Posts Tagged ‘Friends’
I’ve Been a Bad, Bad, Bad Bloggy Girl
Let’s face it. We’re all bad sometimes.
My biggest sin – the absence from my blog the last few months. Heck, as a former catholic schoolgirl, I need to go to confession.
My sincerest apologies go out to all my readers who wandered away…I pray you come trickling back. In droves. And bring some new friends too.
Perhaps the group most affected by my bloggy absence – my poor family. They’ve had to actually resort to PICKING UP a cell phone and asking about my dates and tribulations the old fashioned way – through vocal prose. Gone were those days when they could simply surf to a public site and receive a free “Leaza” update, courtesy of my busy night-owl fingers. I had them spoiled. I’m surprised my mom survived without her weekly laughs and/or gasps.
I admit – I got in a rut…a big Tonka Truck one. It was mostly fueled by a domino effect of dating dilemnas, job stress, summer lovin’, and an endless stream of visitors. Every time I thought, “I need to blog”…something more important came up…like flossing. Or reading the Instyle autumn September issue. Or attending the largest microbrew tasting in the US – conveniently located only 5.3 miles away!
I guess the “best” part of being gone – is that you feel missed. I received numerous emails with the term, “Are you alive?” and “Please say you didn’t get married” in the subject line. Geez, I never knew so many people in Iowa were following my dating adventures! Hugs. I even had close friends offer to “take over the blog” while I got my act together. It’s as if I was driving a tanker with no hands and my bffs wanted to hop aboard and turn this baby into Operation Bloggy Rescue. That, my friends, is teamwork…or at least unconditional love.
So…just to briefly catch you up on the life of Leaza…here’s the scoop. First, I switched to a new HGTV show as a full-time writer. Let’s face it, I’ve been so busy documenting someone else’s story, I forgot to document my own. (Thankfully my life does not involve home remodeling.) Second, both of my grandmothers ended up in the hospital at the same time. This makes you the ponder the term, “Life is short” along with “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” I now refuse to let “that asshole” at work affect my mood…it’s not worth it! And third, I’m officially back on the dating market, eyes peeled and hair curled. Yep, I’ve already swooned on some great dates, secretly suffered through some others. But all in all, fall is off to a great start. It’s “hunting season.”
So dearest Blog,
Please forgive the neglect. It’s as if no time has passed, right? I swear I haven’t cheated on you with facebook.
Love, Leaza
P.S. If you’re new to my blog, consider checking out a few “oldies but goodies” –
Exhausted from Pimpin Myself Out
Finding 7 Minutes of Heaven in 8 Minutes of Speed Dating
Celebrating My Anniversary, NOT the Marriage Kind
Tick, tock…tick, tick, tick….
Native I’ll never be…but a Colorado transplant I’m happy to be. And a lucky one at that.
It was ONE YEAR AGO this month when I packed up my mini-cooper in Dallas, blazed a fierce trail to Denver, and started my life OVER. (well not really, but close enough) Yep, that’s what a cross country move does – it encompasses more than just a new chapter – it’s a different book entirely.
I had a love affair with Colorado from 1997 to 1999 when I attended CU-Boulder for graduate school. After living in the dreamworld of the Rockies, I found myself moving to a small Texas tv market to start my journalism career and “pay my dues” (aka starve to death and cover boring-ass city council meetings). In the back of my mind though, I always thought, “Colorado….I’ll be back!”
Over the next 10 years, my personal zip code and television career landed me in Little Rock, Kansas City, and Dallas. Sure the people were nice (news flash: people are nice everywhere), and I made some amazing friends, but the weather SUCKED! And the scenery – no comparison to Colorado. One day…my heart told me it was about time I did something for myself. So I opened the vault, found my dream, landed a job with a solid tv production company in Denver – and MOVED.
When you’re a newbie in town, time DOES fly. And to mark my big anniversary, I’m posting the top 10 things I have learned about “starting over.”
1. Learn to be alone – in public.
Bottom line – you must “go at it” alone at first – to have a handful of good girlfriends for the future. The only way to meet people – is to force yourself to be social through groups, outings, meet-up events, work happy hours, etc. Throw yourself to the masses and focus on other “newbies.” It’s a numbers game. Some people will stick, others won’t. It’s kind of like dating – minus the free dinners.
2. Don’t worry about buying a lot of new clothes.
New co-workers and friends will think your clothes from two years ago are brand-new since they’ve never seen them before! It’s quite liberating. That “old shirt” suddenly looks “new” again. Chances are – one of your new girlfriends will want to borrow it!
3. Pets are like family…usually better than family.
Furry friends help you survive the lonely weekend nights before you know ANYONE to rock the town with on a regular basis. Also, they don’t argue over which DVD to rent. Even my cat, Waylon, helps me feel safe at night despite having no claws.
4. In your 30s, it’s a small dating world after all.
Even though it’s a new city and you’re starting “fresh”….it only takes about five months until you see guys you’ve already dated before at a local bar. (Asshole Andy and Belgium Boy just to name a few) Every now and then, suck it up and go on a date with a dude in the burbs.
5. Facebook will get you through the hard times.
Of course you can keep track of girlfriends, secretly stalk old flames, and check in on your siblings. Better yet, you can post pictures of yourself in your fabulous new town, experiencing all its fabulous new adventures….hence making everyone else jealous.
6. If you’re forced to downsize, you won’t miss the extra space.
Trust me, even though it’s more expensive than “your old town,” you’ll be just as happy with less square footage in your “new town.” I’m more giddy on a daily basis because I have one less bathroom to clean. Less IS more. And I never miss my old, scary Freddy Kruger basement.
7. It’s fun playing tourist in your new hometown.
Chances are…you’re seeing more in the city than most people born in that particular town. I’m always amazed when I meet people raised in Colorado who have NEVER tried snow skiing. That’s like living in New York and NEVER shopping.
8. Much of your future success and happiness comes from people you do not know yet!
Weird to think about this, but very true. People walk in your life when you least expect it – they can impact your personal and professional life in more ways imaginable. So be nice to everyone (well, at first anyways). That bee-atch who at first seemed cold, could actually help you get a job promotion someday.
9. Good friends will come and visit – and it’s easy to pick up right where you left off.
Usually the “picking up” involves wine, sangria, outdoor patios, giggles, shrieks, laughs, then hangovers…in no particular order. Once the word spreads you live in a “cool” place, expect more visitors. Stock up on tour guide materials. Before you know it, friends and family expect you to plan their vacations.
10. And finally….one of my favorite quotes (author unknown)…to sum up starting over:
“If you resist change, or hold on to the past, you postpone all future blessings awaiting you on the next level.”
In lieu of anniversary gifts, I am asking that you comment on my blog. Or pass it on to someone who wants to make a change, but cannot find the courage.
The day I moved...
and the state I moved to...
Some Things THANKFULLY Never Change
Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know the drill…the ole familiar mantra. Life is about change, right? Change is inevitable. Change forces you to grow. Blah blah blah. (Damn those motivational speakers!)
Don’t get me wrong. I do relish some change…in certain situations. I enjoy changing my hairstyle, my toenail polish, my sheets (oo-lah-lah), underwear, and of course my address (when I moved to Denver). On the flip side, I HATE changing my own flat tire.
But some things…I just want to stay “the same.” For comfort reasons.
On top of my “no-changes-allowed” list…tried and true friendships. You know….the ones you can count on one perfectly manicured hand.
Thankfully, the bond I have with certain girlfriends has never changed (sounds cliche but true). I don’t have “blood” sisters, so my girlfriends are my “true” sisters. Yes, our lives have transformed over the years…but our emotional connections haven’t. True BFFs survive a typhoon of marriages, divorces, hangovers, cross country moves, breakups, breakdowns, newborns, new jobs, bad jobs, no jobs, 50 cases of PMS, and about 1.2 million bad and good dates. And I haven’t even mentioned the mini-makeovers, pounds lost, pounds gained, and all those damn exercise hours in between.
This comforting reality hit me last week when one of my BFFs (aka Brendy) visited moi from Kansas City. (I used to live there a few years back.) As any good hostess, I showed her all the beautiful “mile-high” city highlights. We sauntered down Larimer Square, rubbed elbows with the cougars at Elway’s, burned some laps at Wash Park, and even conquered Rocky Mountain National Park.
More importantly, though, we just cut to the chase and fell into our old BFF routine….the one that never changed. Same friendship…just a different location. Our fears…plus our dreams….all rolled into one conversation. Minutes in, Brendy and I were “in the zone”…best described as a combination of hot gossip, emotional details, genuine reactions….coupled with spurts of laughter, “oh-my-gods,” bedroom details, and various bitch sessions.
Bottom line…who cares about salutations and fluff…when you can get to the heart of the matter efficiently? Throw in some red sangria and watch the conversation run rampant.
A few days in to Brendy’s visit…..I realized something. Spending time with her…made me miss her EVEN more! Of course I had missed her the last few years….but as her departure loomed ahead…and the clock seemed to speed up….we realized the scope. It was huge…and special. Something I hope every woman experiences.
Brendy and I boo-hood like teenagers leaving summer horseback riding camp the night before her flight back to Kansas City. We hugged on the couch and felt pretty darn “Hallmark-card” pathetic. Heck, I’m surprised we didn’t buy cheesy friendship pins…or carve our initials into some poor tree.
After she left, I was seriously depressed all day…secretly sniffling to myself while editing video at work…trying to write an episode. Brendy texted me from the plane equally as bummed. Sigh……our big adventure was officially over. When I got home…I scarfed down potato chips, crawled under a blanket, and watched a chick “Sundance film festival” movie…attempting to think about something OTHER than my best friend’s absence.
Later that night, “Eye Guy” came over to attempt to cheer me up. Like any man, he wanted to “fix” the problem…then “make out. :) And like most women mourning the departure of someone special, I told him I needed my space (aka “get lost”) and to call me the next day. My pity party was my own and no one else’s…and would certainly not be ruined by some dude.
When the alarm rang the next morning, I made a conscious effort to find my “big girl panties.” I pulled my mood out of the gutter. And suddenly….all was “right” again in the world. Driving to work,….my acoustic satellite music channel acting as a sappy soundtrack…I pondered my blessings
As women…we need each other. It doesn’t matter what stage of life we’re currently “in”…or moving “into”…or “leaving.”
The lesson here….good friends really don’t change…instead…they help you roll, conquer, and survive all of your own life changes. And distance…well, it’s just a small detour.
If you like this post, send it to one of your BFFs.
When Good Men Wear Bad Clothes
Since my blog is all about me “being real”….let’s be real about men’s fashions — or rather the LACK of fashion some men posses on a daily basis.
The bad news — I see a lot of attractive men in their 30s who frankly…are dressing like old-white-JCPenney-grandpa-wanna-bees instead of stylish guys with good jobs and even better personalities.
The good news — women in their 30s are totally open to completely changing a man’s wardrobe and hairstyle (if he indeed still has hair).
Before you men call us “judgemental” or “superficial”…think of this…at least women are seeing the real you…and not the clothes you’re currently wearing. It’s called POTENTIAL. We were innately born with more fashion sense than you’ll ever be able to absorb through literature, Men’s Health, and advice from your gay buddies. We simply don’t care if your clothes are out-of-style…because we can fix the problem with more speed than a Jiffy Lube technician.
“He’s fun, genuine, has a big heart, cute….but he really needs some fashion help.” Wow…If I had a martini for every time I heard that (from one of my girlfriends’ mouths) I would probably be residing at the Betty Ford Clinic by now. The key term here is “fashion help.” The reality – women just want to “help.” Even if it’s not a REAL emergency.
Some quick advice guys…leave the hawaiian shirts, dated golf shirts, tapered jeans, and pleated khaki shorts at home. Better yet, drive down to the Salvation Army and unload them along with your white AND/OR black Reeboks and Dr. Scholl’s. One young man’s trash is ALWAYS another old man’s treasure. Any why you’re at it, toss out those ugly Keen sandals you’ve been hoarding. Those don’t look fashionable….they just look weird and orthopedic. Bottom line, if it looks like something your dad or grandfather would even GLANCE AT — (or your grandmother would buy) start using it to clean or buff your car. You won’t miss it — and in the long run – neither will your future girlfriend. Also, for the record…I have NEVER EVER EVER heard a woman say…”My boyfriend looks so hot in that golf shirt….You know the one with the crazy stripes.”
It’s so utterly refreshing to hear a man say he needs fashion help. Guys…Just come clean. Women in their 30s need help too. Unloading heavy groceries, changing an A/C filter, and putting windshield washer fluid in the “right hole” currently come to mind. You scratch our backs (or something else)…and we’ll scratch yours.
Cute be told…my current “Eye Guy” recently called me in for fashion advice. Like ALL men, he possesses numerous items which should have been purged a decade ago. (Think early 90s fashions from the “Friends” era) When I asked him why he had NOT recently cleaned out his closet, he replied, “I have attachment issues.” I responded, “To what, bad clothing?” We both had a good laugh…but then he booked me for a closet cleaning session later the next week. I plan on getting him tipsy before the event to deaden the pain of seeing so many bad clothes go “bye-bye.”
Guys..the solution here is actually easy…Just give us a couple hundred bucks and let us run rampant at Target, Banana Republic, and DSW like a sugar-obsessed toddler in Toys-R-Us. We’ll spend your money wisely and efficiently…creating multiple outfits in a single outing — all, of course, up to our standards.
I promise…we’re not asking you to personally embellish the word “metro-sexual” and make it your new “bumper sticker” mantra.” We’re not begging you to ONLY shop at Nordstroms and designer boutiques. We’re not mandating you “DVR” Project Runway weekly. (We still need you to be a man.)
We’re simply asking you to let us into your world — or rather your unchartered closet.
Two Roads Diverged in a Wood…and I Took the Dating Road Less Traveled By
In high school, I remember reading Robert Frost’s infamous poem, “The Road Not Taken.” Little did I know then, how that poem would become a reality for me as a dating adult.
Let me refresh your memory with its famous three lines of prose:
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
In those pubescent, poodle perm days, my immature brain couldn’t relate to Frost’s vision of taking the road less traveled. Heck, the only road I envisioned consisted of the driver’s ed course which ultimately led to my four-wheelin’ freedom.
But over the years, through my personal ups and down, I have found myself standing at a multitude of crossroads…recollecting on Frost’s sentiment that trekking the unfamiliar path – ultimately leads to a big positive difference.
Don’t worry…I’m not going to bore you with a bunch of stories centered around drama-filled life decisions like career moves, marriage, divorce, and which lipstick I buy at Sephora….blah blah blah.
Let’s simplify it or as I call it …“juice-ify” it.
In dating…we “chicks” often stumble upon “Two Roads Diverged in Wood.” Women in their 30s find themselves staring down two different paths – when it comes to ONE guy. Let me paint the picture. When you meet a potential person of interest out on the town (a.k.a. some dude you think is somewhat hot who actually has a decent job)…you IMMEDIATELY make a choice. A. You put him in the friend zone….or B….You chase after the romantic relationship with the BIG chance of losing the friendship all together. (NOTE: B is most always the road less traveled.)
As a woman in this age bracket, this dilemma has smacked me in the face numerous times. After sleeping on it (and drinking heavily while discussing this topic with gfs) I think I have an answer about why we struggle about which path to choose. Mostly, it’s about the RISK. Do we go after something which ultimately MAY turn out wonderful, yet end quickly? Or do we save face, take the safe route, and put the guy in the “you’ll never hurt me” zone. After all, he’ll be around forever then. Ugh.
The problem is…women in their 30s have built a wall around themselves that’s impermeable. We’ve becomes “aces” at protecting ourselves. Just like we’re pros at balancing our own checkbooks, buying our own houses, and organizing our own vacations. Why open up a potential can of worms filled with tears and rejection when you can avoid all that crap all together? Hmmmm…. In the long run, it’s simply the no-brainer to play it safe.
To those of you married, this conundrum may sound odd. You probably think it’s easy when meeting a guy to immediately know “what to do”…what decision to make…and if the guy gets a “thumbs up or down.” Welllllll………..its not. It’s a vat of confusion mixed with self pride and peppered with teenage anxiety.
Recently…two roads DID divulge in my personal dating world. It all started when I met a cute guy randomly at a wine tasting. He’s an optomestrist…so for the blog’s sake, I’ll call him “Eye Guy.” Like me, Eye Guy is a “Denver transplant.” I couldn’t quite determine whether he was interested in ME – or just interested in just networking with my friends – expanding his social circle. But I decided to hang in the weeds, rather than choosing my path, biding myself some time.
A few weeks in…after many shared conversations with Eye Guy…I found myself at that fork in the road…
So…after following my gut…
I threw on my hiking boots and took the path less traveled by…
So far….it IS making ALL the difference…not just in my life…but I hope his.
To the rest of you…I say go for it. You need the change of scenery.
Somehow Learning to Say NO
Amidst my hectic, whirlwind work day two days ago, my dad sent me a text message which landed me in “lah-lah land” for a brief moment. Often times, text messages carry NO real substance. This one, however, left me thinking….”Wow, my dad is right”…as I pondered my current existence.
The text message read….”What can you say ‘no’ to…so you have the time to say ‘yes’ to the important?”
As I thought about this simple question, I actually started to tear up ever so slightly. No, I wasn’t PMS-ing, I was rather reacting to my present state of mind – which at that moment – was CHAOS. My dad could sense my borderline panic attack during our earlier phone call, and reached out to me in an efficient time-saving “2010” aka texting manner.
Look everyone….I’m guilty as charged. I’m so busy saying ‘YES” to things that DON’T matter….I become so exhausted I CAN’T enjoy the things that DO matter. Where’s the fun in that stupid practice? It’s “over-saturation” at its finest.
To those of you who frequent my blog, you’ve probably noticed my pathetic absence. Truth is….I’ve overcommitted myself. Forget about the current seven day week…I need a nine day week…plus an extra three days for the weekend. Maybe then, I’ll have time to catch up and actually sleep 8 hours straight.
This spring, I’ve fallen into my familiar “bad habit” pattern — saying YES to everything. I nod yes to lengthy phone calls with friends and family, yes to happy hours, yes to working late, yes to working through lunch, yes to starting work early, yes to blowing off the gym, yes to cutting it too close, yes to facebook, yes to driving across town for events that don’t matter, yes to staying up a few more hours, yes to frivolous brunches, and YES to things I somehow forget about in entirety the next week.
Then I find myself COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED, unable to enjoy the precious moments to the fullest with close friends….or a special friend….or simply glossing over a spectacular moment…or postponing something that really matters.
What happened to the word “no” in my vocabulary? I sure didn’t have a hard time saying NO as a toddler OR teenager. Why did it suddenly sneak away in my 30s? Wherever “no” went, I desperately it back in my life. Oh, “no,” I’ve missed you so.
I’ve decided “we” as women love (or rather LIVE) to overcommit. Dudes don’t seem to have this problem. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY. I have never thought to myself…”Wow, my guy friend so-and-so is so so busy and overcommitted in life. He must be stressed.” Mostly, men are better at women at saying NO. (Actually this topic makes for a great future blog post so I’m going to quit typing now.)
Bottom line, here’s my promise to myself….the things I borderline care about will NOT take precedence over the things I passionately care about. Maybe that’s a lofty order…but I consider it a healthy checkpoint.
And to my good friends and close relatives, if I blow you off from time to time, don’t take it personally. I may simply be trying to save my sanity that particular week.
In closing…this is me saying “NO” to writing any more words for this post…and YES to hitting the sack before midnight…just barely.
So I Told My Mom About My Blog
Inevitably, secrets rise to the surface. This past week, I took a leap of faith (or craziness) and informed my mother about my somewhat anonymous blog. The time had come to share with her I had transformed from a geeky, straight A elementary school student into a 30-something year old serial Denver dater on the eternal prowl. (OK…this is a stretch, but you get the point.)
I knew if I didn’t tell her…the news would leak. Already, my “twin girl-power cousins” were “in-the-know.” Plus, it was only a matter of time before some random family member got tipsy (aka drunkola) at one of my Irish Catholic family reunions and spilled the bloggy beans. So…I sent my mother (who lives in Texas) a simple email, came clean about my life in the virtual world…and waited.
Dot – dot – dot….
A few days later, my mom called me and immediately launched into what I prayed would become a “positive lecture.”
She spouted off – right at the top – three main points…”I love the blog! You’re talented and your writing is humorous.” Then (after a pregnant pause)…“but every now and then I catch a whiff of bitterness. And I don’t want people to think you’re bitter. Because you’re not.”
You know what? She’s right. I’m not bitter. And I don’t want to come across as bitter. In fact, BITTER could become the new “4-letter word” in the world of 30-something year old dating. I do, however, want to come across as funny. I credit my writing style to my slightly sarcastic sense of humor coupled with uncanny ability to laugh at bad relationship snafus. For some reason, I find humor in situations when other women may shed tears – or break out in rage – or give up! Maybe I’ll just call it a chronic case of resiliency!
I do, however, see a lot of single women in their 30s who are bitter. And men too. But face it, men aren’t really reading my blog like women are – so why waste time talking about men? (My mom might say this is an example of my bitterness. Lol.)
My philosophy is simple – there’s a BIG difference between “having your guard up” – and acting “bitter.” And yes, while I’m constantly “on the prowl”…AND keeping my guard up while perusing for Mr. Right….I never want to be considered bitter. Bitter is bad. And if you’re bitter – men can sense it before they start talking to you at a bar….Or while they stand behind you at the Target check-out line. So wash away the bitterness…before it becomes your next cologne.
Yep, I’ve been heart broken, dumped, cheated on, lied to, dissed, stood up, even left stranded in a park…but somehow I keep pluggin’ along – knowing SOMEONE SPECIAL is out there – earmarked for moi. And if he senses I’m bitter – he’ll just jump ship to the next blond. I’d rather pour my heart into a possible relationship, take a chance, and face rejection once more again — than GOD forbid – act bitter.
So Mom, thank you for becoming my newest reader. Please remember – you may not like all my posts. In fact you may cringe at some of them. But I hope to offer you many laughs. I’m sure we’ll disagree at times….but ONE thing we do agree on – I’m NOT bitter.
Also, since you finally have DSL….how long will it take you to figure out I mentioned you in my blog? Bonus points for figuring out how to “comment” on this post.
Love, Me
XOXOXO
Like Mother, Like Daughter
A Diggity Dog Weekend in Colorado for Pups
As everyone knows (I’ve heard your giggles), I’ve been carrying around a stuffed dog named Pups the Traveling Labrador the past week. Pups “mom” found my blog, then sent Pups for a Colorado visit. For the last four years, he has traveled the globe…posing in front of random, beautiful, breathtaking, and humorous locations. I’m proud to add Vail to Pups’ list of favorite destinations…
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Let me introduce you to the traveling labrador dawg named Pups…
Who said a lot more than “woof” and “ruff-ruff.”
Visiting his new friend, Leaza, Pups headed west…
And gave Denver (along with Leaza’s kids Waylon and Lilly) his doggie-do best….
First to the Colorado State Capitol to check out the sights…
Next to High Noon Entertainment to his doggie delight.
He wrote a script in Leaza’s TV producer cube…
Then worked in the editing bay with his quick creative moves…
Finally before leaving…Pups made a new friend…
Emma, a therapy dog, who had a helping paw to lend.
Early that evening, Pups cruised west on I-70…
Heading to Vail, he knew fun and craziness would be a-plenty…
The night began in Vail Village via a shuttle bus…
He and the crew met many people – including a granola guy named Gus.
A quick stop at Vendetta’s yielded some awesome pizza as a kicker…
Pups finally cut loose and ordered his own pitcher!
Next – dancing at “The Club” – making friends with the ladies…
Pups thought he had died and gone to heaven…and barked, “Oh baby.”
Pups found his way onstage – hanging with the band.
Posing as a backup singer – he felt this was his “life-doggie plan.”
The night ended (in the morning) with Pups snoring in bed….
With visions of snowboarding and Vail blue skies dancing in his head.
Day one of snowboarding started with a bang.
Pups rode up the lift from Lionshead with Leaza and her gang.
Pups picked up pointers from other boarders who offered assistance…
Soon he was riding on his own – this dawg growled persistence!
Before long, Pups was boarding where no dog “had gone before…”
Also – meeting new friends – eternally partying from his inner core…
He bumped into his Scooby Do, his favorite compadre and hero…
Then conquered some more mogul turns…before his energy dropped to zero…
Day two of skiing and boarding…Pups arose tired and feeling a wee sick.
A cup of strong coffee, some advil, and H2O quickly did the trick!
The last day of Vail Closing Weekend began on a lift heading up…
Leaza and her “dressed-up” gang brought along Pups as he considered himself one “lucky duck…”
Adorned with shades, Pups caught some rays atop Blue Sky Basin…
Hanging with fellow dudes, picnicking, and enjoying periods of just lazin’…
Putting his snowboard aside, he ponied up to some beverages on ice….
Checking out crazy costumes…he howled with laughter and thought, “Dude, this is nice!”
Later that night, Pups recorded all his memories in his pawesome personal book…
He thought to himself…”After a long weekend in sunny Colorado, I’m hooked!”
“Dear Leaza” he wrote…”You are a loyal ‘dog’s best friend.’
In lieu of more laughter, mountain views, and partying….Please let me know when I can visit again.”
Call me Crazy, but I’m Toting around a Lovable, Stuffed Dog!
Listen up peeps…Leaza has a visitor this weekend. Yes, I know I’m usually dishing about dating…but for the next week…I’ll be dishing about my new sidekick – Pups the Traveling Labrador.
Before you call me “crazy,” let me explain. Pups is somewhat like the Travelocity gnome you see posing in pictures all over the world. His purpose simply is to spread doggy cheer. He’s a “Good Will Ambassador” of sorts…for pets and humans alike. Pups has traveled the globe for over four years and has visited DOZENS of countries. He loves posing for pics in front of the world’s most recognizable sites.
His “mom,” Paula, recently discovered www.myflirty30s.com…and asked if Pups could visit Colorado. Sooooo…..Friday, April 16th….Pups heads with me and my “posse of friends” to Vail Closing Weekend! He’s ready for a weekend of skiing, eating, watching concerts, howling at the moon, and enjoying select libations. Maybe he can help Leaza pick up some hot ski dudes!!??
I figure Pups will be a great icebreaker! Stay tuned for more pictures…
PUPS CHECKS OUT THE COLORADO STATE CAPITOL IN DENVER
WALKING UP THE CAPITOL STEPS....
THIS CANNON ROCKS!
GOODBYE DENVER....HELLO VAIL!
Blessed with BFFs…not the Boy Kind
Last night, my date of the night exclaimed, “Wow, you have a lot of single friends.”
Yep, I do…and I covet every single one of them…the ones who live close, the ladies who I’ve left behind, and the ones I haven’t met – YET.
Before you criticize me for using a childish acronym to describe my divas in crime…consider this…My BFFs give me the courage to survive my PMS, my mom’s incurable MS, my stepmom’s OCD, my dad’s BADH (beating a dead horse), my younger brothers’ BS, and any and all dudes MIA or AWOL.
Where would I be without my girlfriends, AKA, surrogate sisters? Hmm…probably with a double muffin top, borderline insane, and watching infomercials on Saturday night. Lovely.
Finding all these lovely gals WASN”T easy. Making new SINGLE girlfriends in your 30s is similar to dating. You catapult yourself into a million activities, pimp yourself out in stylish clothes, make fun conversation – and pray you stick to someone else – or that she finds you completely hysterical and begs for your number.
In your 30s, it’s tough. Women are exhausted with their careers, family commitments, appearances at one-year old birthday parties (SNORE), work-out schedules (UGH), and oh yeah – DATING. And just like dating, sometimes you click – and sometimes you don’t. And there doesn’t seem to be a formula for either.
Last summer, when I moved to Denver, I found myself on the prowl for single galfriends. Like many Denver newbies, I joined meetup.com and bravely sauntered into several hiking, social, and outdoor groups. BINGO! When I showed up to my first event, I met about a dozen women just like me — lasses who dreamed of living and working in Colorado – and who followed their dream out west. Within a month, I met my “long term lady matches” – Miranda and Celeste. We often laugh that a last minute Friday night happy hour at Lola’s – turned into “our first official date.”
For some random reason, the three of us just mesh. We’re NOT the same, we’re actually somewhat different. As the “Triple Trifecta Act.” we work the bars with ease and prowess. I’m the tall, all-american blonde…Miranda is the demure, outdoorsy, and cute brunette…and Celeste is the petite, flirtatious Filipino. Truth be told, I’m not usually attracted to stylish, designer-obsessed men from California, but for some reason Celeste melts my heart with her diva demands and hysterical sentiments. And though I’m determined to find a “man” who snow skis like moi, I’m perfectly content Miranda prefers snowshoeing and is currently counting down the days til summer activities.
It boils down to this…Celeste, Miranda, and I share a similar social spirit. Just like the moon, we can wax and wane, and tremendously whine to each other in between. Kinda like comfort food…minus the calories.
The Trifecta!
As MUCH as we single ladies complain (hem and haw) about NOT having a man…I prefer to look at it this way….what a wonderful window in our lives! I don’t want it to shut…god forbid…anytime soon. While many married people consider their spouses “their best friends,” I have the privilege of calling several women in my life – my best friends. Some I talk to every day, some only every few months, some not enough at all. But, ladies, you know who you are – and I’m guarding your tall tales til the final hurrah.
Someday when I’m a granny, my mind will flash back to my (as we call it in TV) “sizzle reel.” I’ll remember searching for the elusive “black taco” for two hours straight, the pub crawls where we crawled nowhere but home, living it up on sorority homeowners’ row, partying on a country band’s tour bus, dancing on stages, the occasional cat fight and ubiquitous bitch sessions, wearing each other’s clothes, and laughing and crying within the same five minute span.
I’ll sit in my rocker….LMAO and think OMG…what a ride. Pour me another cranberry and vodka. And don’t H2O it down.
An Oldie...but Goodie...
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