Author: Frani

Fragments Of Love Friday ~ A Blurry Daze

Well shit, it’s been a while, folks. I would like to say I’ve been so busy, so important, that I’m kind of a big deal, but um…I’m not. While I have been busy with life, I feel as though I have nothing to show for it.

I’m still battling mysterious aches and pains, etc. that I think all doctors are basically telling me it’s either all in my head (and maybe they’re right) or it’s just a two year-long rager my body is throwing to say “Heeeeey, welcome to your 40s, bitch.” as it slings back another shot of Jim Beam. Yuck.

So, yeah. I try to chill my brain (not literally but maybe that might help??), exercise when not feeling like I’m undead, and eat as healthy as possible which I could probably better accomplish in a way that doesn’t involve coffee ice cream swirled with chocolate and Cupcake Royale’s cupcakes. Apparently, that delicious shit ain’t healthy, and it doesn’t help that the hubs and I have moved back down to the Pike Market/Belltown neighborhood where we have access to so much yumminess.

But you guys, a couple weeks ago, I had so many vegetables. Like three days of pure vegetarian meals. That counts for something, right? We’re not complete and utter meat-hangry, sweaty sloths around here. No siree bob.

Don’t look at me like that, Bob. You don’t know me. Go fix your own life, BOB.

Yeah, I dunno. Ignore me. I suddenly went from eating ALL the sugar to very little sugar these past couple days, and my body is even angrier than before. And my brain is all like “Fuck you, body. I hate your face.”

So much hostility up in here.

So anyway, I have an appointment with an MD mid-December who practices functional medicine, a field where they look at the body as a whole to determine if the different parts of the body that are screaming in pain and discomfort are shouting about the same issue. It’s like solving a puzzle instead of just treating this symptom and that symptom, and oh, that symptom over there. Ya know what I’m saying.

At any rate, hopefully this doctor will help me to not be a decrepit-feeling psychopath who hobbles around shouting obscenities at them punk kids on the street. I want to fucking skip in a carefree wonderment while shouting those obscenities, goddamnit.

Hi. How are you guys?

Let’s be thankful, shall we?

my little love notes of gratitude…

  Moving back to the hubbub of Seattle with just the right amount of space. I can plug in the vacuum once and pretty much sweep the whole place. How do people not want smaller spaces?? I do not understand.

  Shopping for produce and delicious meats again at Pike Place Market. I missed it so.

  Visiting the Olympic National Park ~ Hoh Rain Forest and making mental (and Instagram) notes for our future dream cottage.

  Going car-free. Probably one of the best decisions we’ve made. We have always tried to use public transit and car2go instead of driving, and we recently added in Zipcar to our bag of tricks. We are lowering our carbon footprint and can rent the car we need for the situation while not paying an assload of money to keep a car in the city for those few times a year we need it. So far so good, and we’re loving it.

  Get Out ~ a fantastic thriller, slight horror, dark comedy film with an important eye-opening message. I highly recommend it, and I hope it wins a few awards. It deserves it.

  This Dazey L.A. shop with their amazing, handmade attire with a hippie vibe and bold messages to uplift women.

  Deactivating my Facebook account. Yeah, again. I just can’t stand Facebook these days, y’all. It seems to have gotten so much worse this past year. I didn’t permanently delete my account this time as I have in the past. We’ll see how I feel about it in a month or so. It is nice for keeping in touch with family and friends, but as for right now, we still have these things called phones that do a whole lot to help you actively communicate with people. And I still use Instagram occasionally to share some snaps.

  Seattle sunsets and Seattle rainy days. I’m longing for more rainy days and finger crossing for some snowy days this winter. A snow-lovin’ girl can dream, can’t she?

  And as always, my husband and pups, my little pack who bring me much joy, peace, and comfort, who take care of me and protect me in their own special ways.

Express your gratitude for the little things in life. Have a great weekend, folks!

xo~ Frani


*Image snapped at the Hoh Rain Forest in Olympic National Park (And yeah, not my best work – I’m really out of practice with this whole photography thing. I’m surprised I remembered which button turned the camera on…)

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I See Skin Color And You Can Too!

This is an open letter to a small minority of folks who say “I don’t see color.” or why can’t we just say “We’re all humans.” or some other phrase that they emit with open arms that sounds all shiny and rainbow-y on the surface, but deep down, it’s just…so wrong.

While it may seem a nice utopian sentiment, it doesn’t solve the problem of racism. It is ignorant, disrespectful, and at least to me, racist in and of itself. Continue reading

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Do The Thing That Scares You

“If you cannot get away from those stories in your head, then you need to sit your butt in that chair.” ~ Gerri Russell

I have been on autopilot for the past couple days, feeling as though I am having an out of body experience as I watch myself go through the motions of normal, everyday life while allowing all the information that was hurled at me the previous few days to slowly leak its way into the processing part of my brain.

The past weekend was a whirlwind, a blur, at times a melodic symphony of soothing and encouraging words, and other times a slight cacophony to my delicate introverted ways. Because, you see, a while back I had this grandiose idea of attending my first writer’s conference with no magnificent manuscript in hand, no polished literary masterpiece, and ummm… (ha!) not even a concrete premise in mind for the 40,000 word slush pile I have stowed away on my computer like a wild, ravenous forest child guards her newfound loaf of stale bread. Continue reading

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Wanderlust I Must ~ A Utopia Of Fig Newtons & Werther’s Original

Image Credit ~ Unknown

As opposed to all the ‘same old same old’ dystopian novels, I would love to read a dystopian (or rather utopian, in my opinion) of where the sole survivors in this world are older people beyond the point of breeding. (Preferably, the cool old folks and none of those conservative nutbags though… know what I’m saying?)

Would it be a sad world without children or young folks? Inevitably, some people would try to “grow” babies in the lab or prolong that biological clock so our kind go on, right?

I guess it would depend on the mindset of those survivors. My hope would be that they would leave well enough alone and finally realize that humans have had their time. I have no doubt though that there would be some who would want to prolong their lives and hope for immortality. I guess that would be interesting if some cool evolutionary mutation and/or artificial intelligence became the successors. Hopefully, they would treat our planet better.

But, imagine if those who were left decided to say “Fuck it.” and enjoyed what time they had?

In a world devoid of sickening voices of valley girls and obnoxious, craft beer-drinkin’ millenials, these mature folks could go out and enjoy their neighborhood in peace and serenity. They could travel without a bajillion other people. They could road trip and drive as slow as they comfortably please.

They could swing dance in the streets at 2am when they can’t sleep. Or gyrate their hips to some suggestive hip hop. Whatever floats their boat. More power to ’em.

They could play chess in a quiet park on a sunny afternoon without the squalling of a million youngsters. The only other sounds heard would be laughter and chatter from some ladies slinging back a bottle of whiskey and some chill dudes strummin’ some tunes on their guitars.

They could stroll as slow as they want down the sidewalk or across the street without getting impatiently honked at or run over by a bicycling hippie or a punk skateboarder. Shit, they could just stop mid-stride without disturbing a single person while they figure out what they’re doing, where they’re going, or who the fuck they are.

They could smoke all the pot. They could drink all the booze. They could eat all the red meat and twinkies without anyone chastising them about their cholesterol or blood sugar.

They could enjoy each and every moment for what it is and take what comes their way without a worry in the world of what or who they would be leaving behind. Because they would know once they cease to exist they would be leaving the world a better place. A world that could hopefully thrive on its own once again without the interference of humans.

Happy Wanderlustin’!

xo~ Frani


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“It’s Better To Show Up Than To Give Up” ~ Bernie Sanders

Image Credit ~ Unknown

As the presidential term of our 45th president looms ahead and we approach 100 days of a gloomy, frightening USA, I have often wondered how do his voters feel now? I know the diehard conservatives who are all ‘America first!” and “Yeah, fuck women’s rights!” and “Get those foreigners out of our country!” probably still think Trump is the Second Coming of Christ.

But… what about everyone else who voted for Trump and maybe have a shred of sense in the heads? Ya know, the ones who managed to overlook his racist, sexist, and xenophobic platform in a poor attempt to keep “politicians” out of our government. “I’m not racist. I just think he speaks his mind. Anyone but Hillary. Amirite?”

Remember those voters? The ones who had some misguided notion of Trump restoring dying industries of jobs to the common folks and crafting easy, inexpensive healthcare out of a mixture of unicorn poop and fairy dust.

Oh yeah…

Now, you remember who I’m talking about. Yeah, those people. Those people who now seem to be silent at least from what I can discern from my brief information-seeking forage into the scary land of social media from time to time.

What do they think now? What do they have to say to the rest of us they brought down with them? What will they do to help us make this fucked up presidential pile of asshat shittery go away?

According to some survey of 25 Trump voters, he has a 100% approval rating from them. Various social media outlets like Twitter seem to portray a different story from his voters with #TrumpRegrets. And, the FiveThirtyEight poll of how (un)popular our President is… well, isn’t looking so hot.

So aside from Twitter hashtags, where are all the other regretful Trump voters expressing their discontent with our president? I imagine they are just sitting at home blissfully unaware and/or apathetic about what their vote has done to our country. And that, my friends, makes me even angrier than the careless and uninformed vote they cast in the first place.

I find it very sad that it is almost always the ones who did not fuck up in the first place to go out there and attempt to fix things while everyone else either pretends it’s not happening and that they had no part in the asshat shittery or actively tries to fuck it up even more.

Below is what I shared on my personal Facebook the day after the election. I thought I would share it here as well because sadly, we are still very much a divided country. Hopefully, more of us (read: all the regretful Trump voters) will join the rest of the country in resisting, fighting for fairness, and creating change that is good for everyone.

Let me tell ya… growing up as little Asian girl in southern Ohio, I never felt afraid. Self-conscious and like I didn’t belong, yes, but never concerned for my safety. Mean, hateful words never physically hurt me.

And while Asians have not been an outright target in this election and I probably have nothing to worry about, I know I will not be able to help feeling wary in the future, especially when traveling in certain areas of our country. I feel it will be grade school all over again except with bigger, angrier bullies shouting racial slurs in Walmart parking lots.

So, now my tears are of sadness, anxiety, and disappointment. I have never felt so uncertain and afraid after a presidential election. Not for me necessarily. I married a white, privileged male. If anything, Trump would see me as a successful white man’s token Asian wife. No, I worry for other beautiful American minorities… people of different cultures, religions, ethnicities, and sexual orientations.

I did not vote for Hillary just because she’s a woman. I voted for her because she was our best option who I had hoped would beat the odds and the sexism to become our first female president.

When I voted, I thought about who would be the best fit for our country as a whole because that’s a significant part of being a democracy. We are one big community who should be thinking of each other and taking care of one another.


Who did you think of when you voted?

Stay strong, folks. Create. Speak up. Resist. ✊

xo~ Frani

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Wanderlust I Must ~ A Bright & Minimalist Writing Nook

Image Credit ~ Unknown

A good writing space is essential. And every artist is different. Each and every one of us will thrive in a completely different environment from the next artist.

I hate that stereotypical perception that all creatives are messy. Maybe I’m not as creative as I hope I am (most likely not), but having a cluttered workspace and a litter-strewn desk is not helpful to me at all. It is not productive to the creative processes in my mind. It’s distracting. Because my procastinatin’ brain will find every little excuse possible (clean all the things!) to not write.

Hence why I need a clean, minimalist workspace. Plus, I just love the look and feel of minimalism. I like having only what I need (or maybe want, if functional) and having a proper space conducive to the task at hand.

I like the feel of clean, bright openness. To me, that frees my mind to think, to create. It’s as if it opens a portal to all the stories hidden away in the nooks and crannies of my mind.

So, I am jonesing on the above image I came across yesterday. The natural wood, the white desk and chair, and a large bright window are just beckoning me to sit down. To write. To create. It also helps that I love snow. ❄️

Happy Wanderlustin’!


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Time To Write Or Get Off The Pot

Image Credit ~ Unknown

How the fuck is it past mid-April already!? Arrrgh. So much for a whiz-bang start to the year. I was hoping that 2017 would be less stressful than 2016, but so far, it’s been about the same. Yeah…

I’m hoping beyond hope right now that we’re on an upswing though.. that some fucking stars or planets (or shit, I’ll take some black holes at this rate) will align in my favor any minute now and life will just calm her shit down so I can get shit done.

However, as I keep getting older, I have come to realize there will be no better time than now. Funny how that works out. I cannot keep pushing my writing, my desires, my goals to the background of my day to day life. If I had a “real job”, I wouldn’t be doing that. I’d be sucking it up… the aches, the pains, the fatigue, the stress, the other stupid life shit that pops up from time to time, and I would just deal with it as I do my job.

I was once a young woman in her early 30s who dealt with a heart-wrenching breakup, a move to a new place back on her own again, more work responsibilities, an emotionally draining relationship with a mother two hours away who had broken her hip and needed assistance, AND a new romantic relationship all within a span of about three months. I look back on that time now and shake my head in amazement. Did I take speed and not remember? How did I have the energy and stamina for all that? Both my brain and my body must have been thriving on pure adrenaline and endorphins.

So, why the fuck am I treating my writing for this website as well as my dreams of finishing a novel as if it’s just some inconsequential hobby? It’s important to me. I have never wanted anything else so much as to be able to say to myself: “You did it. It took you a long-ass time, but you did it. You wrote a novel. Fuck yeah, bitch.”

And after that moment of self-congratulatory goodness, I high five myself but miss and in the process knock my artsy, cat-eye frames off my smug face. And like a baby giraffe taking its first steps, my legs get entangled with each other and begin to buckle as my glasses evade my grasp. I then stumble for a few more steps, miraculously regain my balance, and feel a brief second of triumph for not falling on my ass before hearing the inevitable crunch that makes every nerd cringe with despair. Broken glass and shards of hipster plastic lay beneath my feet.

Because being a klutz and accidentally hurting myself or breaking something is all I know, people. It’s all I know.

Anyway, so yeah… where was I?

Oh yeah, this thing called writing that I’m supposedly doing. Yeah, I gotta start doing it. Like for reals. It’s now or never. And ya know what, now is as good as time as any.

It’s time for me to shit – er… write or get off the pot.

Actually, I may have to shit now too. The husband and I are currently torturing ourselves with a slightly modified Whole30 bullshit diet. (We’re only eliminating wheat, dairy, sugar, and alcohol – fuck the system for saying no to legumes and a limited amount of healthy grains.) We just thought our stressful lives could be made more fun without cheese, beer, and a fucking cupcake sundae for a whole month. Hahahahahahaha.

In reality, a new doctor recommended I try Whole30 to give my tummy a rest and a chance to heal as well as to see if it helps with any of my ailments. But I tell ya, if I eat any more goddamned eggs, I’m either gonna hurl or be sittin’ on the toilet for a long, long time.

And with that, I leave you.

xo~ Frani

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A Scattered Brain ~ Fuck, I’m Tired.

I’m tired.

Tired of life.

Tired of being an adult.

Tired of being tired.

Tired of carrying what feels like the entire weight of an elephant in problems upon my achy shoulders. Some days, it’s a baby elephant. Other days, it’s like a papa elephant. Always a goddamn elephant. And yes, baby elephants are fucking OMG-adorable but not when you gotta fucking carry one on your shoulders.

Tired of feeling invisible.

Tired of feeling like a victim… who fucking feels invisible.

Tired of trying to make others happy.

Tired of trying to keep the peace and not let that metaphorical boat rock too much. Have you guys never been in a boat!? They fucking rock! Both literally and figuratively.

I probably sound way more excited about boats than I intend to.

Tired of putting my life on hold.

Tired of not knowing better.

Tired of living in a semi-quasi-sorta ‘Groundhog Day’. If only that wise and wacky Bill Murray were here in my little bubble of the world. He’d fucking know what to say to make me feel better. Or we’d just drink whiskey.

Tired of feeling alone when I’m not alone.

Fucking tired of allowing myself to be the victim, to be a ghost, to be the faint shadow of what I could be.

Already fucking tired of this fucking post and my fucking whining.

Tired of not using the word ‘fuck’ more often.




That’s kind of better. I’ll work on it.

Tired of scientists not figuring out how to make unhealthy food fucking nutritious, powerhouse foods. I just want Taco Bell and a fucking Twinkie to give me all the nutrients the body needs. Is that too much to ask?

Tired of doing every other goddamn thing besides writing.

Tired of not believing in myself.

Tired of having to be strong. Like, emotionally. Physically, I’m a bit meh.

Tired of always remembering, at times of emotional turmoil similar to what I’m currently experiencing, when an ex once told me I was one of the strongest people he knows. I think he probably only knows like three fucking people (not really) so what the fuck does he know?

(And you, lucky reader are thinking, “You!? Experiencing emotional turmoil right now? Nooooooo. This post is so jolly. Filled with words of pure fucking joy.”)

Tired of not knowing when to quit.

Yeah, I know. I’m too legit.

Tired of getting right back up the next day and taking another crack at this stupid fucking thing called life for whatever fucking reason. Because no matter how shitty life is and how much I so fucking want to quit doing it sometimes (I’ve quit every other fucking thing), livin’ is the one thing that I know how to keep on doing.


Have a great fucking day, y’all.


xo~ Frani


*I needed a good ventin’. Thanks, Internet!

*Image of trees snapped at The Grotto in Portland, OR

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Fragments Of Love Friday ~ Long Overdue

It’s been a while since I’ve done a gratitude post, so this is long overdue and very much needed on my part. This is a fucked up and rather scary time in our country, folks. We’re so close to a political disaster, so try to keep the good things in life present in your mind at all times. The little things that make you smile will keep you going.

my little love notes of gratitude…

A mini vacay by myself in Portland, Oregon.

Snow in Seattle!

A Christmas getaway to the Oregon coast.

 Marching with my husband and thousands of other people on January 21, 2017. I’m so happy my husband isn’t an angry, racist, bigoted white dude.

This Countable app. Makes it so easy and kind of fun to stay informed of the issues!

Health insurance! I have it so much better than a lot of people… sooo thankful my husband has a good job he enjoys and we receive decent health insurance. Something I wish for everyone.

Healthy pups! They’re getting older, but they’re still puppies at heart… and at brain for that goofy muppet one.

This image of Justin Trudeau’s butt that’s got all the internets going gaga. Canadians are the envy of most Americans right now. Rightfully so. 😍

Chiropractor! I’ve just begun sessions to correct some shit that’s been going on in my spine. A few things I already knew about, but one pretty serious issue I did not know about is my cervical neck is rather jacked up. No wonder I’ve been having neck/jaw/shoulder/upper back pain! Yeeesh. Hopefully, chiropractic care gets me all sorted out.

Salt & Straw Ice Cream! I so wish they would open up a scoop shop in Seattle. I used to be a Jeni’s girl, and while Jeni’s ice cream is still good, my allegiance now lies with Salt & Straw.

Freedom and love in the USA. We have the right to speak our minds, voice our concerns, protest the atrocities our current administration is trying to enforce upon us, and fight their hypocrisy. Use the power of the 1st Amendment that our Founding Fathers bestowed upon us. Be the dissenting voice.

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

xo~ Frani


*Image snapped during the Women’s March in Seattle on January 21, 2017.

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