nearest twenty-five. From this I subtracted the total. Worked like a charm.
I bought a stunning mother-of-the-bride dress embellished with plumes, seed pearls and a built-in bra, and a simple little white bridal gown for my daughter. I then sent over a sealed envelope to the groom’s mother with my dress color enclosed and instructions for her to choose a becoming shade of beige. (I might add here that it is important to stay in control. If you let your guard down for a minute, the groom’s mother will be walking down the aisle in a red dress and her sister’s twins wil be upstaging the bride.)
The bridal parties almost proved to be my undoing. I became haggard and preoccupied trying to remember who all our friends were so I’d have enough guest names to attend all the parties. I had to include the car pool mothers since first grade and throw in my dentist’s receptionist before I came up with a respectable number. Some of them were less than, respectable that is, but you do the best you can with what you have.
At this point I began to get so uptight I went to one luncheon and forgot and left the bride home. It only happened the one time. It wasn’t the kind of mistake you care to make twice. Bridal hysteria is deafening.
Painstakingly I block-printed all the wedding information for the newspaper. When it appeared in print the shower hostesses were listed as bridesmaids and the groom’s father as an out-of-town guest.
About this time I began to get hung up on little things, like, how long the ribbon should be on the bouquets, what color pens to use for the guest book and whether or not to weary tummy control panty hose.
By the time I got all this resolved, I began to zone out. I’d find myself in the grocery store standing before the produce counter for an hour, unable to decide on a head of lettuce. Customers complained, so the manager finally picked one up and dropped it in my basket. I was so grateful I wept. I sent him an invitation too.
Deciding on the quantity of servings for the reception is a mind boggler. The burning question is – are they punch or champagne drinkers? About a fourth of the guests skip the receiving line and head straight for the finger sandwiches and punch, then whine when they have to wait for the wedding cake to be cut. The other three-fourths stand around hacking a 50 lb. block of cheese to death while guzzling champagne. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, the first group doesn’t catch on to what the other three-fourths are drinking. Usually this slow group is from the groom’s side of the family.
When the wedding day finally arrived, it did not go exactly as planned, or even wildly imagined.
The florist called at noon and asked if we wanted to use candles in the candelabras because she was running short, the organist called at 5:30 p.m. and said she had broken her toe but not to worry she would fake the footwork. Then the custodian reported there was a leak in the roof and asked what color drip buckets should he use.
An hour before the wedding the bride took the rollers out of her hair and ONE SIDE DIDN’T CURL!
But, the wedding was lovely and every minute of it was documented thanks to a very expensive photographer, who, by the way, was a piece of work. This man took a picture of everyone he could get to stand upright. He even got a group picture of the minister, florist, organist and custodian.
The only thing he missed was the bride’s father scribbling on his cuff. The man was frantically dividing the wedding costs by the number of minutes the ceremony lasted. As if that mattered.
Dan Dedonne, Christy Counts, Don Bobzien and Steve Bentley play in the Central Oklahoma Humane Society benefit tourney.
The Central Oklahoma Humane Society Golf Tournament was played at Quail Creek Golf and Country Club. More than a hundred golf enthusists and animal lovers participated. Lunch was served both days of play and an awards dinner was held at the conclusion of the tournament.
Christy Counts is Executive Director, Don Bobzien is a board member and Steve Bentley is board president. Don Ledonne was one of many volunteers who played in the golf tournament.
Backyard Chefs Take Themselves Seriously
With Father’s Day just around the corner, this little tongue -in -cheek is a tribute to all those wannabe weekend cookout chefs running loose in the backyard dragging 20 pound sacks of charcoal over to a grill.
All it takes to bring out the Neaderthal in these guys is a shiny new grill.
Just let the weather turn warm and you can spot these charcoal wonders everywhere you look. They are either standing hunched over a grill or kneeling before a habachi with dark puffs of smoke billowing over their heads.
Their cooking utensils consist of ice-tong spatulas, bent coat hanger forks, salt and pepper shakers balanced on garbage can lids and a large can of bug spray. Their aprons have slogans that read “Burned is Beautiful,” Watch My Smoke,” and “I Cook For Food.”
They all have their idiosyncracies. Take the hamburger whiz. This poor fellow can’t cook a burger without letting it slip through the grill. Once he flips the burger over, you never see it again. The only clue is a faint sizzle down in the coals.
Even worse is the chef who doesn’t know when to light the charcoal. Either he starts it an hour too soon and the coals burn themselves out before anyone arrives, or he waits so long to finally light the charcoal the guests have turned ugly and the baked potatoes have been reduced to dust in the oven.
Equally pathetic is the poor guy, who, no matter what he tries, can’t get the charcoal to burn. He spends the evening fanning the coals, pouring lighter fluid or rearranging the coals in little piles. (His wife doesn’t even bother to take the steaks out of the freezer, she knows it’s not going to happen)
It’s best not to expect too much when these special order cooks ask how you want you meat cooked. The steaks will be overcooked and the grilled chicken undercooked to a pale shade of pink. Count on it.
These guys can get more fired up than the grill once they make up their minds to charcoal, barbecue, grill or whatever, no matter what the weather. Come hell or wet charcoal, these cooks are going to fire up the coals and throw something on the grill!
Tom McDaniel, Janet Jenkins, David Rainbolt
Tom McDaniel, Jane Jenkins and David Rainbolt were among the guests at the 23rd Annual Dean A. McGee Awards sponsored by Downtown Oklahoma City at the Skirvin Hilton hotel. Honored for their work in Oklahoma City, James A. Pickel received the Dean A. McGee Award for Lifetime of Excellence, Catherine O’Conner was given the Stanely Draper Award for Community Excellence and the Oklahoma Heritage Associaation was presented the Neal Horton Award for Renaissance in the area. Jim Brewer received special recognition. Jim Couch and Meg Salyer were co-chairmen.
Personally I Like Jack Spratt’s Wife
Hello, glad you stopped by. Let’s talk dieting.
Everytime you pick up a magazine the slick-looking picture on the front is always the same. A bone-thin woman consumed by happiness because she just dropped fifty pounds and can no longer fit into a pair of pants that would hold a small village.
Get real. I’ve never met such a woman. The women I know aren’t into ACTUALLY losing pounds, they’re just “toning up” so their panty hose won’t constrict. They could care less who starves on Jenny Craig’s diet to get back into a string bikini after 20 years of sitting on the beach in a coverup.
We all know these women eventually gain it back. Besides, who wants to wear a bikini when you’re 75? It’s not likely anyone’s going to ask you to a pool party.
It wouldn’t be so bad if dieters would just go ahead and do their thing and not have to share it with everybody. Women are either talking about the diet they have just been on, the one they are suffering through, or one they are going to start next week. Which simply means. They lost five pounds on their last diet, rewarded themselves by overeating and gained back the pounds they lost and now are looking for a diet to help them take off the extra ten pounds they gained back. (you might want to read that last sentence again )
Which makes me wonder. Has anyone ever conducted a survey to determine just what size women men prefer?
It could be that all the hype directed toward thunder thighs, Jack Spratt’s wife, and nice little rounded mothers of three, is totally wasted.
Nowhere is it written that thin women are sexy.
Men would do well to read the dieting ads themselves. As macho as they all are, (the men not the ads) potbellied men who suffer from ingrowing waist bands are not a pretty sight and their swimsuits could get them arrested for indecent exposure.
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Moving on to some tidbits from The Social Scene, my Sunday column.
United Way Donors Party
Susan and Carl Edwards, Nancy and Bob Ellis and Ed Martin attend a United Way Top Donors Celebration at Coles Garden. The invitation-only reception honored United Way donors who contributed $500 and more in 2008. Guests were invited to wear black and white attire and the black and white theme also was reflected on the menu.
Close to 400 guests attended.
Continuing on a monetary note, a recent two-day fundraiser “A Vintage Affair,” which was truly a fine wine tasting experience both evenings, raised close to $160,000 for the Chilren’s Hospital Foundation and Oklahoma Health Center Foundation.
Closet Life Of A Coat Hanger
On the subject of coat hangers, or the lack thereof…
My neighbor is forever complaining about her coat hangers prolificating and how much trouble it is to keep throwing the extra ones away. (And I thought the only swinging place for hangers was at the dry cleaners!)She even admitted to slipping up on her hangers to catch them in the act, but after putting the closet door back on the runner the third time, her husband unscrewed the light bulb.
Duh. I never suspected the few in my closet of doing anything more than stealing a belt or two off my better dresses or indulging in a little mothball sniffing. Just goes to show. But, then, why should I? Every time I open the closet door I see the same old tired group hanging there with the empties sulking in the corner or hiding between the dresses.
Old age could have something to do with it (theirs, not mine). Some of my hangers sag so badly they can’t even hold their pants up anymore. Others have clothes hanging on them completely unbuttoned, shoulders stretched out and their paper ripped off.
A few toward the back of the closet look as if they might have attempted something but nothing worked out. (An aborted orgy? Naw..) They’ve been frozen in the same position, hanging upside down, interlocked with each other, for as long as I can remember.
I tried livening things up with a little stimulus. Soft music, clinging sensuous fabrics – I even hung one of my suitcase hangers in with the group. It was clean, flexible, well-traveled, but nothing happened.
Now that I know what’s NOT going on in my closet I try and keep it hidden.
But people are talking. Why else would I offer two hangers for six coats when guests come over?
