Pip le squeak

Pooh says "nobody can be uncheered with a balloon." I say: nobody can be uncheered with this face. This Pippin face. This Squeakies. Ok so our dog is still a puppy — his jaw is always flapping open and his sharp little teeth often find their way into the elbow of my fleece jacket or the back of my hand. He's always pouncing on newcomers and barking at pivotal parts in our favorite movies. He's always staring at us, doe-eyed, when we're conjuring up dinner and pawing at our laps as we attempt to ingest our eats. But he also licks our toes, flops over like a rag doll for a good belly-scratch, snuggles up in the morning, and dances on his hind legs as we shout "CIRCUS PUPPY!" — Pippin's the best. He's our Squeakies. And although I wish I were partaking in any number of exciting weekend activities (I will tell you right now, I am not), at least I've got The Pip — my little ray of sunshine who makes me content enough to just be heading home.

Beyond the veil

My dear friend, Shea, is getting married this winter — On New Year's Eve, to be exact. She's asked myself and our fellow amie, Erin, to assist her with making jewelry and generally accessorizing and styling (though Lord knows my imagination will take me far beyond the reaches of those two things). Today, after seeing top-secret pictures of The Dress, I decided to start at the top and work my way down: the veil. Or, non-veil, as is so often the case for today's modern bride. And, to be frank, I'm totally cool with that — in fact, I'm in favor of it. Sure, some veils are simply beautiful, but brides are now at liberty to do so much more — to really put their personality into their attire. Now, I'm not sure which facet of Shea's ever-dynamic personality she's hoping to highlight with this wedding of hers, which leaves me needing a.) a chat with the bride herself and b.) a brainstorming session with Erin. So for now, I will simply share some pretty veils (and beyond) that I happened upon — and I reserve the right to go a little wedding-happy with the Pretty from now until New Year's, thank you very much.
((Visit Twigs & Honey for more lovely looks))

Dear (blank)

"No man can walk out of his own story."

The other night, my family gathered around our giant projection screen in the basement to watch a movie that was new to all of us — "Rango." I'd heard good things about it from my boss, who writes movie reviews from time to time for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, so I was looking forward to it. But was I a little skeptical? Admittedly so. Mostly because, well... I love Johnny Depp. Don't get me wrong. Adore him. But I fear he's become a bit over-exposed, and all the love in the world can't make me blind to that sad fact. But a funny thing happened while watching "Rango" — Johnny's vocal chops weren't the selling point. Actually, I surely wouldn't have even known Rango's voice belonged to Johnny if the previews hadn't sold the hell out of that little detail. Johnny's voice being a bit nondescript made me love it all the more — it was just good voice-acting, and I didn't need to know it was The Depp in order to enjoy it.

Beyond the vocals, "Rango" was visually stunning — different from any other CG movie I've seen before. The story itself, being a Western, might make you scratch your head as to why I'd choose such a genre as a Flick Pick here at Stuff&Nonsense, but the message was a lovely one and "visually stunning" would be my words of choice (see also: beautiful, refreshing, and unique). "Rango" was mature, bizarre, and magical in an Old West kind of way (you know, Native American legends about walking cacti and such). There were moments I laughed, moments that took my breath away, and moments that had me almost crying for this reptile who is just trying to find himself and his place in the world. It's a theme we all can relate to, and "Rango" ends up giving us hope — Hope that with a little imagination and a lot of gumption, we'll all ride off into that proverbial sunset, someday.

Pretty magical

Photos by Lissy Laricchia (I'm in love!)

Got me twitterpated

Whilst munching on a Nutella Yummy for lunch, I stumbled upon some pretty wunderbar things. Things that made me catch my breath, smile to myself, and sigh a little. It's nice to know on this super-rainy Wisconsin Wednesday that such various shades of beauty are out there, waiting to be stumbled.

"Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon."

A couple weeks ago, I had the pleasure of accompanying my cousin's little Gloria to Disney's "Winnie the Pooh" — In a word? Wonderful. I can't say it was amazing or astonishing, staggering or surprising, for it was plain and simply wonderful. It was everything Pooh has ever been — witty, warm, and an ever-welcomed chance to step back into childhood's Hundred Acre Wood, if only for a moment. (Well, an hour and three minutes.) My favorite things about this flick are nearly impossible to number — Never, in recent history, do I recall ever having found such peaceful joy in every moment of a movie.

Perhaps a certain degree of this quiet elation stems from nostalgia — my feeling that Pooh is still the same bear I knew and adored growing up. But apart from nostalgia, it must be said that this time around, seeing Pooh through my grown-up eyes, I felt such a deep and profound appreciation for the humor and heart behind these lovable characters. I laughed every time Pooh's tummy rumbled and at every adorably clueless remark:

"Piglet: I can NOT knot.
Rabbit: Not knot?
Pooh: Who's there?"


I sighed contentedly when the lovely voice of Zooey Deschanel crooned the Pooh themesong (and subsequently contributed a sound effect here and there). I smiled to myself at the charming use of the "Winnie the Pooh" storybook itself on screen — the characters bouncing from one page to the next, using sentences as balance beams, and escaping the Bakson's pit by clambering up a pile of loose letters. It was a simple, snuggly bedtime story on the big screen. I think I loved it more than little Gloria — her only comment afterwards? "There were no monsters!" And I guess that's a good thing. Life's filled with enough heffalumps and woozles — I'd rather have an hour and three minutes of this silly old bear.