Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Friday, January 2, 2015

Your Heart And My Heart Are Very, Very Old Friends.


Fear is the cheapest room in the house
I would like to see you living
In better conditions,
For your mother and my mother
Were friends.
I know the Innkeeper
In this part of the universe.
Get some rest tonight
Come to my verse again tomorrow.
We’ll go speak to the Friend together.
I should not make any promises right now,
But I know if you pray
Somewhere in this world-
Something good will happen.
God wants us to see
More love and playfulness in your eyes
For that is your greatest witness to Him.
Your soul and my soul
Once sat together in the Beloved’s womb
Playing footsie. Your heart and my heart
Are very, very old friends.
– Hafiz



It's funny to think that I was born when Millie was 59...And She knew me from practically the beginning of my life. I had my first birthday in the house across the street from hers. And if I think about the possibilities of who I have yet to meet and love in my life, it is kind of amazing. I could be like Millie one day...and one of my dearest old friends might not even be born yet. They might not even get here in the next two decades. -Kind of amazing when I think about it.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Millie Meets Mr. Piccolo and The Cute Boy

I got to see Millie yesterday! And it was so good for my heart. It felt like coming home. Isn't it funny how the people we love the most in life, have that wonderful feeling of *home*. Just holding them, smiling, and being in their presence, is like a thousand home-cooked meals, Christmas mornings, and fires in the fireplace all wrapped up in one simple hug.  The Cute Boy and I went to the dog park with Mr. Piccolo 
and afterwards, we stopped by the nursing home that Millie is in. We brought Mr. Piccolo in to meet her, and immediately, all of the old people in the living room perked up when they saw "the puppy". There were so many smiling and eager faces. Even the woman who runs the place, came out to see him. We went to Millie's room to visit. And she sat down on the bed and cradled Mr. Piccolo. He didn't squirm or try to get away. In fact, he just relaxed and settled in. He was tuckered out from all of his running and playing at the dog park. And there's something about the energy of old people. It's sweet and safe. Calm and comforting. Ceci knew that Millie's arms were a safe place to be in and rest, so he closed his eyes and took a nap. 
"I want a puppy." Millie said. It's a universal truth shared between children and old people -everyone wants a puppy. When you let down your guard, and are open to what your heart really wants...at the end of the day, don't be surprised if "Puppy" is on the list. 
I told Millie that I would bring him back to visit again. Some time this week, I'm going to go back and paint her nails. She was really excited about this prospect. I realize my nail colors are a little limited right now. I just got 3 awesome O.P.I nail colors from a makeup artist friend of mine who was clearing out her stash. But they're all unusual and youthful colors like blue and milky white, named things like "Club Scene Queen". "Club Scene Queen" -that would be perfect for Millie wouldn't it? ;) I'll bring all of my colors and let her pick whatever she likes. She's getting up there in years now; in her upper ninety's. I think a little metallic disco blue would be nice. 

Friday, March 16, 2012

Day Thirteen of the Juice Fast

Today, I cooked. I'm still juicing today, but I felt in control enough to actually set to work in the kitchen and make two big pots of ox tail stew with fresh pinto beans. They're on the stove right now cooking over a low simmer, and should be done in about three more hours. I haven't made this recipe since I was a teenager, but I felt confident that I could still make it from scratch, seeing as it was a general staple in my house growing up. My grandparents, who are originally from the Southwest and lived for many years in Colorado, had a large pot of this on their stove year round. It's actually a pretty healthy and tasty dish. It's filling and provides a lot of plant based protein, so I'm making it for my Cute Boy to nosh on while I continue on with the juice fast. 

For dinner, I also made him some light fluffy scrambled eggs and oatmeal buttermilk pancakes. I'm freezing the rest so he and the 'mates can have quick easy healthy breakfasts available. 

Now one would think that all of this cooking would send me into a rabid food frenzy, but strangely, it's just the opposite. I love to cook. Moreover, I love to feed and nourish the people that I love. It makes me feel good to take good care of them. I will admit, it's a comfort to me. It's one of the more pleasant memories and habits that formed over the  many years I spent caring for, and fattening up my terminally ill mother. And now that she's gone, it comforts me to be able to cook for others. I guess in some way, some part of me, imagines that she is still here somewhere...waiting for dinner. :) (Oh how I wish!) But even though she's not here to taste the food, I can still picture what she would say if she were here. She'd smell the fresh garlic and onions cooking, and turn the stew with the ladle to see how it was coming along. And right after her first bite, she'd say with enthusiasm "MmmmMmmm Mmmmmmm!" And now, the Cute Boy does it; and that fills my cup with love. 

An interesting side note about juicing in the midst of a kitchen full of tasty rich smells and food...the freshness of the juice was actually very nice. And I found myself happy to have it instead of something heavy. 

Things I learned today:

  1. Juicing continues to get easier. 
  2. Cooking gives me comfort and helps me de-stress, even if the food is not consumed by me. 
  3. My heart needs people to love and people to feed. I guess this means I have the soul of a true cook. :)

Friday, November 18, 2011

Just Be Yourself


Here's a tip: 
In reality...real people fuck up. 
All. 
The. 
Time. 

And we all know this. Just from our own experiences living life, we know this. So why are we so worried about it? Why get so freaked out when we drop the ball? Or look a little awkward? Or attempt something and fail? Why try to deny the truth, that sometimes we're wrong and make mistakes? Doesn't it seem better to be a little more open and honest with who you are and what you think? Maybe make the daring risk to be wholly yourself, and hope that maybe, just maybe people will like you for who you really are? And that's not to say that people don't employ this kind of mentality in their personal lives. I think many do. But there seems to be a distinct disconnect and compartmentalization of who we are when we enter the work arena, or the dating arena, and church, and who we are when we're more comfortable and either alone or with our best friends. When the stakes are high and the political climate is uncertain, most people pull back and damp down their inner glow and just try to blend in. -Be like everyone else. And I think this is a mistake. I think first and foremost, we should be striving to think for ourselves. Know who we really are and what we personally think and feel. And then to share that wisdom and inner truth with the world. Just let your light shine! 

In my most recent romantic relationship, one of the things that I love most is getting to know my boyfriend better. I had described my feelings relating to this to a friend of mine. It was early on in the relationship, and we had just reached a hallmark moment. I was on my period, and my boyfriend had offered to go to the store to pick up tampons and ice-cream for me. “He had me at tampons and ice-cream” I told my friend. It was so true. Now bear in mind, I was the kind of girl who used to have to go to the store for maxipads and tampons and feel compelled to buy “something else” just to cover up the fact that I was really just there for period supplies because world, yes...I was on my period and was gushing torrents. It was so embarrassing to me that I would try to cover up the big package of Always with *wings*, with a few carrots. I would put the carrots right on top like teen-girl-period-camouflage. 

“You do not see these tampons and maxipads. These aren't the droids you're looking for.” 

Needless to say, my tampon mind  tricks fooled no one. But I guess it made me feel better at the time and a little less embarrassed. When The Cute Boy offered to “man up” and get my “lady supplies” for me, he instantly won about a million kajillion love-points with me. It was a very simple yet loving gesture on his behalf. I went onto described it to my friend like this: “I loved how it was not a big deal to him...and there are so many moments of connection and intimacy. Open conversation. And that beautiful thing...where we explore the world and ideas together through conversation. To share a part of yourself with another human being. To be. To simply strive to be and to keep being -open. A sincere honesty of the soul. Kind of like 'Here we are...two beings in the universe and this is who I am.'” I went onto say that “ I am being so open and honest with MacArthur in large part because I know how honesty is the key to being known. It's prime for connection. Intimacy. True acceptance. Real love. In order to let someone into your heart you have to be honest with them about who you are. What your faults are. What your dreams and goals are. What you're struggling with. And where you are headed in life. I also have learned that it's simply worth it to make that risk...I've come away from the experience firmly knowing in my heart how important honesty is in a friendship and primary relationship. In so many ways...It's also simply good to be authentic because then I have *the chance* to even be loved. To be seen for who I am. And loved for the unique creature that is me. -There's grace in that. True grace in that feeling...of being known and loved.” Sorry if this is repetitive. But for me, I just kept coming back to the same points and it was like a revelation for me. It felt good. I was in an exciting place in my life, filled with soul baring honesty, and with that came a certain amount of vulnerability. I was trusting those around me to be good to me. I was showing my boyfriend my soft underbelly and trusting that he would be gentle and kind. And he was. And he is. And I count myself lucky to be known and loved the way that I am. It feels so good, that it's leaking over into other parts of my life. 

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

An Evening In With The Hounds

J-Lo came bounding into my bedroom tonight, proudly carrying the dried tortilla I gave to her this morning, after it fell on the floor while making breakfast. "Come here Pretty Girl." Her brown eyes darted in my direction but she didn't move. Skimper-Scamper came merrily over into the circle between my legs, where I had patted the bed cover and invited Ms. Lo. I crawled down to the foot of the bed and encircled the sleek elegant dog in my arms. She needed love. I hugged her, laying my head on her backside and scruffed up her neck the way she likes. She moaned at me, like she wanted something or was not quite happy with the situation with the puppy, but I just kept on loving on her and telling her what a good dog she was. I leaned down and inspected her tortilla, half-eaten, and quickly becoming brittle and air dried. I broke off a small piece and offered it to her, but she didn't want it. The tortilla had become more of a trophy. Kind of like a shiny red toy fire engine that one kid gets to flaunt in front of the other. When she turned away from the morsel, I offered it to Cecino. He voraciously munched away at it, immediately drawing the attention of the Whippet. She moaned again, as if to tell me how dismayed she was that I gave it to him. I snuggled up again to her and told her it was all right. She could share. Slowly, the puppy came gently creeping up on my right side. At first he just sat there quietly, intently eyeing me and Ms. Lo. Then he crept forward some more gently sniffing her feet while I pet her. Eventually, he got close enough to nose her tummy, and then he did this thing that I had seen him do before, but didn't understand until now. His tongue came out and he gently prodded her nipple, attempting to urge out some milk. She moaned again, this time at him. He stopped. But came back and tried kissing her tummy-tum again. I had seen him do this, but I always thought it was just a gentle sign of affection. I was never close enough to notice that he was lapping at her teat. J-Lo's never had puppies. And her nipples are barely even there. But this puppy was trying to suckle at her belly. I had witnessed him air-suckling in his sleep before. Poor little one. Poor Ms. Lo too! No wonder she gets snappy with him sometimes. Dear dear puppies. How I do love you.

I have been digging out things from my freezer, working my way through the still edible yet mysterious items. Last evening, I boiled up 4 Cornish game hens. I had bought a bunch of them FIVE years ago! My mom and I had our share, but the last 4 were buried deep in the back of my freezer taking up valuable real estate. The hens had been wrapped in that thick industrial shrink wrap that turkeys come in, and then packaged and wrapped again. They didn't have freezer burn, and smelled just fine when I defrosted them. But still, five years is a long time, and I knew that I wasn't going to be willing to eat them. So I boiled them up for the hounds. They know this drill because every once in a while, when I get a good deal on chicken (usually thigh meat), I'll boil up a big stock pot of it for them and then shred the chicken, discarding the skin and bones. Then I'll take the chicken stock and make a big pot of rice for them. Monica taught me how to do this. It's great! And the dogs love it. I mix it in with some of their dry kibble and some cottage cheese. I fed them the feast last night. From the looks of it, they'll be feasting for a while on the two stock pots of home made dog food. 

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Dry Earth

My life feels like hard earth right now. Earth, that has not grown a seed in a very long time. Dry. Ungiving. Parched and thirsty. Dense and difficult to change. Difficult to break into and move. But even so...I will work to water this dry earth. Giving it the love and water that it needs. Softening it with my belief and encouragement. Loving it when it is dry. And knowing that in time, it will soften. That I can enrich it with my life's experience. Fertilize it. Deepen the softness. Pull up the soft earth. Bringing air and life into it once again. Be patient. Real happiness is coming.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

George Is Missing

Last Sunday, I spoke with George in the evening. His foot hadn't been healing (he's diabetic), and the doctor told him to stay off of it. Then he told me that his vision had faded out to black in one eye, which *really* worried me. "Um...George? Do you want me to take you to the emergency room?"

"No, no. I'm going to make an emergency appointment with my specialist on Monday. I'll call first thing tomorrow morning and get in. I'll call you on Monday or Tuesday to let you know how it goes." -He didn't want to go to the emergency room because he figured that they wouldn't be of much use. That they probably wouldn't know what was up with his vision and that they wouldn't have a specialist on hand over the weekend. After thinking about the many times that I took my mom to the hospital, and how frustrating it would be having to explain and get the emergency room staff up on my mothers condition, I thought about it and decided that George was probably right.

George is a very practical man. When you call him, and get his answering machine (and yes...he has an *actual* machine in his apartment) the recording that you get says: "Leave your message after the beep." That's it. Straight forward. Simple. Clear. He's the kind of man who calls when he says he will call. Shows up when he says he will be there. He's steadfast and reliable. So when he didn't call me on Monday or Tuesday to let me know how he was, I began calling him. It's now Saturday. And I still haven't heard from him. On Friday I called the hospital that he usually goes to. This morning, when I still hadn't heard from him, I called all of the other hospitals in the city as well. Then I called the police department to do a welfare check. My friend Katy, who is a social worker advised this. She told me exactly what to say to make sure that someone actually does go down and do a check. She told me things that I wouldn't think to emphasize. Wouldn't *know* to emphasize...how would I really? I've never done this sort of thing before. She told me to tell them that he's old, the last time I spoke with him he was sick and was going to go to the hospital, that he has no family, no one to make sure he's OK, and that this is very unusual behavior. That I speak to him *all the time* and that I haven't been able to get a hold of him since Sunday. That he would call. That he always calls.

To the credit of the San Francisco Police Department, they listened. From the initial officer who took the non-emergency call that I placed, to the street cop who called me back shortly thereafter. They followed up promptly. They contacted the owner of the building, and unfortunately, everyone who has a key to George's apartment is in L.A. this weekend. :p But they also spoke with his neighbors, and they said that he usually leaves his shoes outside of his apartment door. The officer said that there was a pair of Crocs (oh George...Crocs? :)) outside of his door, but that his neighbor said that he wears other shoes when he goes out and that they were missing. "That's a good sign right?" I said. The officer wasn't sure and asked me if I wanted them to break down his door. I really am not sure. I don't want to make the wrong call on this one. He very well could be in a diabetic coma in his apartment, slowly dying. That thought has crossed my mind. Or he could be in a hospital somewhere...and maybe through some clerical error or perhaps the person not hearing me clearly, when I called to see if they had a patient with his name...he didn't show up? But was actually there??? Or maybe he's dead, which is *why* they don't *currently* have a patient by his name? Or maybe he's at a friend's house, being taken care of because he was too sick to care for himself? I honestly don't know. Or he could be just fine (fingers crossed) and in a very out of character manner has simply forgone checking his answering machine or calling me like he usually does? -Yeah...that last one is not likely...but I hope it's what has happened. The police officer told me that if I wanted them to break down his door, that someone would have to be there to take responsibility and secure his apartment. -makes sense. Glad to see that they won't just break down a door and leave it unlocked. :p I'm waiting a bit longer. If I don't hear from George today, then I will do it. The logical part of me says so many things. I'm not sure what to do really. I don't want to break George's door down and have him come wandering back home. But I *really* don't want to do nothing when he needs me. ...And what if I already have? What if I should have broken his door down on Wednesday? I have a horrible feeling inside of me. ...Of "What if?" What if...George is dead? How am I going to handle it? How am I going to reconcile myself with that, knowing that I may have acted too late? What if...we break down his door and actually find him?

Please George...Just be OK?

Friday, July 29, 2011

Letting Go A Little More...

So we (MacArthur and I) went out to the ocean today and scattered some of my mother's ashes. We hiked down to a beautiful small cove and said a few words. It was a strange combination of heavy, painful, and freeing. Such a weight was lifted when it was all done.

On the drive out to the beach, I was quiet. First, I got a call from Noreen (FHA president). She asked me how I was doing, and was actually very nice. I was glad I got a chance to connect with her, specifically *not* as her employee. For so many years, I worked for her, in such fear because of the things that my supervisor would say. She created an atmosphere of fear. I never really got to see Noreen as a whole person. As a human. I remember the guidance that I got from Niki was to keep under her radar. She made it seem like Noreen was a fire breathing dragon. When in fact, she's actually a very nice person. I mean she's just a normal human being. Powerful -yes. But that is *not* a bad thing. It's encouraging. I am always inspired when I get to see a strong woman in action. It's empowering *to me*. It helps me see that "I can do that too"! That I can develop those leadership qualities in me and help empower others (both women *and* men) in the world.

The next call I got on the way out... was from a gentleman from the cemetery. He told me that they had gotten the permit in sooner than anticipated, for my mother's burial, and that we could do it on Monday. So we moved it up a day.

The sooner the better is now my attitude. I realize that I have been carrying this enormous weight this last year. So much grief. So much seriousness and sadness. I feel like I have been dying slowly. On Monday, when we lay to rest, the remainder of my mother's ashes, I anticipate that it will not only feel like a relief and give my heart some peace and rest; but that it will also be somewhat like a symbolic death and burial of the last vestiges of the me that was before. The last of the old me. The child that could never imagine this kind of tragedy, or living past it alone. It's time to live. To embrace *living* -with joy. -Even without my mother. I'm kind of like a begrudging little caterpillar...that didn't really want to shed it's cocoon and blossom. I really didn't. I wanted to stay a caterpillar. Comfortable and loved by all of my caterpillar friends and family. But that's not how life worked out. I keep telling myself though that: this is a great opportunity to forge my life into whatever my heart desires. I'm casting off everything that I've ever known. Losing everything. Having my heart and family torn away. But having the space and opportunity to build a new life. Develop deeper relationships with distant family members and making them *not so distant*. -Close even. And I am so grateful for all of the people who have loved me through my darkness. And through my sadness. George, my mother's best friend, has always been a source of encouragement, strength, and laughter; which in my opinion is completely necessary for surviving the Spanish Inquisition. "No one *expects* The Spanish Inquisition" they say...but it happens to us all at one time or another in life. Heartbreak is part of being human. It's part of loving. And I guess it's worth it.

I felt so close to MacArthur today. So lucky that he is my love. And so sheltered from the storm by his love. Jodi put it well, when she said "I'm not the kind of person who believes in God. But if I *was* I would find it amazing that just as one great love of your life leaves...another one arrives." Truer words were never said. And I am so grateful for the grace that God, The Universe, or what-have-you has bestowed upon me.

I plan to go forward with my life, and live in a manor which would make my mother proud. I will be happy. I will have joy in my heart. And I will develop my abilities and contribute something of worth and value to the world around me. 

Thursday, June 23, 2011

J-Lo The Whippet

Last night I started looking for places in San Francisco and Berkeley. Scoping out potential options for me. I've had it good here. For a long while, I've grown accustomed to the comfort, space, and privacy that living in your own house can provide. I have two dogs to show for it. And I love them. But they most likely will not be able to come with me if I move. We'll see about that. Nothing is decided upon for now. For all I know I may be able to stay here. It really all depends on the news I'll be getting this week. 

I thought about things from J-Lo's perspective: in a short while, her whole world has turned upside down. Her pack has been reordered considerably. She was my mom's dog -her favorite. She would spend her days lounging on her bed or on the couch with La Suprema. Looking out the window, or soaking up the sun. It's funny, in the summertime she actually gets sunburned if I don't put spray sunscreen on her belly. Her tender underside is a maze of little brown polka dots on a pinkish white stretch of fur and skin. Her life was that of a beloved friend. A constant companion. Even when my mother would spend long stretches in the hospital, I would take J-Lo to see her. Out of the two dogs, J-Lo was definitely most comfortable in hospitals. She just got it. Instinctively. She knew that it was a time to be calm and tender. Gracefully, as if she could fly, she would spring onto my mothers bed, landing softly. Then, in a protective manner; as if to give comfort, she would lay her head across my mother. Sometimes even stretching across her lap. She did this when my mother was so bad that she couldn't even speak. She was just writhing in pain. Moaning. Dying in a slow mysterious death that nobody understood, or could stop. J-Lo was not like humans. When she witnessed this, the only thing she knew to do was love. She wasn't afraid. She had a job. It was to be with her human and love her. Comfort her. Protect her. And let her know that she was not alone. 


For her loyalty, I made her a promise. She took care of my mother when I was not able to be there. She loved and protected her and gave her comfort. When La Suprema was alone, she could reach out and feel the warm furry body of her dog, and it would relax her. For all of this...and because my mother loved her and asked me to as well...I promised that I would take care of her. That after my mother died, that I would keep her and love her forever. I may not be able to keep that promise as I had originally intended it. Not because I don't love her or want her. But simply because it's almost impossible to find a share rental that will accept dogs. The cute boy has offered to take my dogs if the need arises. I'm grateful for that. But it doesn't seem right that he should have to shoulder so much responsibility for one of my promises. Not to mention the fact that he would be delaying/possibly forgoing one of his dreams...the dream of a basset hound puppy. We'll see what the future brings. For now, I am open to all possibilities. And I will make the best decision when the time comes. I am willing to give J-Lo to a loving home if I have to. She deserves to have space to run. And a family. 

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

How I Will Think of You

Thursday, April 14, 2011 at 4:14pm


"Give me a kiss to build a dream on 
and my imagination will thrive upon that kiss.
Sweetheart, I ask no more than this
...a kiss to build a dream on."  
~Louis Armstrong

It was a warm summer night in the suburbs. The crowd of party-goers had left, leaving behind the memory of the day's festivities. The lingering energy of fun and love, camaraderie and years of time shared ...stories...and laughter permeated the home. The lights were all on and the windows were open, letting in the soft warm air. It was my grandpa's 80th birthday, and everyone came from all over. I made 80 of his favorite cherry cordial candies to share; it seemed like an endless supply at the time. Grandpa had on his favorite blue Hawaiian party shirt. We were all still flying high and enjoying being together. None of us really wanted it to end. So we pulled out some of the old records and put them on. We listened to Louis Armstrong. When it got to "Give Me A Kiss To Build A Dream On" I didn't know that song. 

"Come on! I know you know this song!" my Uncle Bob said. 

"Really, I don't." 

"Awwww....listen to it. Oh everybody knows this song. It's one of the best." My uncle and mom danced. And Grandma sat in her chair and smiled. Grandpa took my hands and did his "Tchh chchTchhhh, Tchh chchTchhhh" it sounded like an old jazz wire brush talking away, keeping the time on the cymbal. After getting halfway through the song, the vocals finally came in. It wasn't an instrumental after all. But it was a beautiful song. My uncle was right. It was one of the best. We switched up partners and danced away that night listening to Louie. I'm glad to have that memory. 

~Rest in peace Uncle Bob. I love you. And I know you loved me.
 ..."Keep smiling!"

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Evergreen

Thursday, February 17, 2011 at 9:13pm


So Mantights has a tender side. We were discussing love, relationships and things that inspire us; and he asked me if I had ever seen "A Star is Born"...

"Nope. Missed that one." I said.

He then proceeded to tell me how when he was 10 years old he saw this (Barbara Streisand singing "Evergreen" to Kris Kristofferson) and it completely blew him away. -This was the kind of love that he wanted. He revisited the video as an adult and it turns out he still feels the same way. He made me promise to show the cute boy. :)) Mantights you are my ambasador of manly-men who are also kings of tenderness. :)))

Here's the link:

Turns out I actually *own* this record! (La Suprema was a fan too!)

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    • Ronna Somers A Star is Born was a classic and Kris Kristofferson the sexiest man on earth.
      February 18 at 7:35pm ·  ·  1 person

He's Cute...But Can He Cook?

Thursday, February 3, 2011 at 6:31am


I have the most amazing boyfriend! He cooked me dinner last night and brought it to my house. Then he proceeded to give me a shoulder and back massage. When I indicated that I was willing to reciprocate...he asked me what "I wanted to do"...honestly...I was tired and wanted more back massage. -So he gave it to me. And it wasn't a big deal to him!!! Then. He held me. And kissed me. And told me all of the things he liked about me. Um....can I say...This man is amazingly wonderful!!! ♥ ♥ ♥ 

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    • Becky Sanchez Im so happy for you... and he sounds great, and very perciptive I can see
      February 3 at 8:06am ·  ·  1 person
    • Anthony Montoya First do this: check his ring finger, is there a tan line like he may be married? Google him; he may have a whole pack of kids somewhere-probably Sacramento. If he says he wants to take you to some "religious" meeting out in the woods at midnight it's more than likely a cult, so don't go. Or have you done your homework already? One can never be too careful.
      February 3 at 3:10pm ·  ·  2 people
    • Vanessa Medina I love you Lalo!!!
      February 3 at 3:38pm · 
    • Denis Gbepal Pretty-Vanny,it is the tool in life-LOVE.
      February 3 at 4:15pm ·  ·  1 person