"HAM!"

Last night, to my sheer delight, The Boyfriend and I took advantage of his one-month trial of Netflix and watched Hayao Miyazaki's "Ponyo." I've seen "Howl's Moving Castle" and loved "Spirited Away," but a friend told me that while "Ponyo" was good, it was much more childish. Well call me childish, but it took all of two minutes for me to fall utterly in love with this film. Rainbow bubbles beneath the sea? A little school of Ponyos? A darling love story (a pure love story)? I'm in heaven. It was bright, magical, innocent, and profound in its simplicity. The animation is striking, vivid, and left me not only in awe, but wishing it could go on forever. I love that there is no limit to Miyazaki's imagination and no physical boundaries to his creativity — if he dreams it, he draws it. Please, Mr. Miyazaki: keep dreaming, keep drawing, and keep me in heaven.

Ilk

"Ilk (ILK) noun
Sort, kind, or nature, as in 'I refuse to eat
pumpkin, zucchini, or anything of that ilk.'"

Last night The Boyfriend and I went on total Nerd Alert and sat through 3 hours and 42 minutes of "The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers" at a special AMC movie theater showing. The small-ish theater was sold out, and we got two of the few seats left — on ground-level, as the stadium seating was all gobbled up. In my tote bag, I had sneaked our food court dinner: his Arby's roast beef, mushroom, and swiss sammie and my Rocky Rococo's pepperoni and sausage Super Slice. Not bad for a food court dinner. Throughout the movie, from time-to-time, The Boyfriend would mumble something here or there about being thirsty — how all that salty food made him crave a beverage, how the Ents releasing the waters (spraying-splashing, gushing-rushing waters) of Isengard wasn't helping. Each time I muttered something like "Well go get something then." He would ask me if I was sure I wasn't thirsty, and I would just shake my head. Hello, I'm far too busy watching Legolas and Aragorn's totally endearing elf-man-love to think about thirst — don't you know me at all?

And while yes, of course, The Boyfriend does know me and was not, in fact, at all obnoxious about his lack-of-liquids (and also did not, in fact, move from his seat for the entire 3 hours and 42 minutes), it still made me realize that there are few out there who are of my same ilk. Yes ilk. This particular ilk is the Lord of the Rings 10+ hour "extendzies" marathon sort of ilk. Maybe The Boyfriend could handle it. Maybe. But there are only two girls I know for certain that are of my same caliber of Lord of the Rings, total nerdom ilk. Rachel and Rebecca were (dare I use this term?) "besties" long before I came into the picture — and yet I'm so glad I found them. They know that it's hilarious when Orlando Bloom spouts lines like "They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them!" They get that it's tear-inducing when Treebeard the Ent says they lost the Ent-wives and can't even remember what they look like. They understand that things like "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo — and it's worth fightin' for" is not so much corny as it is true. These girls of my LotR ilk would deal with tummy rumblings and parched tongues for the sake of Middle Earth (and by Middle Earth I mean... for the sake of sitting through a 3 hour and 42 minute movie without a bathroom break or trip to the concession stand). I love that there are people out there, like Rachel and Rebecca, who still look for magic and believe in their dreams. As Tolkien said, "A single dream is more powerful than a thousand realities." If that's true, then I'd say our ilk has got some pretty powerful stuff.

Just bead it.

This past weekend, I worked and attended the 2011 Bead&Button Show. That's right, I work for BeadStyle magazine and every year in downtown Milwaukee, we host a show. There are classes to take, teachers to meet, auctions to bid in, and beads to be bought. What's most thrilling might vary from beader to beader. Some sit in workshops every day of the show (that's seven days!). Some live for those final moments before "time's up!" at the silent auction. Some spend a small fortune on findings, doo-dads, and, well, beads at the show's Marketplace. Though I work for BeadStyle, I'm still learning — still learning the craft and still learning my Bead Show favorites. But here are a few favorite-worthy things that will not be denied:

I learned a whole heap about working with resin and stretched my jewelry-making wings — even if just a baby bit. I took a class taught by Sherri Haab, an expert in the world of resin jewelry. My classmates and I learned all about mixing resin, the chemical properties of it, the necessary safety precautions, and tips for troubleshooting. We were given molds to shape our resin into bangles or buttons and pigments to color our creations however we wished. And everyone in the class brought different inclusions along from home — "inclusions" being anything from sprinkles to seashells (the sprinkles were my idea). We played and passed the hours away experimenting with resin — and in the end? I came home with two bangles and three doo-dads that will, probably, never serve any purpose aside from being a testament to a day of expanding my beading and my brain.

At the Bead Social (which really should be called the Bead Auction), I worked registration. It had been a long day of resin-learning, but finding a second wind was easy — the bead community's enthusiasm is quite infectious. So I put on a happy (yes, borderline slap-happy) face and greeted our Bead Social attendees with all the warmth and mirrored zeal I could muster, and it turned out for the best. We got goody bags, lemon cake, and a run-in with Doo-Wop Dee Dee, the stilt lady, who a.) thought I was seven years old, b.) never broke character, and c.) was a whiz at balloon animals. Or in my case, a balloon princess hat with a teddy bear climbing up it. My mixture of joy and apprehension was, no doubt, palpable.

The following day I shopped the show's Marketplace — the third and final favorite of mine, this time around. With over 300 vendors, the Bead&Button Show leaves no shortage of treasures for your SoftFlex and eyeballs. There were tables overflowing with Eastern metals, painted orchid pendants, piles of pearls, and heaps of gemstones. There were booths spilling with vintage baubles and spools of chain stacked six-feet tall. There was finished jewelry strung with filigrees and crystals, and batches of bangles ripe for the picking. The Marketplace is a veritable beader's buffet — a feast for your stringing senses. I ate it up! And while the show, overall, is quite the draining ordeal, when it comes down to it — it's just plain fun. Fun to learn something new, meet the beaders, and open my pocketbook in the name of The Arts (well, and BeadStyle). And coming away with a teddy bear balloon hat, fit for a beading princess? That wasn't bad either.

Voila

"Sans toi, les émotions d'aujourd'hui ne seraient que la peau morte des émotions d'autrefois." – Amelie

Late last night, The Boyfriend and I watched "Amelie." I could easily have fallen asleep before he suggested it and anticipated drifting off somewhere in the middle — but I couldn't. The notion never entered my sleepy mind. The impulse to stretch out on his shabby (hold the chic) couch fell victim to my need to sit up and lean forward, elbows on my knees and chin in my hands. It was The Boyfriend's first viewing of this delightful film, not mine — and while he was attentive, I was riveted. I guess "Amelie" is the sort of movie that enchants the more you watch it. And as the movie went on, I felt an increased lightness of spirit. That feeling — that lightness and charm, that whimsy and wonder — is what I am for here at Stuff&nonsense. It's the simple pleasures, like Amelie's love of dipping her hands into sacks of grain. It's a window to the world, like The Glass Man's video tapes. It's the search for human connection and kindred spirits, like Nino and his photo-booth obsession. It warms me up inside to watch a movie like "Amelie" — a movie that reminds me that although "times are hard for dreamers," there are more of us out there.

Stumbling on pretty

There are stumblings so prettiful,
I just don't know where to put them.

So prettiful

A friend turned me on to this great blog and thereby hundreds of truly bizarre, quirky, wonderfully inventive and imaginative artists — one of them being Toshiaki Uchida. If this isn't prettiful, I don't know what is.

Hunky-dory

"Hunky-dory (hun-kee-DOR-ee) adjective
Something that's just right in a rather perfect kind of way.
That last bowl of porridge was just hunky-dory for Goldilocks."

Memorial Day Weekend, 2K11: **See "hunky-dory." Bright and early that Monday morning I picked up some of the best things this world has to offer: a dozen donuts, a six-pack of Miller, and four good friends. We blasted Babs' "Before the Parade Passes By" on our way to the Casa del Pesci to park my Carolla. Once parked, we sifted through the teeming crowds lining the Elm Grove parade route and finally spotted our clan — decked out in red, white, blue, and Bloody Marys laden with pickles and summer sausage. (I'll stick with my Miller, thanks.)

The sun beat down on our backs — Erin and I exchanged gobs of SPF 30 on each-others' necks. The donuts were melting, the beer bottles sweating. The paraders tossed tootsie rolls, American flag toothbrushes, and general merriment. The Grove gave us their vintage automobiles, their tennis club, their big brass bands, and their Uncle Sam stilt-walkers. I will tell you, it's not a lavish parade. I go every year and I hardly know why — it's not to see the Elm Grove Public Library in hopes of coming away with a free pencil. It's not to see The Women's Club or the town judge ride by, waving. But maybe it is. The overall feel of the parade is what makes it so special — the idea of a town being proud of the little things. The everyday things. The jobs and services we take for granted. In Elm Grove, on Memorial Day, everyone in town is parade-worthy. Everyone deserves some pomp and flare.