“It is in his pleasures that a man really lives, it is from his leisure that he constructs the true fabric of self.”

The above title is a quote from Dinty Moore’s Craft book, as said by Charles Lamn and Sir Walter Scott in a contemplative essay by Agnes Repplier.

In the middle of acquiring two new Fashion Product description clients—thanks guys, I’m looking forward, I took a moment to breathe, and look at my pretty frikkin pup:

You gave me a treat-treat now shoo yourself away

She’s adorbs. My absolute love.

O, and about the size of my cordless phone (but 2 lbs, 10 ounces) and full-grown.

She keeps thinking she’s a bulldozer when she barks, so I got her the perfect t-shirt today.

She's BOSSY. She's the first girl to scream at the motorcycle!

 And then, if I didn’t jump out of my heartbeat enough looking at her cuteness—

she decided she didn’t wanna be photogenic for her Mom this afternoon.

No Mom, I'm just not gonna look, I'm just not gonna

Often, I think she’s even smarter than I am; just look at this face—studious.

Now if she can just get these edits done for me all will be well.

Mom's Gyrrrl

My Poems are featured in The Scrambler today

I read at Beyond Baroque last night, and two of my poems are featured in The Scrambler” today:

“Went to Bed and a Kite Sunk” and “Wildflowers”

Click my picture to read them:

Performing last night at Beyond Baroque in Venice, CA

Performing last night at Beyond Baroque in Venice, CA

Desk Mess, Pretty Lamp, and Betsy Lerner love

I juggle: Write. Read The Forest for the Trees, Betsy Lerner. Study Craft. Sleep. Moscato Asti. Sleep. Fight Pillows. Poetry. Overthunk. Kiss Puppy. New Lamp. School Shopping for 6th grader. Play Writer’s Toolbox. Ipad2. Macbook. Writing Center later. French Vanilla. Revise: Chapters 1-4. PANIC. Backed up laundry. Fashion/Poetry Blog. 10 loads all waiting in my laundry room for me, to get it together. Rinse. Repeat.

Live What You Love

If there are two things I wish so badly that I could have known when I was ten years younger they would be:

  1. How to set a goal and stick to it and still love myself if it fails.
  2. How to Live What I Love: Fashion, Writing, and Personally.

I ran into this magical person yesterday. Sometimes it’s just when you feel you’ve hit every low, every bottom, every blow-bubbling pouty-lip- it’s just then that you meet a person who attempts to put everything in perspective for you. He explained to me that he’d been married some oddly wild number of years and been a millionaire owning more than 30+ properties, highs/lows, etc. and that once things went sour for his business etc. that his wife– left him because “women like security,” true, very true. But this story isn’t about him or his millions flowing out of the plane as his wife flew away. No. This story is about living what you LOVE and coming to terms with who you are.

I’m superficial. I mean, superficial to the extent of someone being attractive to me personally, and everyone’s attraction to someone is different… by different I mean unique. By unique I mean often times “my type” fluctuates but has a general standard. I fail to realize this standard because I’m busy and because I’m generally ashamed to admit how superficial I am. Case and point:

Not too long ago a friend of mine were having a “girl’s night out,” when she interrupted my blurting mouth with:

Her: “Grrrrrrl, did you see him?”

Me: “Who?”

Her: “That one, don’t look now, but over there… I thought for sure you’d seen him because he is… {insert dreamy batting eyes}”

Me: “Nuh-uh”


So as I looked around frantically I still didn’t see him. Looked around again, (o so not discreetly) and still had no clue about who it was she was desperately seeking attention from. The fact was that after a few moments, I gave up and changed the subject and the night carried on but the entire time I was secretly trying not to seem dense to figure out the inside joke of who it was (exactly) that was so “dreamerly” to her. I finally narrowed it down to a problem with my own eyes. I couldn’t even “see” her type because it was not my own. I couldn’t notice the person she noticed because my eyes weren’t at all trained to notice as poignantly as if he had been say– my type, ahem.. ahem…  Adam Rodriguez. Just for example.

Which leads me back to the coffee shop…

The man kept coming up with these stories of love, faithfulness, kindness, randomness, he went on about how there was no coincidence. Then comes his Jesus spiel. Of Course it were. He was very interesting. {I meet interesting. Lol.} But even through it all it was the message of pushing through despite the adversity, carrying along through huffs and puffs. I thought about how he had said he had to sleep in his car and how nonchalant he was about it all. How he mentioned anxiety, panic, growth, love, confusion, career, children, finances, and loving what it is that you do all before he knew a thing about me.

Additionally I was inspired by two blog posts by a writer named Jozen who once wrote about not dating a woman unless he was one of the best looking guys she’d ever dated, and also his take on not broadening your horizons.

“If anything, when a man says something like what I’m saying, when a man is encouraging women to go out there and date the man they find themselves staring at for an inappropriate amount of time, ‘they should feel empowered and go forth. Not just because I say so, but because that’s how I’m living my life and I must say, dating someone you’re very attracted to, someone who is beautiful in your eyes and is so fine you can watch her just sleep, it’s a pretty good feeling. It’s a pretty good feeling for me and it’s a pretty good feeling for her.” -Jozen

I absolutely love good thoughts and inspiration. I love to read things that teach me a bit more about what is inside of me.

The more I find out about myself the more I realize the steps I’ve missed. I haven’t yet learned myself enough to live in everything that I love, partly because so much of me still needs to be discovered. I realized that I have finally begun to touch on what that is. Loving and accepting my standards, my goals, my talents, and myself.

Original picture recommended found from the wonderful Library Adventures via original Limited Edition print from Heartfish Press.


Pastel Juicy Couture Original Collector’s Ed. Charms for Sale!

Wonderful is the day when you can share. Sharing is caring, y’know? These showstopping beauties are brand new in box, über cuteness. You should totally click on the picture and buy one for $40, or rather the whole collection. They’re so adorable. Smoooooochies!!!

ALL FOR SALE $40 a piece
7 pieces for sale!
RARE not in stores
They’re all collector’s editions!!!!

Update: Some of these have sold. Please email me at LalaniiRGrant@Gmail.com for the Limited Editions that are left.

I’m… pregnant…


and… it’s a girl… her name is “Notebook”

so far she’s 1 lb.  and I love her so much! 😉


Notebook pretending she’s a wii.




We pretend to nap.



















And brother and sister bonding…


Her new sleep playpen…

















And my new baby making a mess!


Shooting my gun!


Man what? Man who? Today I reupholstered my kitchen chairs, all by my “big-girl-self!” Yei! They already had an antique shabby chic look to them–I just gave them a spin. My fabric was Paris inspired because of my recent obsession. The pastels, the romanticism. Ahhhh, one of these days I’ll get there.


The job?? It was easssy! Well, actually. I purchased (a cheap $11) stapler from Home Depot because I figured that reupholstering some chairs shouldn’t be too hard–nothing heavy duty needed. That was until the stapler began to talk back to me. It said “no, no, no, maybe, nah, not hungry, not yet,” then it regurgitated back into the air all of my staples. They flung across the room. I shook my head and kept talking to myself.


I drove all the way back to Home Depot for the second time without thought because I consistently purchase defective items. I brought with me both the staple gun I’d purchased and the staple gun my friend let me borrow. I asked the guy down the aisle for help; he was already staring down at my bag. He had those black wood like-piercings in his ear so that’s really all I can remember about him.


He quickly grabbed the first staple gun from me and loaded it while explaining to me how often things are easier than we make them out to be. I’m guessing the flustered look on my face gave me away.


“Naw, you’re good,” he said as I apologize and thank him for being able to get the whole jizz working and again after I thank him for being so sweet after I had to ask him for something so seemingly simple.


I handle the rest of my business for the day and return back to my reupholstery project. I may not know something but I will gladly find out. Hmph!

After I got the hang of my self-taught DIY, I start going on the trigger like it’s the unforgivable. I fire off about 20 staples in the back of the poor chair- tightly wrapping the beige fabric over the front like a Christmas present. I started with the back of the other chair and found it to be very therapeutic. The entire time I’m feeling stronger and more empowered. So easily amused, I know.

Sometimes I wish my life were the staple gun neatly shooting perfects into a chair being reupholstered. Unfortunately my life is actually the poor chair. All cushion, no legs.




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