M.A.L.A. M.I.A.

Well it's summer camp time here at our farm so I'm very behind on my blog-stalking and bloggity duties; missing out on all sorts of funny stories and tales of debauchery. Instead, I'm hangin' with a bunch of rugrats, teaching riding and trying to figure out how my house gets trashed daily despite the 8 hours we spend OUTSIDE each day!!! Because after a long day of wrangling horses and kids, y'all know how much I love trying to figure why there's gum embedded and my area rug and what the hell is that smell? Oh well, other than that, and my arse is draggin, it's all good.
But still, the little buggers are too old for nap time, and slipping them anything is probably illegal or something, so it doesn't leave much time for things I really like to do blogging.
So I'm stealing Bev's idea and posting an old class photo. It's ridiculously easy to figure out which one I am.


*SPOILER* OK don't read unless you've already guessed which one is me. Deal?
My Mom had a hair ribbon to match every.single.outfit. I'm not sure I ever went to school without my hair done with an outfit-matching ribbon. Where did I go so wrong? Most of the time Morgan looks like she had her hair done by a blind, angry monkey... sans ribbons.

And since we're bustin' out the ol' blasts from the pasts. I felt the need to share this since it's what I watched every single Saturday night.

I don't recall so many tranny's being dancers for Solid Gold....
Also, every time Morgan does her strange, interpretative dancing in the living room, complete with lots of sprawling on the floor, the Solid Gold theme song plays in my head.

You're Supposed To Feed 'Em?

Or... The Ultimate in Thrifty-ness!

Despite the cool weather we've had and the fact that our pool temperature is probably hovering around 53 degrees, Morgan insisted she wanted to go for a dip.
So she came down sporting this little teeny bikini...

Hmmm, cute but where did she get it? I don't remember buying her a new bathing suit.. Did she get it for her birthday? No, I don't think so. This isn't a bathing suit she had from last year..... But it is vaguely familiar. There's just something about this bathing suit, I'm sure I've seen it before... Where the hell did this bathing suit come from?...

As I stood there staring at Morgan, trying to recall this bathing suit, it hit me!

"OMG Morgan, turn around and let me see the tag", I said as I spun her around to confirm my suspicion. No way.... could it be??



Yup! It was! Her very first bathing suit. Size 3-6 MONTHS! I kid you not! Not one like her first bathing suit. HER.FIRST.BATHING SUIT!


Does that beat MOFM's 15 year old undies?

Oh and when I asked her to turn around so I could get a shot at the backs (cause quite frankly I'm surprised they fit as well as they do) this is the pose she gave me. Yeah, I'm in trouble. Anybody know of a nice all-girls boarding school I can send her until she's 35?

Jon and Kate plus...... Cha-ching!

Allow me to first say that I had a really difficult time deciding whether or not I should post this. I mean, truth be told I've never watched the show (until last night - damn it!), nor cared to. Moreover, I'm afraid y'all won't love me in the morning just on principle that I actually pissed away bandwidth for this crap.

So, at the risk of losing your love (heck, it's too late for respect... and I'm OK with that), here's my take on the whole Jon and Kate brilliant marketing drama.

Without ever watching the show, I get that it's a reality show that follows a couple and their insanely large litter family of kids. That could be interesting for like 20 minutes, tops. But really I think it would probably just stress me out and make me glad my child-birthing days are over.
But somehow this series has survived several seasons. How? I don't know. But seriously, how much longer could it continue? Unless......

Ah yes, America loves them some dirty laundry! The paparazzi are only too eager to chomp all over this story. Send Jon out in the company of a slut young female who doesn't sport a reverse mullet and let the stories fly! Maybe I'm just bitter and jaded, but suddenly this show feels as real as "The Hills". But surely, the show's execs know exactly what they're doing.

* If Jon had really in fact cheated, You know Kate would be going all ghetto "That SOB! I'm gonna (BLEEP) kill you! You no good (BLEEP)ing (BLEEP) (BLEEP)! I'm gonna (BEEP) your (BLEEP) with a (BLEEP)!!" but instead she's all, "yes. I'm hurt." What?! That's not reality! We all know this is the kind of beat down she serves when her kid simply asks why Mommy's head looks like an ass...


* And do they ever say he's banging having relations with that girl? No. They use terms like "bad choices" and "misjudgement". C'mon, I'm not buying it! Bad choices is that hair cut.

* And unless I slipped into unconsciousness missed it, do they admit to actually filing DIVORCE papers or do they always refer to it as "filing legal documents"? Heck, maybe they're just filing for an extension on their taxes.

* Without this mega-boost in ratings, and let's face it - me and about a million other people would have NEVER watched the show had it not been for the fact that I couldn't reach the remote for the hyped-up drama, how would Kate continue to get lypo and boob jobs? Huh? Huh?

* Can you say Reunion Special? The way I figure it, they'll milk this separation thing for at least a season, then drop the whole 'will they? won't they?' for the next season which will end in a two-hour season finale where they realize they can't live without each other. *GAG* Then they'll parlay it into some big Jon and Kate Renew Their Vows *Gag Gag* special.

So that's my take on the whole issue that really has no relevance in any of our lives.

Course, I could be wrong.

(note: I still love you even if you admit to loving this show! Hi Lori!)

OK, OK, Here's The Pictures.

Per Bev's pleading, here's the pictures from our L.A. trip that should have been included in the post below but I'm a losah, so there.

Bev and her new BFF!


Me and my new BFF (ironically, my BFF and Bev's BFF were of the same width, except Bev's BFF didn't break when one hugged her.)


Run Bev! It's the governator!


Bev and I and our massive feet. (note: Marilyn Monroe was a midget!)


Bam's parents Ape and Phil. They were afraid we were gonna tail them up to Bam's place.


Do these overalls make me look fat?


(caption this)


*SQEEEEEE* catching up with my L.A. pal Paul, who may or may not lurk this blog and who should stop lurking and start commenting because he's super cool and super funny. (and I would say that even if he wasn't lurking)


Check it out! Just over Bev's left shoulder in the black car is Johnny Knoxville.


The obligatory picture with a star on the walk of fame.


Me, Bev and my multiple chins. Yay me!

So there you go. You wanted pictures, I got your pictures.

Ghosts of Birthdays Past

So today was my birthday and to sum it up in one word, it would be mild. And that's OK. Mild and all, it was a good day. I crawled out of bed and made breakfast for the fam (damn! I had to share my b-day with Father's Day which made it kinda touchy when I tried to bark out birthday demands at Joe. Oh well, I'll make up for it next year). Then I spent no less than 2 hours cleaning the barn, which, believe it or not, is my idea of a relaxing morning. The afternoon included a lunch out, Night at the Museum a la IMAX and some time chillin' at the local arcade. Yes, a good day indeed.
But it was only 24 hours...
My past 3 birthdays have been far from mild. And more than 24 hours.
Last year Beck and I flew to L.A., stayed at the uber-nice Westin, got to hang out with a great friend and then drive to San Diego to have a reunion with some incredible kids from Beck's orphanage who have found their forever homes here in the U.S.. An absolutely wonderful, whirlwind of a trip. And Beck is a world-class little traveler.

My birthday before that I was flying home from our first trip to Kyrgyzstan. Joe and I were both required to stay the first week in country, but after that only one parent needed to remain for the second week. We had only two days notice that we were even traveling to Kyrgyzstan so I had sort of dropped my (then) 5 year old daughter and the entire horse farm into my Mother's lap and flew off. So we decided it was a good idea that I return early. So I got up at 3am and went to the Bishkek airport and flew to Moscow for a 8 hour layover. Yes, just about the longest 8 hours ever. Just picture what you think the Moscow airport would be like, and then make it FAR, FAR less glamorous... and MUCH, MUCH more dirty. Add an impenetrable cloud of cigarette smoke and a few hundred foul-mood Russians and you've got the picture. Then it was back on a plane to NY where my connecting flight to NH was postponed repeatedly until it was finally cancelled just as my 31 hour birthday was coming to a close. Ohhh the joys of flying back into time. The hellish day that never ended. Of wait, it did end, with my incredibly sleep deprived self shacking up in a sleazy pay-by-the-hour hotel with some lady who I never did get her name. Nor did I care. Hey, I had been awake for like 2 days straight... in the same clothes. I would have committed all sorts of crimes for a bed and shower. After 3 days of flying, I finally made it home.

Luckily, the birthday prior was far more enjoyable. Bev and I boarded a plane (see a pattern?) at the ass-crack of dawn and flew to L.A., enjoyed an In-N-Out Burger (but not as much as we thought we would. heh), checked into our crap-shack hotel, hit the town touring LA (read: celeb-stalking), and were studio audience members for Jimmy Kimmel Live. If I remember correctly the guests were David Hasselhoff and Bonnie Hunt (talk about picking the wrong night! If they added Yanni it would have been the Tri-fecta of snooz-a-rific asshats in Hollywood) with musical guests Buckcherry who, at the time scared me, but later I grew to love. Crazy Bitch, anyone? Again, that whole flying back into time, we were now on the 26th hour of my birthday, our In-N-Out burgers had long failed us and we set out for some grub... which proved to be difficult for some reason, maybe because we were delirious with hunger and fatigue. But a fabulous birthday nonetheless. (wouldn't it be fabulous if I had a picture right here from that wonderful trip? Yes, I think it would. But that would mean firing up the ol' external hard drive and hunting for one. And, well, that would require me getting out of bed. Which isn't gonna happen. Deal. So instead just picture, if you will, Bev and I soakin' up the sun and looking all fab in Tinseltown...ok.)
So yes, this birthday lacked long flights, angry Russians, David Hasselhoff and was only 24 hours long, but still fabulous in it's on way.
Also, Happy Father's Day to all the Daddy folk... but next year, get your own day!

Trip 1, 2 Years Ago, 3 Hearts, Joined 4Ever

Exactly 2 years ago Joe and I made our first trip half way around the world to meet a little 2 1/2 year old boy named Aibek. Today, as this wonderful little boy sits on my lap and we watch this video, it's hard to believe he's the same boy. He's grown in so many ways. It's hard to understand from these pictures that before we arrived we had been warned that he was so afraid of people, that he would shy away to the back of the room whenever there were visitors to his orphanage. He was so fearful of people, a fact that scared potential parents away. But in my heart, I feel he was waiting for us. Within a few minutes of meeting him, he was in my lap, something his orphanage director was amazed by.
It was an amazing visit but getting on that plane to return home without him was heartbreaking. To have him bond with us, to trust us like he had never trusted anyone else... and then to have to leave him for 2 months was beyond difficult.

Adoptions have now currently stalled in Kyrgyzstan. Please pray for the parents who know their children's names but remain a half a world apart, and for the children who remain in orphanages without the daily love and presence of parents that every child deserves.

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Shuffle Ball Change

Morgan and Courtney had their dance recital yesterday. They were in 3 acts; Thriller (totally the Michael Jackson, zombie dance..and it was CAAAA-YOOOOTTTTTT!!!), I Like to Move It (Yes, that annoying diddy from Madagascar made much more tolerable by the munchkins bustin' out the hip hop moves, including Morgan doing one of those crazy break dance floor spinny moves) and a tap dance routine to the Blue's Brother's "Soul Man".
Since this was Morgan's first dance recital, I had no idea what I was supposed to do to get her ready. Seriously, all the teacher's e-mails said things like "rules will be strictly enforced", "failure to do ____ will result in student not being allowed to participate", "Don't make me kill you". OK, I made up the last one, but you get the point. And one of those rules that if broken meant your kid, who has spent the past 9 months in class practicing, would not be allowed to perform in the recital was "no drinking at anytime during the 3 hour dress rehearsal". At first I was like, well duh, of course those little buggers can wait til after class to get their drink on. And then I found out she meant WATER. WHAT?!
Anyway, I quickly discovered I needed to purchase 3 ridiculously pricey dance outfits, special tights for each outfit, specific shoes and the night before the recital, spend 3 hours driving store to store looking for one certain kind of lipstick in colorblind-hooka-red. I kept repeating to myself that this was luckily a one time deal since Morgan had whined all year that she didn't want to ever do dance again (and yes, as Mother of the Year, I did make her complete the year because she had committed to it (read: I'd already paid for it).

This is where it would be super awesome to have pictures of them rockin' it out on stage... but after 3 weeks of the teacher asking for a volunteer to be a back stage room Mother, I finally was the sucker...errrr, I mean, volunteered. So I didn't actually get to see the show, but at least got to watch the girls' routines from backstage, and from what I could see, it was pretty darn cute!

At least my Mom got this post performance shot.


The girls did such a great job, but I was pretty relieved it was over.
And then, as we walked back to our car Morgan says, "I can't wait to start dance classes again!"
Ugh.
Of course. Better save that lipstick.

Always the Bad Sport

In case you should think that the picture of Storm giving the other riders a good ol' fashion raspberry was a fluke....

Bad sportsmanship is just part of his charm.

"Is the judge looking?"



"Pfffffttttt! Suckas!!!"


We love him anyways.

Bad Form, Storm!

My niece showed my Morgan horse, Storm, last weekend. She has shown my Arab, Mr. Dee, western for 5 years or so and now has switched to English with Storm. It's a whole new game but she's learned quickly... plus she's a great little rider.
Storm and Courtney did a great job! They're 2 for 2 with judges coming out and remarking that they make a great pair. It's true. They are both very focused, get the job done sort of personalities. Neither get rattled, or upset. And they're both smart with great work ethics. A good match indeed. So I was very proud when they earned Reserve Champion in their division!
And then I saw a major difference between the two....

Courtney accepted the honor graciously. She thanked the judge and her competitors.

While Storm on the other hand......



Bad form, Storm. Bad form indeed.

Update On the Baby-Mama-Drama

I finally got notice that the lady on Facebook, who happened to have the same name as my son's Birth Mother, accepted my plea for friend status! Yay. So last night I sent her a bumbling beat-around-the bush message. I mean, after all, what is the proper way to ask a complete stranger if they are your baby's Mama? So I decided to not ask her directly, but ask if she knew him and gave her his name and DOB.
Then I hit "send" and completely expected to wait another couple of months for a reply.
If I got a reply at all.
I was shocked this morning to have a message waiting for me. The amazing news is that she has the same name as his mother and she is in fact from Kyrgyzstan. This is what she wrote:

Hello, Mala!
I am sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have any idea who is this little boy. Any way, it's very nice to meet you. I hope you will find him.
At the moment I live in Malta, but very soon I am going back to Kyrgyzstan. If you want to ask me something else, do not hesitate, ask. Hopefully, I will be able to help you.
Take good care.
Best regards.
Jyldyza.

So it seems we have hit a dead end. But still, she sounds like a wonderfully sweet person and from all appearances, a good example of a fine young lady from Kyrgyzstan.

My Life with BonBons

If you ever want to see evil Mala make an appearance, utter this simple phrase; What did you do all day?
In less than a nanosecond my head will spin, my eyes become death rays, and I vomit green acidic substance while I claw your face off.
In other words, don't say that shit to me.
Dear ol' hubster took many a long years to figure this easy fact out.
I used to have a somewhat craptastic cubicle job selling equipment to TV stations before I gave birth to our daughter and we decided I would stay home and raise our child... oh and start and operate a horse farm, care for my niece daily, do the bookkeeping for my Father's trucking business, adopt our son, teach riding lessons, run a summer day camp and work out of the house as a wine consultant.
Ahhh the sweet life of a stay-at-home Mom; sitting on the couch all day, eating BonBons. So my husband thought. Almost daily he'd come home and his first words would be "what did you do all day?". I could have killed him... and I'm fairly certain no court of law would fault me for it.
Maybe it was that last cast iron fry pan I lobbed at his head, but he doesn't (dare) say that anymore.
No, now he's a bit more passive aggressive in his tactics.
Case in point: Today, amongst other things, I mowed, raked, weed-wacked and trimmed our lawn. No biggie, right? Well, right... but it's A LOT of lawn. Allow me to show you...

and....

don't forget around the barn....

and back by the garden...

And out front by the flower beds...

and up the driveway...

and that whole new area we just seeded by the boarder's parking lot...


You get the picture... lots of mowing, lots of wacking.
But I actually enjoy it because I think it looks really good after I'm done (you know, that sense of accomplishment... not like when I make dinner and everyone bitches and moans). Besides, if I don't do a great job, I'll have another chance in just SIX days when it all grows in again and looks all shaggy like we just up and abandoned the property.

Anyhoo, back to my point (you didn't think I had one, did ya! HA!), instead of coming home and ohhh'ing and ahhh'ing at my mad landscaping skillz, the hubs huffs and puffs, gets on his 'non-office, work clothes' and heads out to......

wait for it......

wait for it......

WEED WACK IN THE FREAKIN' DARK!!!!!!


I swear, for the sole purpose of being able to say, with truly exacerbated angst, he "finished the lawn"! What the..?!!!!

and this folks is why I drink!

I'm so proud....

I think I've arrived. When googling "tight jeans", right here on my little bloggy-boo, you will land. WOOT!

Seriously, I promise I'll get back to my real blog-duties soon.

Blame Samsmama

Damn if this song isn't stuck in my head now. So there's only one thing to do in this sort of situation, and that is to spread the love.
I LURVED this song back in the day! Catchy as hell.

I have the strongest urge to go You Tube some "Greatest American Hero" episodes now.

Craziness all up in here...

There be a full moon comin' on Sunday, but you could have fooled me cause I swear there's been a huge radioactive, madness-inducing full moon all up in here for a good week+. I won't get all into it right now because the urge to slit my wrists is too great and it's technically too early to crack open a bottle of wine. Which reminds me, my wine cellar is bare save for a few bottles of white that I've strategically drank around. GDMF!
And I swear it's not just me! Seems everyone I've talked to is suffering from the negative side-effects of the crazy pill (either themselves or consumed by those around them). Don't believe me? Look over there to the right, blog posts from my bloggy pals titled "WTF" FML" "Chopped and Screwed" "shoot me now" OK not really, I made that one up.. I was gonna use it for this post.
What. The. Hell.
Just seriously funked up deeds lately; certain members of my family getting hit by the wack-a-doo bus (or maybe they're driving it), my friend's son attempting suicide, my Beveroni's Dad, people at each other's throats, the lead singer of Cake yelling at us for 20 minutes because we couldn't identify a Tangerine tree! Seriously W. T. F.? And this is just the short list, but my blood pressure is making my temples throb so that's enough of that.
I've got plenty to be thankful for (yes, I keep repeating this in my head), good friends, awesome kids (oh yeah, by the way, it was Morgan's birthday last week. I would have blogged about the party...if I weren't neck high is freakin' BS drama), and I don't have a third arm growing out of my head... so I got that goin' for me. But I'm in a serious search for some good ol' fashion positive mojo. Or red wine.