Sex and the City

In a theater full of women, there was one lone man: bold, courageous, strong, manly man with his beautiful girlfriend.

Overheard by all:

Carrie Bradshaw: Big, am I becoming one of those nagging wives?

Lone Man: Dude, do not answer that question.

Biggest laugh of the movie!

Wally World Party On Excellent

You simply cannot make up the stuff you see and hear at Wal-Mart. When I am feeling down and need a quick pick me up, I head over to the White Settlement Wal-Mart. Everything about my life feels good afterwards. BTW, that is a Texas flag in the store and not a Confederate flag in case some of my Yankee friends were wondering. So yes, this woman was (way) older than me and was a walking piece of tattoo art. Hmmmm...first pick me up. Then I stood in line for a money order because believe it or not, there are institutions that only want a money order - no check. no cash. no debit card. no credit card. For this you must stand in line at Wal-Mart, like the lady in front of me who waited (this is no exageration) about 20 minutes, with her teenage son who was WAY MORE PATIENT than mine ever could have been, to get her 20 cent coupon (no lie) refunded because the check out person had forgotten it and there was "no way she was getting ripped off by Wal-Mart". Is 20 minutes in the Wal-Mart service desk line really worth 20 cents? I would have given her 50 cents for the show...maybe even a dollar.

And while I am thinking about all the garden spots I have been to lately, and overheard conversations: there is the Sonic incident (ice cream for Lili and unsweetened tea for me!) - where the very large man very loudly ordered the buy one get one free Hamburgers with "absolutely no vegetable matter on them. No pickles, no lettuce, no tomatoe - do not even put Ketchup on it either because it is vegetable matter. Mayonaisse instead....Got it?" JAMIE OLIVER WHERE ARE YOU?

Color inside the lines

Yes, this is my child...William...Willy...Willster...Williard. Yes, he is anything but conventional and has taken me down some eye opening roads. No I do not approve of the tattoos. And yes, he is the very different identical twin to my other son Richie. Willy is pictured here with his 2 year old daughter...apparently all the twisted paths lead to her! Today we spent the day doing ordinary things including coloring. As Willy and Lili colored together, I overheard him tell her how to COLOR INSIDE THE LINES. WHAT???!!! The boy who has been coloring outside of the lines for all of his life - the boy whose favorite food in Kindergarten was Mango while everyone else's was Pizza or Mac N. Cheese...whose favorites songs as a toddler were "I'm Bad", "Burning Down the House" and "Bad Bad Boys Make me feel so good." I could hardly believe my ears which got me to thinking... When do we get squished into these little boxes? Does parenting make us safe..make us conventional...make us suck the creative life force out of ourselves and our children?

Secretly, I'm hoping that Lili will color outside of the lines...well maybe not as far as her daddy.

Girls vs. Boys Birthday Lunch Out

My business takes me to interesting places and interesting experiences. I would like to blog about them sometime but you can't slap the hand that feeds you. All Ears had the unique experience recently to have her own birthday lunch with the girls, head east to work and then crash a birthday lunch with the men (the short version: in LA the state not the city, Need to find a locals place, get directed to one that is a dive with tasty food, had to share the picnic table with the group of birthday celebrating men of a certain age). Girls lunch conversation: the kids, the grandkids, kids sports, new jewelry, travels...Boys lunch conversation: boobs, beer, "little man" (which I'm assuming/hoping was his son), golf, boobs, young girls, alligator eyes, boobs, fishing, boats which kind of sounded like a mine is bigger than yours converation and more boobs. It was so much fun listening in - of course it could have been because of the at least three rounds of Bud schooners they had. BONUS - when they realized I was listening in, they called me out on it and offered to buy me a beer!!

There's this great mystery between the sexes - when women are alone what do we talk about? When men are alone what do they talk about? Are we really that different? My summation: we're not all that different. Men like boobs. We have them.

All ears - GEMS

Here, there and everywhere....some favorite OVERHEARDS:

Grabbing breakfast at LaMadeline:
Little Boy: Mom, what's an open house?
MOM: It's a time when people who might want to buy your house come to see if they will like your house.
Little Boy: Then why do we have to leave? I like our house already.

At the airport - group of girls:
Girl 1: OK, now remember what happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas.
Girl 2: No. STDs and Babies go home with you. They do not stay in Vegas so no nasty girl shennanigans.


At the resort pool - group of kids playing volleyball:
Young Girl Running Back into the Game: "Coming Back Fresh!"
(we have adopted this as our own mantra on many occasions)

OK - this is a seen and not a heard but seen on a T-shirt:
You had me at Hell No.

As usual, keeping my ears open for more shareable gems...seen here with my partner in crime Kathy.... SHAKE AND BAKE! I'm sure people hear some of the stupid stuff we say (especially after a few glasses of wine) and have some good laughs too.

Scenes from the Sammons Cancer Center

I'll never forget the first time I walked through the doors of the Sammons Cancer Center to have a "screening mammogram" and meet my new on again/off again boyfriend, Dr. Michael Grant (although I have shared him with others, I know that he loves my boobies best! And you would think that since he uttered those three little words to me 8 years ago "you have cancer" that I would be so over him but I'm not! He is easy on the eye and a great bedside manner). The first time I walked through those doors and saw all the cancer patients I thought "this is so NOT ME." I am healthy. Young. Fit. Charming. Witty. Bright. With a full mane of curly hair. NOT A CANCER PATIENT.

Eight years later, an upgraded screening facility and a brand spanking new office bring back the same old memories. But I'm an old hand now. I know this IS ME. Although I could be on the once a year plan, I go every 6 months. Mostly to assure myself that I'm the One That Dr. Grant Wants and partially JUST TO BE SURE! As the years since diagnosis get further and further apart, I find myself listening more to the women around me. Watching closely for the signs that someone might need reassurance that Dr. Grant is the best and yes, I'm willing to share him with you. Or the ones who need to know that no hair days really do turn into bad hair days faster than you thought.

The Mammogram staging area is quite the interesting place. It's divided by the haves and the have nots. Those that have/had breast cancer go to the express lane. It's a new system designed to qive you, the frequent visitor, quick results so you're not fretting in the waiting room wondering if the initial nightmare of a bad mammo is happening AGAIN. Heard this time by a fellow fast laner: Something was wrong with the films and I have to do it all over again. Translation: Something might be wrong with me. I have to do it all over again. The look of panic overtakes the words. We strike up a conversation because I know the conversation in her head.

After the mammo is CLEAR - YAY ME - with their eyes the fast laners congratulate me and I then get ushered over for the highlight of the day: Feel up time by Dr. Grant with a Grey's Anatomy-like too young to be a doctor Intern (usually female ) watching (talk about a killjoy!). Dr. Grant is the best. He can make a surgical incision that will leave your real boyfriend searching for days to find it. His office has a clear separation of newbies and been there done thats. You can see it in their eyes. You can tell by the entourage that they have or do not have with them. You can tell by their whispered voices and worried looks or big old smiles.

Overheard by his office personnel about a new patient "She is really freaking out and is insisting to see the doctor now." NO SHIT. Let her take my appointment...because hearing those three words "YOU HAVE CANCER," even by a McSteamy, McDreamy, Worldclass breast surgeon is not what you EVER WANT TO HEAR.

Pictured here with me, my friend G who I let BORROW DR. GRANT....listening to the sweet sound of survivors at Komen Dallas Race for the Cure last year.

Sister Mary-Don't-Waddle-Down-the Aisle-Or-else...

I never quite understood why my parents insisted on us going to the Catholic church after their own near misses - Mom, who learned to be ambidextrious because the nuns at Catholic school hit her on the knuckles with a ruler for being left handed (which later proved to be a good thing in sports she excelled in such as golf, tennis and bowling)or Dad, who narrowly escaped becoming a priest or actually living after having to drive the priests around when he could barely see over the dashboard.

But off to CCD (Catholic Christian Doctrine?) and public school we went (a concession I'm sure)...where we dutifully did the sacraments. The CCD halls were a pretty interesting place to hear but not be heard, because that was back in the day where they believed that children should be seen but not heard. At the ripe old age of 8, I prepared to make my first holy communion. This came with really cool accessories plus a dress and veil that made you feel like you were getting married. And presents like little patent leather purses, and rosaries to assist you with your Neco Wafer Communion playdates. It also came with the first experience with the really scarey nuns. I remember bounding up 3000 steps and whipping that door open to make it to my class on time, only to be held back by a slow nun behind me who expected me to open the door and wait for her to go through first. Even though I was late. I think I have suffered from whiplash ever since.

Those of us who did the Catholic thing back in the day surely remember preparing for first holy communion as it was right up there as it was a prequel to wedding planning that should be happening about 9 years later because the Church did not believe in birth control. I remember this preparation being full of veiled threats: you MUST NOT bite the wafer - it had to dissolve even though it would stick to the roof of your mouth for like 3 hours; you MUST CROSS YOUR THUMBS in the sign of the cross when you clasped your hands together in prayer; and WHATEVER YOU DO - DO NOT WADDLE DOWN THE AISLE. WADDLING DOWN THE AISLE WILL RESULT ON YOU BEING YANKED OUT OF FIRST HOLY COMMUNION LINE in front of God and your parents.

For the life of me, at 8, I had no idea what waddling was and I was too afraid to ask. I just prayed with my clasped hands and crossed thumbs that Sister Anti-Waddle would not pull me out of the line. I must confess these early days at CCD were the beginnings of listening intently - too afraid of what might happen if I didn't.

But we'll save confession for another post!

This will change your life

Had to hijack this one from my niece Shaz...very funny
http://roanoke.craigslist.org/fuo/1666393436.html

SELECT_____________________ (fill in the blank)

When my twin boys were the ripe old age of about 9, ALL EARS started hearing about what "amazing soccer talent" they were. They could juggle that soccer ball hundreds of times; their short stature allowed them to have a low center of gravity and sneak around guys twice their size and BONUS! they were able to do that "twin thing" on the field. YEP, they were SELECT SOCCER MATERIAL. Parents of young children, always trust your instincts because my instincts told me this was mighty silly TO PAY, THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS, and spend countless hours, kicking a little ball around. But somewhere there was a pot o'goal - select soccer assured they could play high school soccer, could qualify for scholarships and of course, keep them occupied and off the street. I'm here to tell you that all three arguments proved false.

However, phone calls from other parents and coaches started coming and before you know it, we were sucked into the SELECT SPORTS pyramid scheme that goes something like this: the coach is part of a club; the club is divided into various levels of playing expertise and age groups; the club has a director of coaches and a trainer; every year or so, you have to purchase the entire soccer wardrobe: cleats, away uniform, home uniform, practice uniform, travel uniform; you have to attend camps and training; you have to travel with the team...so all along the line, the coach is making money, the trainer is making money, the Director is making money, Nike is making money and well, you are broke because YOU are paying right into the SELECT PYRAMID scheme. For which, you get the privilege of driving your kids all over God's Green Earth, watching your kids chase a ball around the field.

The bonus to this whole costs- more- than -state -school -college pyramid scheme is that you meet some pretty great people who will be your friends for life because you spend a lot of time drinking with them in the Holiday Inn Lobby (or if you are lucky and are with an uptown club, possibly the Hyatt) waiting to see if you advance or can go home from the tournament du jour. The downside is the things that you hear on the soccer field. All Ears would like to believe that she did not get sucked into the select parent vortex, but the truth be told, there was a moment where she told her son to get up after falling down, without first considering that he might be injured.

We heard some pretty amazing things from soccer parents, but probably my favorite was:

"Son get after it. No balls, no babies!"

The Devil Inside

Richie (blue), Young Terri, Willy (red). Listening to identical twins as they were growing up was quite the education. Their first words were words they made up with each other - like Monga for Milk, which isn't even close to Milk or Leche. Weren't they cute? They were/are a handfull.

Richie circa first grade: Willy you have to give everyone a valentine. It's not nice.

Willy: The angel in me says to give everyone one; but the devil says not to give the girls one.

The devil inside has pretty much been winning every since.

Foodie Finds

Hang out by the wine at a party and you are guaranteed a good time with some great revelations that we will leave for another post, but hang out by the food and you are in for an auditory treat! You find out who wears the apron in the relationship; great shopping hints; but most of all great recipes....and if you're staying away from the wine bar, you can usually remember them. BONUS: If you have an iphone you can use the notepad to jot it down; or the record button to capture it or some app I have yet to purchase. Here are my favorite overheard recipes that I have made my own - totally ripped off from way better cooks than me - best read and made with a glass of wine in hand:

FIG APPETIZERS - these are a guaranteed hit - easy to make when figs are in season; healthy, pretty and mmmmmmmmm good. Fresh Figs (any kind - I like to get a variety) - cut in half, spread fresh chevre cheese on top of the figs (the expensive fresh stuff is better and spreads nicely but if you really must use the kind in the "tube", please put it in a little bowl, mix in some olive oil and add spice of your choice like basil, and mix it all together before spreading on top of figs). Just prior to serving, lightly sprinkle balsamic vinegar on top. If you want to be fancy, get some seasonsed sea salt and sprinkle lightly on top too. If you've got a fig tree and a bumper crop, give me a call!

CRAWDAD DIP - OK with the Saints winning the Superbowl and all - it's time the whole world went cajun. This dip was shamelessly stolen from a Mardi Gras party from a friend who claimed it was her Aunt Ruby's secret dip. Of course, she spent a lot of time at her own wine bar, so loose lips revealed the secret before the evening ended and All Ears was there to capture this recipe. She has since tried it out on her own neighbors to smashing success. WARNING: It is not on your Dear Food Diary diet. The secret to this recipe is finding Crawdads - for those that don't live in Nawlins, can be a hunt. Tipsy friend said that she got them at Central Market in the freezer section - you want to find the frozen ones because trust me on this one - no one wants to get 1000 pounds of crawdads and spend an evening shucking tails to get 21 oz of them. All ears went to Central Market, couldn't find them but then learned you have to ask and they go to the secret freezer vault to get them. However, when this was revealed at neighborhood Superbowl party, it was later learned that you can get them at Wal-Mart in the regular freezer section for about half the price. For my yankee friends, I'm sure you could substitute crab but then it wouldn't be Aunt Ruby's crawdad dip. Just saying.

2 T. Butter (no cheating with butter subtitutes)
1/3 to 1/2 cup chopped green onion
2 cloves garlic - minced
2 packages (8 oz) creamed cheese (again, not the light variety)
5-8 oz. boursin cheese
1 - 1 1/2 T Ground Cayenne pepper to taste (my yankee friends you might want to substitute black pepper or leave out if you don't like a kick. But trust me - the kick is good! I think Cayenne pepper has some antioxidant properties also!)
2 packages (10.5 oz each) frozen Crawdads, thawed (see above for where you can get them)

Saute the green onion and garlic in BUTTER (no cheating with healthy substitutes); Add cream cheese and boursin cheese and melt both in skillet; stir in cayenne. Add thawed Crawdads. Stir well, put in a chafing dish and serve with....(OK here's the part where you can be healthier) - Fritos, Tortilla Chips, Pita, celery or the crunch of your choice.

EVERYTHING BUT THE KITCHEN SINK SALAD
As everyone probably knows, we moved out of the burbs and into the country. The closest grocery store is 30 minutes away. We used to have 5 grocery stores within a 5 mile radius of us, so this has been an adjustment but makes us creative in our cooking. We were at our neighbor's home and he had this amazing salad and the real beauty it is that it requires NO DRESSING! The vegetables marinating in their own juices create what tastes like a salad dressing. All ears heard many whispers of disbelief, thinking said neighbor was just trying to keep the salad dressing a secret as he is a major foodie - evidenced by running into him (surprisingly) competing at the HICO steak cook off last year. After all, competitive people don't like to give up their recipes. Well, I'm here to tell you we tried the overheard recipe and it's true - no dressing required but tastes like it.

Chop up whatever salad vegetables you have in the refrigerator - he used cabbage, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions and I don't remember what else. Then he just used coarse salt and pepper. The salt drew out the natural juices from the vegetables and it was wonderful!!! He learned this from a lady at the local Farmer's Market in Weatherford.

Which leads me to another way to find great recipes: Be NOSEY! Shop at the Upscale grocery store or Farmer's markets. Follow the guys and gals wearing Chef coats around the produce section and ask what they are making with all those exotic fruits and vegetables they are buying....amazing what you can learn!

BON APETIT! I'm not Julia Child...

Out of the mouth of babes

The sunshine in my life is my granddaughter Liliana or Lili for short. I came into grandparenthood kicking and screaming - as it turns out - all wasted energy because she is the BEST THING in this whole wide world. She's about to turn 2 (the day before my birthday!) and very verbal and stubborn like someone else she is related to. Listening to her is a lot of fun and translating is also pretty fun. For example Ba-Do means Where are you?

The other day she was brushing Pete's hair and she got to the bald spot on top and said in utter dismay:

"PaPa What happened?"

We never heard the answer but have laughed on that one for days. As you can tell, Lili is not short on hair at all!!

Charming, Witty and Pretty?

But definitely NOT bright? Donna: maybe we had this wrong all these years.

Overheard at 30th High School Reunion:

You just do not know what it was like to be a smart girl in the 70s.

Hairy Situation

So there are all these phenomenal people gathered in Dallas for a few days to affectionately drink the pink Kool-aid with each other. Believe me when I tell you that I have the 64 OZ Big Gulp on this one - I believe so passionately in our mission to end breast cancer forever but I do wish we would hurry up because pink is really NOT my color. I'm more of a blue girl but I digress.

We were in the midst of some heavy hitting cancer docs - Sloan Kettering, Harvard, MD Anderson, Indidana University - you get the picture. We also heard what our sister affiliates are doing to make an impact in their community. In one big-city affiliate they discovered that African American women were dying of BC at twice the rate of their White counterparts and they decided to do something about it. Their grass roots activisim is impressive and they had a panel discussion about their initiatives.

Heard afterwards: OH MY GOD - did you see her hair? You couldn't see half of her face. Was she hiding a scar?

I am not proud to admit that I participated in this discussion about this VERY SMART FEMALE DOCTOR because truth be told, it was distracting. However, upon reflection I thought that it was very ironic that for so many of us who have TOTALLY LOST OUR HAIR to chemotherapy and dealt with hair trauma issues (for many of us, the most devastating part of the cancer process) that there was so much discussion about "the hair presenter." So was it true that our bald heads were distracting? Were you not to listening to us but assessing what was wrong with us? And why do we judge so harshly on grooming and dress for women? And did we miss the point: SHE WAS DOING SOMETHING ABOUT THE BREAST CANCER DISPARITY ISSUES IN HER COMMUNITY.

I wish I would have been a better listener.

All My Breast Friends

Ta-Tas, Boobies, mammies, the girls, my rack...Save Second Base, Save the TaTas, Feel Your Boobies. All regularly overheard at the annual Komen Affiliate Leadership Conference in Dallas. It's hard to believe that less than 30 years ago (in my lifetime!) - you wouldn't have overheard these funnies ANYWHERE. In fact you wouldn't have heard ANYONE talking about breast cancer in ANY fashion. It wasn't even written in print. Women were diagnosed and not told what they had or like Susan G. Komen - have a lump removed and proclaimed "cured." Our founder, Nancy Brinker, was one woman who set out to change that as a promise to her sister Susan G. Komen, after her death at age 36 to this disease. She reminds me that one person can be heard...and then another...and another...and pretty soon you have a global movement where women everywhere are finally HEARD. I truly believe if anyone is going to find a cure for cancer, it will be with the help of this female energy activist organization that I am proud to be a part of.


To the 1,000 women and men from all over the globe who shared these few days with me, it was a great place to not only hear your experieces but to be heard.

Middle School Confidential

As I age, there are times I have come to appreciate my loud-rock-concert-ipod-played too loud hearing impairment because there are some things you don't want to hear. Particularly when people are talking about YOU or people YOU LOVE or people YOU USED TO LOVE and you realize - they are talking about me and they don't know I can hear! This happened to my ex-husband and I once as we waited to be audited by the IRS. The auditor was talking about us and our tax return and WE HEARD EVERYTHING. Any of you who know my ex-husband know that this worked to our advantage, as he manipulated and confused that situation so much that we not only paid them any more money but they sent us a $1,000 check to make us go away... and it should have been a sign for me that it was going to be one long ass convulted divorce proceeding.

But the saddest "overheard yet", was approaching the Middle School band bus to chaperone and hearing the girls who were out at PE talking about boys.

Middle School Girl 1: I can't believe you are going out with Tyler. He's so gross.
Middle School Girl 2: Well at least I'm not going out with a midget.

Middle School Girl 2 was my son's girlfriend and said Midget was my son!

Middle school was definitely bad the second time around. And the things you hear there are defintely not the things you want to hear. My condolences to Middle School parents everywhere.

Wal Mart

If you really want to tune in to people, there are two perfect places: The Airport and ....Wally World. While I philosophically hate shopping at Walmart, it provides so much good material that you must go there and just listen. Don't shop. Or shop if you must, but really you have to listen. Depending upon the part of town you are in, you just can't help hearing funny stuff. As I have moved out to BFE Texas, where Mullets are the preferred hair style in my local Walmart...my ears have been burning up. However, my favorite Walmart ear candy to date came from college town Walmart.

Two obvious Freshmen boys, purchasing supplies for their living quarters.

DUDE. SWIFTER IS THE SHIT! We have to get the swifter.

Now everytime I use my swifter, I laugh.

Blast way back to the past

And lest I'm shedding less than favorable light on said sons, overheard by son Willy, then 3 (20 years ago) playing with his stuffed animals in his room:

"I'm not a bear. I'm a People."

Nuff Said.

Straight Up Eavesdropping

In an effort to capture some old "overheards" I'm stepping back in time today because this one is too good not to commit to history. And well, I admit, this is definitely not an overheard but a good old fashioned mom eavesdropping on the then teenage son talking to his BFF who is the son of my BFF - obviously trying to cook up some shenanigans. Back in the day of good old eavesdropping land line days.

My Son: So, did you talk to your mom about going?
BFF Son: Yeah.
My son: What did she say?
BFF Son: Shit, Shit, Shit....bitch, bitch, bitch

Had to stifle a complete laugh over that one. To this day, we use that phrase amongst ourselves - little do they know the material they provide us!! The modern day equivalent of Charlie Brown's adults: Waa Waa Wahh Wahh Wa Wah

Tarrant County Jail

Don't ask what I was doing there...I just was. So there are these little booths, with prisoner on one side/window and visitor on the other side. OK it's not very private so if you are even within earshot of the front door, you can hear everything going on. So this girl is obviously visiting her BF and you can't hear his side of the conversation at all but hers goes something like this: YOU THINK YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE THAT'S GOT SHIT GOING ON? YOU THINK YOU GOT PROBLEMS? WELL WHILE YOU ARE IN HERE, I GOT SHIT OF MY OWN. I DON'T NEED YOUR SHIT. I don't need your mamma calling me and asking me to drive her to Church. I don't need your complaining and asking for money. I don't need your uncle borrowing money from my mom. I don't have money for even my own shit. WHY DO I HAVE MY NAILS DONE? WHY DO I HAVE MY NAILS DONE? I have to have my own shit.

Why are you wasting the time you don't have; the gas money you don't have; to rage against a guy behind a glass? I'm just saying.

St. Croix - Bucanneer Hotel

Really this is one that no one could make up. OLD (I'm talking way older than me), FAT, OBNOXIOUS Man at luxury resort hotel beach with YOUNG (I'm talking way younger than my kids), CUTE, SKINNY (in a probably vodka/cocaine diet kind of way) GF. GF is on the beach with umbrella drinks and skimpy suit. Old guy is in the water. I'm in the water too (too much skinny bitch on the beach). It's father's day. He strikes up a conversation with other old guy in the water - discussing women. He tells the guy how he has never settled down and how he is an AWESOME tennis player and because of his TENNIS SKILLS, he has STRONG PELVIC MUSCLES that keep him attractive to the younger ladies. He can keep up. If you know what he means. Wink Wink Wink.

Riiiight...I'm guessing the back pocket was the only thing she was interested in. But dream on old guy. These are really the things people share out loud. Terri was listening and heard it.

Blue Mesa University Ave - Happy Hour

Pete, my sig O, works at the Apple Store on University in Fort Worth...Blue Mesa is in that same complex and has a great happy hour with a full quesadilla/taco bar so it's a great place to grab an after work drink on a nice outdoor patio. Overheard: young man talking on cell phone "But Babe...drinking is my shopping. You like to go shop. I like to drink. I don't complain when you are out shopping. I'll be home soon. Why can't you understand this?"

I'm just wondering why he didn't bring her to Blue Mesa? Happy Hour Drink specials. Free Taco Bar. Patio. Maybe it was that other girl with him and that was really his kind of shopping? BABE...