Jikana Damaru

Making my own Cot Linen!

Remember this post, where I was debating whether to make my own cot linen? Well, I casually mentioned the idea to my fabby MIL and she totally embraced the idea! So... yesterday we visited some fabric stores in Sydney to get some inspiration.

Of course, its near on impossible to leave those stores without purchases in hand... and of course we ended up buying everything we need to make the bedding; despite the fact that none of it is what I had originally had in mind!

You might remember, I was going to go with a yellow geometric theme. The wall behind the cot is stripey, and I really wanted the colour in front to 'pop'! But I couldn't find any yellow fabrics like that and my persuasive MIL convinced me to go completely different, and a whole lot more colourful than I had otherwise intended!!

So, here's a sneaky at what will become the cot-skirt for my new baby:

The large, bold piece of fabric will make up the bulk of the 'skirt', with the green polka dot fabric and yellow rickrack forming a feature across the bottom.

And the cot quilt? The fabrics look a little something like this:

Pretty colourful stuff, hmm? I'm just going to use plain white sheets and it seems a shame not to make a couple of matching softies to go with?!

A feel a sewing bee coming on....

The three sisters

Today I'm thinking about sisters. Yesterday I borrowed the idea for my redhead post from Life in a Pink Fibro (now that I think about it, most of the people who read my blog are Al's friends, so I kinda borrowed them too). And then there's MultipleMum commenting away about Chewbacca (yeah, thanks Coo). And it all got me thinking about how especially wonderful my sisters are.

I'm on dangerous ground here. Unlike myself, my sisters have a sub-zero tolerance for anything they consider sentimental, corny or, gasp, soppy. Best they look away now

It's interesting, though. Because the word 'sister' is attached to so much about 'women's relationships' these days. 'Sisterhood' has become a symbol of belonging and girl power and I really buy into that. But what of my 'real' sisters?

Well, no one in the world can irritate me the way they can. But they've been by my side through thick and thin. Speaking of thick, they're the first people to gently tell me when I'm missing the point, getting it wrong, being generally stupid. And speaking of thin, they're the first people to not-so-gently tell me I'm getting waaaaay fatter than is strictly tolerable. Like I said, thick and thin.

I love my sisters because I spend so much time with them and yet sometimes I feel like we've barely skimmed the surface of things to talk about. I love that a raised eyebrow speaks volumes. That there are code words that remind me of a whole era of my life (Frozen Food, Al?). Sometimes it feels that if I don't tell them that something happened, it didn't really happen.

I love them because we each take a completely different route to reaching the exact same conclusion. I love them because they're very caring and very wise (and opinionated, so very opinionated). I love them because they're witty, interesting and huge amounts of fun. They make me feel good about myself, but they wouldn't dream of letting me get away with anything. If I confessed that I'd murdered someone, they'd help me hide the body but I'd be in for a 24 hour lecture on both the moral wrongness of the whole thing plus a few pointers on how I could improve my technique.

The lecture alone would make me rethink the whole murder thing.

I wonder if I just scored a couple of really good ones or if it's something to do with being sisters? Could 'sisters' officially be the most complex and best relationship in the world?

[Image: The Three Sisters, Blue Mountains]

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I rewound this post on 19.2.2011

wordless Wednesday

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An aside...

Further to my earlier rude red post, a friend sent me this Edward Monkton image which made me want to do a little happy dance of my own.

lOVE it

something to enjoy

a hot cup of tea

or coffee in

& something that

will make you smile

when you get to

the bottom of your cup!

available here

The trouble with reds

My dear sister at Life in a Pink Fibro wrote a fantastic post about redheads today. I started writing a comment on her site and realised it was getting longer and longer and longer. So I decided to do a redhead post of my own. I have a lot to say on this topic!

I'm red. Mum to reds. Sister to red. Cousin to red. Niece to red. Red, red, red. I'm sure other hair colours aren't quite so life defining.

Mum to reds. On hearing 'it's a boy' after a 40 hour labour and emergency CS, first words out of my mouth (croaking, manic, some weeping): 'has he got red hair? HAS. HE. GOT. RED. HAIR???'

No, no, they soothed, no red hair.

They lied.

Ranga, Ginga, Bunsen Burner. Ginger, Rude Red, Flame Thrower. Blue, Rusty, Fireball. Carrot Top, Big Red. Woody, Cherry, Fanta Pants. Ronald McDonald, Strawberry, Duracell, Little Orphan Annie. Ginger Ninja, Bozo, Sunset.

Heard 'em all.

Let's face it. Carrot tops are an acquired taste. They have to be really, really gorgeous to even be in the ballpark. There is nothing more unattractive than an unattractive redhead. Conversely, there's probably nothing more stunning than a really lovely redhead. People either love 'em (like crazy, beware the redhead loving male (RHLM)) or loathe 'em. And boy, do they loathe them.

The irony is that it's probably not even the hair colour that makes Ginger Ninjas so outcast. It's all the bits that go along with it. The pasty white skin, the spotty freckles, the lack of eyebrows and eyelashes. The red pubes. I'm just saying.

Do I like my children's red hair? Do I like my red hair? Do I like red hair in general?

Maybe. I dyed my hair a darkish brown once when I lived in England and I really missed being a ginga. I hadn't realised how much it puts you in the spotlight and I missed the red light when it was gone. I felt, well, ordinary. I had failed to appreciate how nice it is to be regularly complimented on my hair or what a great conversation starter it was. I had failed to appreciate that being different, standing out, not fitting in, is not such a bad thing at all. Truth is, being a redhead is a major part of being me.

That said, I think my children are attractive DESPITE the rude red. They got lucky in the gene pool because EVEN THOUGH THEY GOT MY RED HAIR, they also got their Italian daddy's dark eyes and lashes, non-glow in the dark skin and (thank god) eyebrows. I hope this will see them through. I hope they'll be okay. I hope they develop a fast sense of humour about their rude redness. Otherwise, the playground is a remarkably dangerous place for those wearing Fanta Pants.

Outdoor living room

Outdoor living room by Green Gate

With all the lovely weather we have had recently my mind has been buzzing with ideas for my outdoor space. I would love to create an outdoor living room on the back patio next to my garden shed. A stylish, comfortable place for casual dining and relaxing.

I want to make sure my space transitions gracefully from my alfresco eating area on the patio near the house, to the lawn, to the outdoor living room. So, I'm going to go for a similar colour palette to my alfresco dining but will tone down the red and green and add more white to make a softer pastel palette.

Outdoor dining room by Torie Jayne

On my wish list for an outdoor living room is a white bench with lots of scatter cushions, subtle lighting, a bistro table and chairs, and an open fire. I dream of snuggling up on the bench at night toasting marshmallows!

Here are a few of my inspirational tears for colour and theme: