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?
Mother’s Day Can Be Wearing
Hello, glad you could stop by. With Mother’s Day coming up in a couple of weeks, I thought I would pass along some fun thoughts about this special day – as I remember them from the past.
Celebrating Mother’s Day is a good thing. But, like Christmas, New Year’s Eve and anniversaries, things don’t always fall together as they should.
Mother’s Day is wearing. Some mothers can’t sustain “wonderfulness” longer than two or three hours at the most. So, timing is important. Mothers need to open their gifts early and move right on to brunch before someone gets cross and loses the spirit of the occasion.
For some mothers, the day can be overwhelming. It is frightening to wake up one Sunday morning in May and find your “mom act” has become an overnight success when you’ve just spent the last 364 days living in obscurity (car pools, or whereever,) struggling to be recognized, spoken to, loved, cherished or acknowledged in some little way.
Fortunately, mothers are easy – they rarely ever bear grudges and they adjust quickly to adulation.
There are, however, a few Mother’s Day gestures that they could live without, and since most mothers are too saintly to mention them to their families – I will.
1) Don’t even think about a corsage must less send her one. A dozen red roses wouldn’t be too shabby.
2) Don’t serve her pancakes and syrup in bed on a warped tray.
3) Don’t take her out to eat in a restaurant where she has to stand in a line that wraps around two city blocks, (she will gladly forfeit the free geranium.)
4) Don’t take her picture before she is ready.
5) Don’t give her a monogrammed grass catcher, sweat bands that fade, another punch bowl, candy that costs more than her shoes, licorice-scented soap, a whistling coffee pot, an umbrella smarter than she is, scented hose, jumper cables, an awning for the bird feeder, snow tires or anything digital named after a fruit.
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Movinig on to some behind the scenes tidbits not mentioned in my weekly SOCIAL SCENE Sunday column.
The 2009 Symphony Show House at 431 NW 17th Street, which runs through May 17, is sponsored by the Oklahoma City Orchestra League and benefits the Music Education Programs and the Oklahoma City Philharmonic Orchestra.
Currently the house, which is for sale, is owned by John and Denise Bode. Former owners include Walter D. Caldwell who built the house in 1918, E. W. Marland, Mr. and Mrs. William Veazey, Mr. and Mrs. Grant Pengilly, Mr. and Mrs. Kee McKee, Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Trosper, Mr. and Mrs. George Bettis, Mr. and Mrs. Byron Dawson and Dr. and Mrs. Grover Harrison.
The Show House Gala heralding the opening of the home, was held in the Great Banking Hall at First National Center last week. Since the house was built in the era of Prohibition, the evening was themed around that period with the drinks, food and music.
Underwriters of the evening were Michael and Amy Dunn, Jose Freede, Dick and Jeanette Sias-Joullian Wines and Glenna and Richard Tanenbaum.
Benefactors were LaDonna and Herman Meinders.
Sponsors were BancFirst, Ralph L. Harvey, Molly and Jim Crawley, Polly and Larry Nichols and Paul and Debby Dudman – Sterling Wines and Spirits.
First Gentleman
Hello. Glad you could stop by. Hope this read brightens your day.
As I see it, the biggest question facing our nation on down the line, is whether or not we ’re ready to accept a “First Gentleman” in the White House (and if he’s not a gentleman, then what?)
Sooner or later some smart women is going to surface, (whose husband thought she was running for City Council just so she could push through a campaign to replace the old seats on the park swings,) and get herself elected President. Boy will her husband be in for a surprise the first time he goes with the boys for a night out and finds they’re her Secret Service agents.
Just getting a husband through his wife’s inauguration would be a toughie. If her swearing in ceremony takes more than eight minutes, he’ll start checking his text messages or looking around for the nearest TV.
Chances are he’ll forget to get a haircut the day before the inaugural ball, and, if someone doesn’t check him out, he’ll show up wearing his tuxedo with pair of brown shoes.
Can you imagine the First Gentleman offering to plan the state dinners for visiting foreign dignitaries. Heaven help ‘em if he decides to cook out. By the time he finally gets the coals to burn, diplomatic relations could be broken off forever and half the cabinet members laid out cold under the picnic tables, stoned on bug spray.
Or, if he decides to use the formal dining room, I can see the duck decoy centerpieces and napkins stuck in empty shot gun shells, sitting by the dinner plates. You know what the seating arrangements will be. The men will be sitting at tables on one end of the room and the women at the other. And, when he picks up the salt shaker and finds it empty, you know who he’ll blame for that oversight - THE PRESIDENT.
Of course he’ll need a social secretary. Hopefully no one named “Trixie.” If she shows up, the President might have to intercede and assign a driver from the army motor pool.
Somebody will have to help him with his clothes. Color coordinate his ties with his shirts, his shoelaces with his shoes and suggest (suggest nothing, they’ll have to come right out and tell him,) he can no longer be seen standing on the helicopter pad wearing a “Doug’s Barbecue” bowling shirt.
Press interviews could be tricky too. A good PR man should be by his side at all times. The first time the President’s husband goes into a press conference and mentions his wife’s age, the name of her hormones, her inability to balance a checkbook, or her hair color, he’s going to find his clothes moved permanently into the Lincoln bedroom (and how, I wonder, would the press secretary explain THAT to the little old ladies from Peoria.)
You’ll see a few changes made on the grounds of the mansion, too. Hammocks in the rose garden, railroad tires outlining the flower beds, a trout pond on the east lawn and a spiget with a spray hose installed under the North Portico for the first gentleman’s convenience when he washes and hot waxes his A C Cobra.
Looking on the bright side. Having a First Gentleman in the white House could mean a sign of progress.
Think about it. When would a woman ever have this much power to shame her husband into sleeping in pajamas!
Co-chairmen David and Jane Thompson and sponsor party hosts Suzie and Stan Hupfeld.
Fundraiser events come in all sizes and shapes. One of the really fun ones recently which drew a crowd of more than 450 at Oklahoma City Golf and Country Club, was the Integris Foundations Circle of Friends Gala. A 50th anniversary celebration of Integris Baptist Medical Center, the party bash featured Jim Belushi (yes, brother of the deceased John Belushi,) and The Sacred Hearts.
Belushi energized the crowd, dancing with guests on the dance floor and enticing others onstage to dance with him. The crowd was singing along and boogeying to the beat, but the floor was so crowded they couldn’t do much more than dance in place. Some of the crowd even formed congo lines. Needless to say it was a stellar evening for many reasons.
Young dancers from Western Village Academy performed, bringing a standing ovation from the crowd.
This 50th anniversary celeration raised $318,000. Integris Baptist Medical Center (formerly known s Baptist Hospital) was first considered the “hospital on the hill’ when it opened its doors on Easter Sunday 1959 as a 200-bed hospital. It was the vision of the leaders of the Baptist General Convention of Oklahoma to bring a Baptist hospital to the state’s capital city. Back then, open prairie and few home surrounded the new hospital.
The Gala Committee was composed of Sherry Bennett, Marilyn Bethea, Peggy Collins, Judith Duffy, Fran Grounds, Norma Harris, Laurie Heigle, Margaret Henry, Cheryl Hewett, Lori Hill, Sally Hood, Lynn Horton, Suzie Hupfeld, Barbara Jett, Jenny Kallenberger, Donna Lawrence, Elaine Levy, Ursula Lewis, Tami Loch, Mary Pat Love, Patti Mellow, Donna Parker, Beth Pauchnik, Rebecca Perkins, Lois Salmeron, Amelia Silverstein, Karen Swyden, Alison Taylor, Jane Thompson and Kathi White.
CELL PHONE-ITIS
Hello! Thanks for stopping by for a little fun read.
Forget the body piercings, tattoos and spiky hair dos. It’s the cell phones that are driving me crazy. You know, the appendages growing out of everyone’s ears that come in psychedelic colors and glow in the dark.
I’m surprised we don’t see more cell phone rage. Like the passengers on an airline who grabbed a man’s cell phone and took turns stomping it to death.
The last time I missed a flight and had to take up temporary residence in a terminal, I sat next to one of these obsessive cell talkers who was graphically explaining how a truckload of cow manure was delayed and had gotten too warm sitting in the sun. I wanted to reach over and jerk his ear plug out and lace the cord through the eyes of his shoe.
Some of these electronic compulsives are so out of control they no longer live in the real world. I, for one, don’t believe some of these nerds actually have someone on the other end of the line. Think about it, how many friends can they have? Their phone activity is non stop and they don’t even take time to change clothes.
Just the other day I spotted a window washer twelve stories up holding a cell phone to his ear. Okay, I had binoculars, but I saw him.
Some of the worst offenders hang out in restaurants. The wife is on the phone telling someone about a shoe sale while her husband just sits there like a dummy waiting on the food to be served.
Then there are the cell shouters. All their friends have a hearing problem. If you’re seated next to one you might as well ask to be moved to another table because it doesn’t get any better.
Rest rooms are no longer private either. There is nothing more embarrassing than answering someone in the next stall before you realize they’re not talking to you – they’re talking on the phone! Admit it. You’ve answered at least one of ‘em.
Grocery shoppers are the pathetic ones. Men no longer trust their grocery lists. You see them on the phone as they wander down the aisles calling out the brand names on all the cans. By the time they reach the cantaloupes their insecurity kicks into overdirve. Their spouses try to step them through the squeeze, smell routine but they don’t have a clue what a fresh one looks like. So they move on to the mangos and go through the whole routine again.
Drivers have to be the most annoying. If you’re stopped behind one of these compulsive talkers at a stop light, you can count on sitting through at least three light changes before the driver looks up and notices the light has turned green.
Surely there is a way to stop this onslaught of phone verbiage.
The media could put the word out that cell phones cause male baldness.
As for the women, CELLULITE would be a good buzz word.
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Last week was a busy one for fund raising events. Early figures indicate they were successful, which goes to prove Oklahoma City’s philanthropy is alive and well.
Here are a couple of examples:
Oklahoma City Beautiful’s 26th Distnguished Service Awards Luncheon netted approximately $45,000. The event recognizes those in the community that help make Oklahoma City beautiful through various types of beautification and community improvement projects.
The First Ladies Gala benefit for the Oklahoma Medical Research Foundation raised a net total of approximately $230.000.
First Ladies Kim Henry, Cathy Keating, Rhonda Walters, Donna Nigh, Molly Boren and Ann Bartlett hosted the black-tie event at the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum.
Smile, You’re On Camera
I’m not one to knock our government. Keeping track of the trillions of dollars pouring into every bank and car dealership behind on their water bill , has to be a headache. Just keeping the debits and credits straight with CEO’s all over the place writing checks and forgetting to put the amounts down, would be a challenge . But, it does seem to me that with all those sacks of money sitting around, a a few dollars could be eked out from someplace (maybe a smidgen borrowed from the post office sponge moistener fund,) to buy some decent cameras for the Department of Motor Vehicles.
These cameras have to be bought in gross lots. Obviously the better ones are routed over to the Department of Corrections. Which is a waste because I understand the folks over there aren’t a bit picky about what their mug shots look like. In fact, they would prefer them a little out of focus.
Some of the problem could be the operators’ camera training. I don’t know which photography school the government is funding, but apparently the only Lens Focusing class they offer is “Close Up And Ugly.”
I’ve tried on some of my better birthday years to spiff mysef up before having my driver’s license picture taken. New haircut, lip gloss, Vaseline on the teeth, a hint of smile…but the picture is always the same. My face still comes out looking like I’m hung over from last year.
Can you image what some sharp young politician could do with a situation like this. All he has to do is promise “a pretty picture in every woman’s purse.” It’s a whole lot catchier than “a chicken in every pot,” and look how that slogan took off.
Fundraisers would kick into overdrive. Women would mortgage their husbands to put this guy in office.
Just envision what it would be like to flip open your photo I.D. when you’re stopped for speeding, and have the officer wolf whistle at your license picture.
In no time, women would start flashing their license I.D. in every checkout line whether anyone cared or not.
There’s just one problem. Someone needs to figure out how to color code the “date of birth.”
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(from left to right) Mike McAuliffe , Glenna Tanenbaum, Lucy Cheatwood and John Ederer
That being said I would like to share some little known facts about this year’s Heritage Hills Symphony Show House, located at 431 NW 17th and sponsored by the Oklahoma City Orchestra League.
For starters, it is the only house in Heritage Hills that has served as a Governor’s Mansion. When Jack Walton became Governor in 1922 there was no mansion for him to live in so he asked supporters to buy the house on 17th Street. E.W. Marland stepped up to the bat and bought the house for him .While serving as governor, Walton managed to irk the Ku Klux Klan who paid him a visit and burned a cross beneath a flagpole in the front yard, partially burning the American flag.
Then in 1923, Walton was impeached and removed from office.
When you view the house which will be open April 26 through May 17th, be sure and note that the flag and Walton’s briefcase have been kept in the house.
