FX Make-Up Tutorial #horror #ghost #localhistory

Make-Up Designer, Michael Meyer, shows off his talents & teaches director, Lia Dugal, how to make 17 year old Madeleine look like an aged ghost. Watch Cemetery Sisters on October 31st!

Pondering Gabby **Content Warning: Domestic Violence/Intimate Partner Violence**

 

This is the story of a girl,
Who cried a river and drowned the whole world!
And while she looked so sad in photographs,
I absolutely love her,
When she smiles...

Absolutely(Story Of A Girl)

Over the last several weeks, like the rest of America, I have been enthralled with the case of lost girl, Gabby Petito and her fiance', Brian Laundrie.  I have restrained myself from commenting, from making assumptions about what happened and why, merely for my own safety and sanity, because I was afraid to look back, remember, and reveal to myself and others just what I experienced specifically in intimate partner violence, as a survivor of domestic abuse.  In truth that has become a label that I carry with me as a token of understanding and solidarity with the wonderful friends I have connected with in my journey of healing, however, rarely do I take the time to truly remember the nightmare itself.  

Looking at the above picture these last few weeks have left me feeling stymied, as I know truly and personally the overwhelming craziness of which Gabby is in in that specific moment.  I have sought to block it out, to not think about it.  In truth, I thought of posting another photo of her, one of a happier moment, in fact, throughout this entry, I shall scatter a couple throughout of happier moments of Gabby, but I needed to post the above as the entry photo because I, personally, needed to look, to remind, to recall, and in that, to continue my healing journey, see the vastness of strength of myself and others who are victims of DV, feel gratitude for their companionship and support, and, finally,  help others.

I married him in 2011, he came back into my life in a whirlwind in 2010, I met him in 2003 at a small and infamous to my heart, cafe in my college town, wherein I spent a year with him and several other ragtag friends being young, carefree, exploring the far regions of our souls together.  He, not knowing what the hard reality of my battle with mental illness I had been through the years we were apart, the heartbreak of losing my youthful hope and idealism shattered with the truth of my dysfunction, and he, never keeping his own demons very much a secret yet only revealing that which he could use for a tool of manipulation, came back into my life in full force of love-bombing.  Although I had learned a lot in those early days of my recovery, I still had a journey to come in dealing with my issues related to traumatic abuse throughout my life, relationship addiction, and such still, at 30, romanticized love as the end-all be all, the American Dream of the Hollywood and Disney combined, to rescue me out of my darkness.

Our relationship lasted for just under a year before we decided to get married during which we spent much of it long distance, I was swept away by the idealistic love story, the one I believed him to be, us reuniting after several years of distance.  The first few months of our marriage seemed to be awash in wedded bliss of the newly married.  All things seemed to abruptly change, almost over night, in August of 2011, when after due to his paranoid delusions of undiagnosed and untreated possible schizophrenia, he had been convincing me that the world as we knew it was set to end on August 2 with a full government take-over.  And I, having spent the last several years in a fundamentalist Christian church that heavily taught the end times theology, was easily deceived.  But, when I woke up on August 2nd, ready to see what happened, with nothing occuring, I questioned him about this.  He, being caught in his own lie, used the tactic of gas-lighting to say, "I said it might, it might, I didn't say it actually would".  (A side note: he was completely convinced it was to happen.)  Thus, my first step in not believing him, that reality of what really happened or did not happen, on August 2, 2011, was the moment when the magic ended and the darker side of his persona was finally revealed.  (In a way, that day in August, a month I have had bad memories with, was my first step away from toxicity, a first alarm attempting to wake me up.)

It is important to note that domestic violence and abuse comes in a myriad of forms, not just singular to that of physical violence or even intimate partner.  Furthermore, it is a cold reality that women are not always the victim and men the abuser, it is at times the other way around yet it appears differently and male victims have a much harder time proving their abuse.  In addition, abusers can be from all forms of life, for my part, I have experienced abuse from church leaders, colleagues, friends, lovers, and more.  Today, though, in pondering Gabby, I wish to reflect upon the horrors I experienced while marriage, though I must admit that my ex-husband was not the only abusive partner I have experienced in my past.

After that fateful August 2nd, the abusive control steadily ramped up.  There were long days wherein he yelled at me for hours, accusing me of such atrocities like poisoning him, of being incapable, of being crazy.  These days I would sit frozen while his anger showered over me, cowering against the wall, sobbing for him to 'please stop', evading the various objects he threw about.  And, finally, as hours past, I was weakened to the place of complete passivity, he would hold my hand as we sat outside, him smoking, me feeling as if I was more at fault than I was for the days long rampage.  Other times, I would watch him sit, days and nights on end, barely moving to shower or eat, at his computer, diligently working on some random project or scouring the internet over and over for proof of his conspiracy which only ramped up the flood of abuse he would rage against me and others.  Moments of bliss were few and far between, and sadly at times, I reveled when he turned his rage against another, those times were rare but I was then his allie again, his support against the world, a reminder of what our love and promises we had shared in happier times, times of ignorant bliss.  There were times too still and all too quiet, the energy in the house so thick with the waiting...times when in discussion he would calmly state, "when I yell at you," as if it was just normal, once again something I had caused.  The happier times grew fewer and farther between.  Unlike Gabby, I, thankfully,did not have much physical abuse, if you don't count the times he threw items at me that caused bruising, both physical and emotional, although it was quickly increasing towards that.  I have a memory of him yelling at me in the kitchen, I turned around, and a hand fell hard on my back, I turned back to him and demanded to know what was that, he frightened claimed his hand just slipped...a time when his back to our room-mate, my reaching for him in tears over the loss of my grandfather, he pretending as if he lost his balance stumbling back but swiping his hand near me barely missing, yet somehow it looked as if I had pushed him...him pinning me down on the bed claiming that my comfort towards him was suffocating and thus he had to show me...then me, running to my neighbor's house, seemingly day or night, fleeing from him but seeing him stalking by out the window while I sobbed inside...him blaming me completely for his cat's death...I could go on...

The nights after I had kicked him out, my poor room-mate (not the same one mentioned previous) would often comfort me from nightmares where I would scream or cry out in my sleep, "it's okay," she would whisper, gently reaching over and touching my arm.  

All this is very real demonstration of the manipulative tactics I have experienced from my ex-husband as well as the myriad of other abusers who have come into my life.  I wonder if they study these or if its just a fact of their brain and thus psychologists have come up with these based on studies.   Nevertheless, each of these I have experienced in my marriage and in the variety of other relationships.   

Gas-lighting: This is a type of emotional abuse wherein an abuser lies or downplays the impact of an event or something they say. It could include phrases like “It’s not that bad” or “you’re over-reacting” or even, “I never said that”. All of this can create doubt in your mind, and the end goal is to ensure that you’re the “crazy” one for ever questioning his behaviour.

Isolation: Not only controlling where you goes and who you talks to, but controlling what you read, listen too, and watch on TV or online.
Over-Protection: Like refusing to let you go anywhere or do certain things because he’s “worried” for your safety.
Blaming Others: This is a classic abuse tactic. Perpetrators rarely take responsibility for their actions – often placing the blame on you for causing the way they acted.
Separation Abuse: This could include forms of stalking, especially after the relationship has ended. The perpetrator will continually send flowers, gifts, or other trinkets, which shows that he can always find her. This can be a particularly effective tactic, because from the outside, the gestures seem kind and caring.
Manipulation of Social Systems: Such as court systems or CAS. This is a way of wielding systemic power over you, and the consequences are dire (such as custody of children).
Emotional Manipulation: Being on a “roller-coaster” emotionally with him. One moment he’s loving, kind and caring; the next he’s angry and aggressive. Women often say they feel like their “walking on eggshells” in their own home, to keep from trying to set off the abuser. This could also include things like degradation and undercutting your achievements, making you feel bad about yourself.
Threats: Making threats to harm your family, friends, and pets (this is extremely common, and is a huge barrier for women trying to leave the relationship).
Financial Abuse: Making sure you have zero control, knowledge or access to finances. Also a large barrier for women leaving the relationship. Often women must choose to stay, and live in violence, or leave and live in poverty.
Cyber Abuse and Cyber Stalking: This is such a wide topic, and has many different ways of appearing. It can include things like abusers posting your personal information online (address, phone number, etc), spreading rumours or photos, creating fake email addresses so you can’t block him, etc. All of these tactics are designed to humiliate, as well as take away your sense of security and privacy. Cyber abuse can also include hacking, stealing passwords, reading emails, forcing her to be available to him at all times, telling her who she can and can’t interact with through social media. (https://speakoutloud.net/intimate-partner-abuse/cyber-bullying ) It’s important to know that it’s impossible to keep yourself safe online. However, there are some things you can do to mitigate risk. If you are experiencing any of these types of abuse, please give us a call and we’ll support you in whatever way you need.

Taken from the website article: https://wrrcsa.org/education/how-to-hide-your-tracks-online/

Several of these, such as gas-lighting, isolation, blaming, and emotional manipulation, my ex-husband used to control me. Others have been used to some degree in other abusive relationships. Admittedly, I do see these used in Gabby's relationship with her abuser, most notably is that of isolation, continuously separating her from her loved ones whether it be to Florida or the van life. The saddest thing to note in this is that Gabby never got herself out, she never escaped. She will never know the true joy in life of healing from such horror, seeing the beauty of life in the simplicity of every day, of the connections made through the recovery journey through facebook and social media groups, connections with those walking the path out, and, for me, the dear sweet connection I have with my friend, my co-ex-wife (my partner's first wife), and his ex-girlfriend. There is such power in connecting with someone who knows almost completely what you experienced.

In the last few weeks I have been thinking upon my journey out of domestic abuse and that of those who have recovered with me and helped in my healing process. I have thought about my co-ex-wife and how she was of the same age range Gabby was when she got away from our mutual ex-husband. I think about the reasons she was able to do so was that she had this great source of love given to her by those around that developed in her an inner strength and resolve that helped her break free, and still does to this day. Not just her, but many, at whatever age that have broken free from the confines of abuse whatever it may be, it's the real love that may not be readily seen that provides the strength to be free. It's with such sadness that Gabby was never able to realize that and her death brings to mind the truth that myself, my co-ex-wife, my mutual ex-boyfriend friend, the many others who I have met through social media support groups, and so many could suffer the similar fate of Gabby Petito.

Upon writing this, I ask myself, why? why was I freed when she was not? Whatever you believe about life and what comes next, one source of some comfort comes in the notion that we choose a soul contract, a purpose for this life. I look at my relationship with my ex-husband beginning with our wild days at the cafe along side some other dear souls, including that of my other crush, the red-headed barista. At that time, I almost chose to go down the path of romance with the barista and often ponder how my life would have differed if I had. But I believe that my soul had a contract with my ex-husband, that his demons were refuge for me to hide from my own, and by being united with him for a time, I was able to discover that which I was afraid to look at and find the strength to heal and break free. It is only now that my light shines bright after years and years of recovery from trauma (with more to follow) that I am able to sit with the light of the red-head, to be able to explore those feelings I ran from for so long, in this little poly hinge triad situation we find ourselves within. What is the soul contract I have with him is something far more positive than the ex-husband and yet still to be known.

It was with that that perhaps Gabby had a soul contract alongside her fiance' to be a source of awakening, a chain breaker, an alarm clock finally ringing.  It is my hope that her life and the bright light she shone forth will not be in vain, that she will raise awareness for the many other women, men, and children gone missing in that region and beyond, as well she will become the face of domestic violence awareness, perhaps helping someone trapped in a similar relationship see that what occured for Gabby is highly probable for them.  

Let It Be

And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree

There will be an answer, let it be

For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see

There will be an answer, let it be

National Domestic Violence Hotline

National Missing & Unidentified Persons System

https://gabbypetitofoundation.org/

Journaling Through The Years Episode 13: There was always love.

In this episode, I start a new journal and make a discover that my foundation for unconditional love in my high school years was realized in a very safe space of my youth, that which has shaped who I am to this day.

How We Thrive Episode Two: Marcus Hardesty

In this episode, we learn how barber & actor, Marcus Hardesty, has found his thrive & continues to grow!

Enjoy The Soundtrack of Nate & Laura Season Two

Purchase CD at https://py.pl/6R6AmRNwyMG $5 plus shipping. Proceeds from sales to be divided between Cafe-Girl, Inc, Jen Ambrose, Delphi Ravens, Chance Larsen, & Roywn Lucca. Soundtrack includes portions of music provided by: 1.) Shine With The Sun Instrumental--Written & Performed by Jen Ambrose 2.) Softer--Written & Performed by Rowyn Lucca 3.) Hardest Good-Bye--Written by Stephen Andrew Burgess, Performed by Delphi Ravens 4.) Pick Your Love Up Off The Ground--Written & Performed by Jen Ambrose 5.) Honesty Is Scary--Written & Performed by Rowyn Lucca 6.) Road Of Life--Written & Performed by Jen Ambrose 7.) Out Of The Shadows--Written by Chance Larsen, Performed by Jen Ambrose 8.) Shine With The Sun, Written by Jen Ambrose, Performed by Lia Rose Dugal Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc, has non-exclusive rights for this album.

Journaling Through The Years, Episode Twelve: So, what's love, really?

In this episode, my 15 year old self attempts to explain the definition of love and share why people need people. You will also learn the alternatives to "pinky promise". Watch & learn! (If nothing else, watch to the end for the pretty kitty.)

Purely FanFiction from the 90210 Fan Girl

 The following is the exerpt from Brenda Walsh-McKay's journal:

Here's how it went down.  So, Dylan and Kelly got married in 2002, together they had Sammy, an adorable little child.  However, as much as the two loved each other, they found that marriage was not meant for them.  They continue to work to co-parent their beautiful child.  

After the marriage dissolved, Dylan took to the road for awhile to find himself through traveling, as he always had been.  I hadn't heard or seen him since I left Southern California way back in the nineties, preferring to put that time out of my life.  My brother, Brandon, had kept me in the know as much as possible, but I never insisted, only wanting to know what was pertinent to our family.  However, at the death of our father, who passed shortly after our mother two years previous, I did ask Brandon for updates on all my former high school classmates.  Kelly was still living in Beverly Hills working  as a life coach, Steve was happily married with Janet and with several children.  Donna and David were still going strong.  Andrea was happily divorced and pursuing her career as a screenwriter.  Dylan, although he kept in regular touch with his son, was whereabouts unknown to the rest.  Hearing his name brought back a pang to my heart, surprising to me that after all these times he still had that affect  upon me.

I went back to England where I have been working within the theatre and art world.  One day I was busy at my administrative job at the art studio when my assistant informed me I had a visitor in the front.  I asked her the name and she replied simply, "A Dylan McKay".  Shocked, I hurried down the stairs unbelieving that it could actually be him.

But, there he was, standing in the foyor, looking around and when I walked in, he turned to face me.  I took him in then, once again.  Although time had passed over his face, well-worn it was with the history of his life, he was still my Dylan, still the smoldering charm I had fallen for so many years ago, but somehow that demeanor had softened.   Upon seeing me, his arms opened and into them I ran, smelling the warmth of him as he embraced.  The above selfie was taken in that happiest of moments.  We agreed to meet after I finished my shift for dinner.  As he walked out the door, he turned, with a twinkle in his eye, and marveled at how I had grown to be such a metropolitan Londoner, he still considered himself the rough and tumble bad boy on the motorcycle.  Laughing we recalled the bad blonde job I had had when he and I chatted on that street nearby my Beverly Hills home.

Later at dinner, we caught each other up on the recent news from home.  He was heartbroken over the loss of Jim and Cindy, who he had always considered parents' of his own, stable, loving, always there, and full of nonjudgment.  After dinner, we walked arm in arm through the city catching each other up on all our times personally in recent years.  Surprisingly, we found each other both single at that time and suddenly in that instant realized why relationships had always found themselves going sour, it was each other we were meant for.

We spent three beautiful months basking in the warmth of rekindled love, of which I wish not to give too many details, for this at once I wish to keep private, not on display for the world's eye to capture.  Close to the end of that third month, Dylan expressed his desire to 'make me an honest woman' and capture me forever as 'his little woman'.  Knowingly, Dylan this was meant in jest but the desire to wed was simply both something we wanted.

It was a small affair.  Due to my father's demise, it was Brandon who walked me down the aisle towards my forever love, Brandon who gave me to Dylan, which feels so exactly right when I think upon it.  Kelly and Donna were there and the night previous we had a quiet girl's night similar to old times, yet the years had weathered any bad blood between us and we found in each other the wisdom of maturity that enhanced our love and friendship.  Steve and Andrea, unable to get away from their work in time, watched by zoom call.  All the modern times.

We had four wonderful years together, filled with much growth of our souls personally and united.  We enjoyed having Sammy into our home for holidays as well as welcomed Kelly, an untraditional happy little family.  

However, in the fifth year of our wedded bliss, my Dylan was diagnosed with colon cancer and at the time too far gone, not caught in time.  Dylan and I had six months together before he breathed his last, laying beside me in bed, holding my hand until the last.

I wish to share this not to wound with such sad tidings, but only to express the reality that true love is a reality, is not what I had dreamt and believed as a young teenager, and is expressed far beyond what is visible within our scope of reality.  My union with Dylan continues even though his physical absense and I still see him everywhere, as well as feel him with me at all times, as I always have.

Believe in love, not merely the romantic, but the true power of it all, that will sustain throughout all the hardships and heartbreaks of life's journey, that which is brought upon by our own frailties and also the needed lessons to help us evolve to our most highest selves. 

My Self Employed Life & How I Thrive

 

My life may not be conventional but that means not that it is not busy.  Increasingly, I am finding satisfaction and fulfillment working the gigworker full-time, having an intense workload with all my various paid for hire activities that it all adds up to the full-time affair.  Furthermore, my bank accounts remain faithfully in the black and living within my means begins to increase higher as I decrease my overall debt.

That said, it isn't necessary a path for all.  Some may thrive within the framework of the traditional 9-5, as it were, or rather working for an established business wherein an an employer defines the schedule for the employee.  I am one that did not thrive in this societally approved established way of living, in fact, I lost my mind and was given the diagnosis of bipolar, unable to work the norm due to not being able to handle the stress of it all.

Disability does not cover all my expenses, both the monthly bills and the debt to be paid off, not to mention, you know, good ol' fashion fun, nor do merely pursuing the creative pursuits.  For a year, I attempted to make my way following the path merely of creativity and found that the strain and constant anxiety of not having the regular income to care for my day to day needs over-weighed my ability to create.  Thus, I had to return to the paid gig life and what I then discovered was the balance of producing the content through my creativity and scheduling the time for the many 'money-making' jobs helped secure my overall sense of self worth and peace of mind.  

And, a balance it is,with two planners, one large and one small, and a wall calendar, each filled with markings of dates of employment and other necessary appointments, a myriad of spreadsheets managing my in-flow and out-flow of expenses as well as one for all my debts.  In addition to my 'money-making' and personal expenses, I have a multitude of spreadsheet related to my self-employed pursuits as a film producer and entrepreneur extraordinaire.  

As I increasingly find peace in this destined, long sought after, and finally attained path, I have discovered the art of clearly defining my personal daily and weekly schedule.  EX: I wake up with a clear focus on what I need to accomplish for the day, the week, and the month, a regular list on a 3X4 card on my desk that I check off as I finish a task, filled with the dogwalks, modeling appointments, as well as the entrepeneurial tasks such as monthly newsletters, scheduling rehearsals and film shoots, and content creation for both short-term and long-term projects.  Through all of this, I have discovered what fits for me personally, starting my work day with the variety of tasks around 8:00 am and ending around 6:00 pm; Yes, that's right, coming to a clear time when my brain decides it can do no more of this computer type busyness and must allow itself to freely fall into the evening activity without a care or concern related to the business mind present.

All that success mentioned, I still have moments of anxiety when the income seems to be trickling in slower yet with that there is increasingly less of a worry with the reality that I now always have a means of making the buck, bringing home the bacon, etc, etc etc.  With that, the breath of fresh air is achieved and back I dive into the day's focus.  

In truth, I could not think of a more happier time spent, a life that I was meant for, not the normal daily grind of the rest of American society, due to my health conditions physical and mental that cause some delay in my productivity at times.  I do at times feel the backlash and judgment of the outside world, who see my work as little value because it nor I fit in with the assigned normalcy of career and employment.  This is increasingly becoming less of an occurrence due to this post-Covid-19 reality of which we find ourselves within, wherein many are having to hustle into the gig-worker life to continue to survive, or more hopefully, to thrive. 

However, I do still feel a bit of a pushback when a person employed by the established environ of normalcy has a day off and wants to 'go do something' or the times when I get a message or phone call requesting 'to come and play', a sense of frustration comes across when said individual hears me say, "Sorry, I'm busy," with the underlying 'what do you have going on, your schedule is flexible' theme.  

Yes, my schedule is flexible, but it is, as mentioned above, clearly structurally defined by myself for optimal successful thriving.  Furthermore, I have set aside the days of Saturday and Sunday as non-computer and other work time, in which I attend to the house chores, read, relax, and find time to play.  

I will allow the reality that I have a tendency towards rigidity in my life, a means from the past in order to give some sense of false security and thus something I am continuously striving to lessen the hold.  In addition, with one partner whose days off are currently Tuesday and Wednesday, I must allow sometime for us to truly connect and have scheduled date time for the health of our relationship.  The other partner's days' off are equal to mine.  Thus, living the polyamorous life as a gig-worker is even harder finding ways to balance time for work duty, relationship health commitments, as well as time to love the hell out of friends.

So, at last, what it comes down to, is that life is what one makes of it, one's path is one's to follow towards the highest fullfillment of wholeness of healing and evolution.

. 

What I choose to do
Is of no concern to you
And your friends

                                                                            My Life

Journaling Through The Years Episode 11: Change The Scene!

In Retrospect: 2019; Refining Fire Cleansing Towards Wholeness

 

I have often taken the time in recent entries to reflect on the changing tides of life, both personally and collectively, within the confines of 2020 and beyond.  However, we could not have had such without the years previous.  For me, the year that stood out as full of tumultous life change was that of 2019.

In numerology, the year 2019 adds up to 12, then ends up as a 3 and a 3 year is one that emphasizes creative self expression and emotional sensitivity.  In an article written at the beginning of 2019,(https://astrostyle.com/2019-numerology/) it states that the intention of the year was to 'speak one's truth' without lessening the truth of another.  For me personally, in retrospect, I see now how that 3 energy affected the external outcomes of my internal reality, long buried in need of overflowing outpouring, affecting my decisions that influenced my relationship and circumstance shifts.  I clearly see and understand now, but at the time the element of tumult was such a heavy influence that it left a degree of shaky unease, reflecting in a marked degree of secrecy and codependency.

In my former life of 'fundaze', aka fundamentalist Christianity, we were often taught about the refining fire of God's cleansing.  Truth be told, this is a point of teaching that is not singular to any branch of Christianity alone, but is taught within all variety of spirituality and life itself.  The basic premise being that in times of tumult, as in walking through our own 'fiery furnace', we are refined like silver, cleansed from the draught, that which we need to release, that which no longer serves, so that we can move forward unto our truest and most divine self, whole, complete, who we were always forever meant to be.

Looking back, it is easy to write poetically about such a time of my life.  A time when I had bravely stood up to friendships that were proving toxic for all involved, but mostly for me, and dealt with the backlash of anger, resentment, heartbreak, my own as well as the friends' and family departed.  My financial situation was in dangerous precarity due to ultimately my bad decision making, planning poorly executed, as well as lack of self worth within.  In addition, my beloved sonic lost its engine and power due to a bad mechanic job I did myself.  

Thus, like the fire of refinement, many aspects of my life that I had held as some sort of security blanket and normacly, were being stripped away.  Desperately I clung to that which was fading away, which had ceased to serve, but still I desired to remain, somewhat fearful of who I would be without, what was to come of me without.  

But, at last, I relented.  

Seemingly, left abandoned by those of which my love remains, feeling empty and desperate, I surrendered to the inevitable.  In that place of humility, I began anew, not clinging to the hope of an external savior, but discovering my innermost strength to merely not to survive, but to thrive beyond circumstance.  The cleansing fires allowed that which was toxic to dissipate and be vanquished, leaving my eyes clear with renewed vision of who and what truly matters, that had always been there, shining beacons of love, inspiration, and dedication, guiding me to persevere and truly discover my confidence and worthiness within.

With that, I stood back up, steadied myself on shaky feet, and continued forth the climb.  On that plane of my own destruction, I rose again like the phoenix, rebuilding my own life in a way more beautiful than ever imagined, that which is becoming clearer, more whole and healthy, more truly me.

Sunrise, Norah Jones

Sunrise, sunrise

Looks like mornin' in your eyes

But the clock's held 9:15 for hours

Sunrise, sunrise

Couldn't tempt us if it tried

'Cause the afternoon's already come and gone

Surprise, surprise

Couldn't find it in your eyes

But I'm sure it's written all over my face

Surprise, surprise

Never something I could hide

When I see we made it through another day

Old Farm House

New series "Out & About, Exploring" first episode 

Journaling Through The Years: Episode 10: Sadness & Nostalgia & A little...