The Maroon Diaries

This year, for the first time since primary school when such lists were pretty much compulsory, I've kept a list of all the books I've read. I was inspired by the various blogs I was reading. Many bloggers were publishing their reading lists, and I really loved seeing everyone's lists. In fact, I have found several amazing, gorgeous books that I would not have ever heard of but for a mention on a blog I was reading. I thought it was such a good idea that I tried it too, and I must say, it has been very enjoyable to keep this list throughout the year. I like that I can now place exactly when I read a book, and compare it to other events happening in my life at the time. When I started by typing in the first title here, Love Times Three by the Darger Family , I immediately remembered laying on my bed, reading this book and listening to the sounds of the New Year's Eve revellers lurching around the streets outside. I remember that New Year's Day was hot, so I sta...

It was a late night for the Maroon Household last night. Yesterday afternoon, Mr. CJ managed to bang his head hard enough to be concerned about a concussion. The thing to do in these situations, of course, is to keep the person awake for a decent amount of time, twelve hours being a pretty good rule of thumb. So we prepared our favourite caffeinated beverages and settled in for a late night. We watched Pirates of the Caribbean , and some Stargate SG-1 . I read my current library book, Hallucinations by Oliver Sacks , which caused me to occasionally open the computer to google things like interictal personality syndrome ,  palinopsia and  the relationship between spirituality and temporal lobe epilepsy . I kept an eye on Mr. CJ to make sure he wasn't falling asleep. He's fine, by the way, and didn't fare any worse than a nasty headache. Amongst all these noctural activities, I somehow had a thought, a memory, come to me quite strongly. I was thinking about a series of ...

I've travelled, and been to galleries, and studied the Masters and perused expensive art books, but after all my adventures, I must say that the most amazing art is often not found within these traditional boundaries. I love to notice and discover art in the wild, scrawled on city walls and stuck up with blu-tack in the most unexpected places. I discovered this piece of writing on such a scrap of paper, on the wall of the toilet in a share house in Scotts Head, New South Wales, and recorded it in my journal on August 17, 2000. The celebrity references clearly indicate its vintage. I have no idea who the author might be - if you think you might know who she is, or maybe who melina & giselle might be, I would love to hear from you. Alternative spellings are rendered true to the original. ***** REEL WIMMIN (inspired by melina & giselle, & Arnie movie bimbos) And I say 'fuck you, fuck you' to the smarmy smooth images of long-legged blonde bimbos, tottering m...

Long, long, ago, when the world was young and humans were just getting themselves together as a species, people paid a lot of attention to changes in the natural world. It was necessary for survival. So they noticed that the days grew shorter each day. They watched the point at which the sun rose on the horizon, and noticed that it was a little further along each day. Then came a time when the night was terribly long and cold, and when the sun rose in the morning, it did so at the same point on the horizon as yesterday. Some people probably even worried that it was never going to come back. Maybe this was the end of the sun's life? There was no way of knowing back then. So they watched, and maybe they prayed and chanted, and on the third day, the point of sunrise was a little further out again, and the day was a little longer. The sun was on its way back, and the people rejoiced. There was no way of reckoning such back then, but by today's calendar, that day would have been Dec...

I was lucky enough to get the chance to spend a week with one of my most favourite people, Littletree , and collect these sage and wonderful gems. ***** Littletree was a little overwhelmed by how big the airport was. Littletree: It's such a long way to walk from the building to the car. Me: Yeah, it is. Sorry about that. Littletree: Oh, don't apologise. It's not your fault. You didn't build this stupid place. ***** I had just told Littletree a cute, funny kid story about myself when I was five years old. The climax of the story involved me presenting my Nana and Pa each with a piece of fruit cake. Littletree loved the story, and laughed and smiled, and then became quite serious and thoughtful. Littletree: One day, if I become a grandmother... I had the feeling that she was about to make one of her profound pronouncements, and listened carefully. Littletree: ...I'm going to have to warn my grandchildren that I don't like fruit cake. ***** ...

I'm the luckiest girl. My baby sister came to visit me! Well, she's not a baby any more of course. She's all grown up, with qualifications and a passport that has seen more stamps than the lady at the post office. She's so busy flitting around the world that this is her first visit in eight years! Yes, we are aware that we don't look much like sisters. We don't sound like sisters either. Aya has a posh London boarding school accent and I have an ocker drawl that grates even on my own ears. The short story is, we have different mothers, so technically we're half-sisters. For most of our lives we've lived in different countries, and if I added up all the hours we've actually spent physically together, it wouldn't come to much. But there's more than that with us. We've always had a connection, regardless of time and space. We are spirit sisters, perhaps more than kin. We are both always a part of each other, even when we don't c...

I've often thought of making jam, especially when there happens to be a local glut of some fruit in particular. Or when I find a recipe for something tantalisingly exotic, like White Peach and Rose Jam or Blueberry and Blackberry Jam. I've often read through the recipes and instructions for jam-making, and visualised myself performing the actions described. At some point, however, I would feel overwhelmed or discouraged, and come up with a story about why it might be a disaster - anything from burning myself, to bugs that survive my sterilisation procedures, to failing to comprehend the setting point. Somehow I'd been feeling a bit inspired and adventurous when I went shopping at the greengrocers, and found strawberries for 69c a punnet. Of course I bought six punnets, and then I had to find something to do with them. When I found a recipe that used 500g of strawberries to make just one jar of jam, I reasoned that I had little to lose if it didn't work out. I was...

"Take three seeds, and put them in the bitterest place." I had been praying deeply, asking for guidance. There's been Stuff going on, people, major Stuff. And when I wonder, 'what will I do?", this is what I do. I turn to the Goddess and ask her to show me the way. And this what what she had to say. "Take three seeds..." It soon became clear that She wasn't going to talk to me anymore until I had taken on this message. It's not so common for me to receive such concrete, deliberate instructions in my spiritual guidance. I was intrigued, piqued and puzzled. Um, what does that mean? So I pondered. It sounded like I had been presented with a Quest of sorts, a mission to carry out just for the sake of following Her wherever She may guide me. I thought of a book I had read a little while ago, a beautiful children's story published in 1872, The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald. In the story, the little princess meets her Grand...

Our trip to the big town the other day has certainly brought to light some interesting labelling procedures . Littletree 's friend Miss J was out with us for the day - and I am happy to report that she scored a great haul at the oppies, going home with a whole new outfit and shoes. When she announced that she felt hungry and wanted a snack, I suggested we just nip up to the supermarket on the corner. We needed bread, so I found that, and then asked Miss J to just find the nearest suitable snack. It happened that we were right by the section with tinned fruits and all those little snack packets that involve fruit to some degree. Miss J picked out some jelly-fruity thing that you suck out of a plastic packet. We asked Littletree if she wanted one, and the clever girl! - she asked straight away "Does it have chemicals in it?" Miss J dutifully read out the ingredients, I assured Littletree that they sounded okay to me, and she accepted. Then we were heading straight for t...

Yesterday, there was a trip to the big town to check out op-shops. Excitement much? I found this cloth printed with pictures of babies doing all kinds of baby things. So cute. A lovely little gift for a mum with little ones. Then I happened to notice the label. ALWAYS READ THE LABEL Use only as directed. For the temporary relief of pain and fever. Consult your healthcare professional if symptoms persist. Panadol is a registered trademark of the GlaxoSmithKline group companies. I always knew that textiles have inherent healing qualities.

Oh, the rain has come. Oh, blessed be, the blessed rain has come. I've been praying for rain. Yearning, longing, keening for the rain. Once, while complaining about the weather, I pointed out that this area is supposed to be a rainforest. Ah, yes, well. Apparently this is the dry season - albeit a relatively brief one. It rained shortly after we arrived here, but that was oh, more than six weeks ago now, surely. It only took a week or two for me to notice the lack of rain. A couple more to feel a little concerned. And then soon, rather disturbed, just quietly thank you. I feel that the rain is a physical necessity for me. If it doesn't rain for a while, I feel a desperate thirst that just cannot be quenched by drinking. It's the thirst of the land and the air. Obviously, I would not last long in a desert environment. Rain makes everything all right. Rain makes everything better. Rain makes the world fresh and clean, even in the inner-city streets. In the sound ...

Op-shop rummaging has yielded some delightfully retro results lately. I must give credit to Majikfaerie for the discovery of this gem. She spotted it in an op shop in the big town and knew I would want it. Melba Art Needlework Book, published by Hawksworth & Osborne at 24 Flinders St. Melbourne, and retailed at one shilling. We couldn't find a date of publication, but I reckon it was around about the time when a book like this would have cost one shilling. Now I thought I was pretty knowledgable about textile art techniques, but there are stitches and methods in here that I have never heard of before . Alston stitch, Craig stitch, double cape plait stitch, oyster stitch, thorn stitch, rambler rose stitch. Can you imagine how exciting that is for me? At a jumble sale style op shop in the village, I came across a plastic bag stuffed with bits and pieces that seemed to be the chucking-outs of someone's crafty-sewing things collection. Jackpot! Why is a retro sewi...

Out of the mouths of babes... or of one babe in particular,  my darling goddessdaughter Littletree . *** Littletree comes inside from playing outdoors. Me: Watcha bin up to? Littletree: I was playing an imagination game. I imagined that our treehouse was a community and Leonard and Penny and Howard and Raj and Bernadette and Sheldon and Amy were all there. And - hey, well, you know how Penny really likes drinking alcohol? - well, she was getting addicted to alcohol and we were trying to get her to stop drinking so much alcohol and have a break. *** During goodnight snuggles. Littletree: Demelza, I'm really glad that you are my godmother. I'm glad I didn't have someone who was really strict and all, like, (screwing up face, wagging a pointing finger and using a screechy voice) 'You get into your pyjamas now girl!' *** Littletree: Hey, um, what's cellulite? (fortunately I had some that I had prepared earlier ready to show her.) Littletree: Oh...

I didn't wake up so well this morning. As soon as I was conscious I felt irritated, disconnected and anxious. My mind was running over in circles of negative thought. I felt the shadows of the night's dreams - quite a string of disconnected anxieties - still present in the morning light. This is something I'm used to. It's a common feature of a depressive illness - to wake up in the midst of the hardest emotions, and to struggle to rise out of them somehow to reach the realities of the day that is unfolding. Taking care of how I wake up is an important part of my mental health management. The discovery of the blogosphere was a remarkable boost to my morning experience, possibly the best one since I discovered tea-drinking in my late teens. First thing, when I wake up in the morning, I make a cup of tea. I often dream of having someone to make a cup of tea for me and bring it to me in bed - oh, surely, the very definition of luxury - but in the meantime, the thirst f...

A couple of recently discovered op-shop treasures. Once upon a time, someone took a linen tea towel printed with a picture of wombats and made it into a wall hanging, adding a backing layer of fabric, highlighting features of the image with sewing machine embroidery...  and stuffing one of the wombat shapes into 3-D relief with some polyester filling. It's a wonderful creative effort, but I don't think it really worked out. The lump of stuffing pulled the shape and line of the cloth all out of whack. It just wasn't going to sit straight or flat. But I wanted that beautiful tea towel. Out came the quick-unpick... I was stoked when I spotted this funky little cup. Like many tea-drinking enthusiasts, I'm quite particular about the vessel from which I partake. I don't like mugs, but the traditional tea cup is too small, and life is too short. I'm always looking out for something pretty and pleasing in design, with a nice low shape. And this one...

The attentive follower may have noticed that things have been a little quiet lately here at The Maroon Diaries. I am very pleased to report that this lapse in blogging was not due to any health problems or techno-avoidance issues. Rather, I've actually been busy HAVING A LIFE. Yay for Lady Demelza! The Maroon Household made a collective decision to go North for the winter. This is wonderful for me as it means staying with my darling goddessdaughter Littletree , whom I adore more than life itself. The climate is the wonderful thing for Mr. CJ. With many of his health problems being arthritis-related, July and August can be a pretty miserable time for him. Up here, he gets to hang out on a sunny verandah rather than huddle by the fire... while I complain about the unreasonable heat. Yes, I am very sad to be missing out on the winter... but I have lots of happy distractions here to make up for it. I wish I could find a way to explain and express just how awesome and amazing Little...

I started off with this grey slip of a dress, found in the op shop for $1. It's a lovely soft grey marle, and I saw potential for a slip or nightdress worthy of the Maroon Wardrobe. Someone thought they were so cool and clever and punk when they decided to add that short black zip to the neckline with the working on the wrong side and the zip so prominently exposed. I beg to differ. It also features this darling logo that indicates the size printed inside the back. Yes, it's printed on the inside, so no-one will see it, but I will know that it is there. First, I dyed the whole thing maroon. Duh. My intention was then to replace the zip with a strip of lace, and to add to the length by adding some doilies at the hem. I hadn't gotten any further than intending such when I wore this piece, layered over a longer tiered skirt, on my trip to Fingal Head  with Majikfaerie and Littletree. During our picnic lunch, Majikfaerie suddenly started a bit and said 'Did you ...

These beautiful works of art were formed by the patient fingers of a generation of anonymous women. I have no evidence that all these pieces were created by women, but I'm confident that it's a reasonable guess. In another generation, I might not be so sure. I have found these treasures in op shops everywhere, with an eye out always for the pretty, handcrafted details on a tablecloth, pillowslip or doily. I can't bear the sadness of the thought of these items being unwanted. I scoop them up and take them home and adore them, and honour the women who have created art with needle and thread since the beginning of human culture. I wonder who the woman who created each piece was, what she was thinking of and hoping for as she stitched. I wonder whether, when she folded the piece for the last time, she knew that she was doing so. I wonder whether she is still alive somewhere, or has passed on. I wonder at the circumstances of the creation, the adventu...