The new atmospheric ribbon jar

Ah ...... coming back home to Melbourne is always such a joy.

Nothing beats seeing My One True Love again after a few days in absentia - absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

And I'm always overjoyed to see the furry babies too; I miss their furry faces when I'm away. There's something very special about the welcoming smooch from a puss that hasn't seen you for a little while.

Along with all the other loot I brought home from Sydney, I also carried this beautiful glass jar, all wrapped up safely in six metres of cream polar fleece which I took onto the plane with me as carry-on (don't ask, even the flight attendants thought I was peculiar, and one exceptional wit [well, certainly a "-wit" of some kind] asked if I had brought my own parachute. I say: no one who works for Qantas is really in a position to joke about things like that since the oxygen-bottle-blowing-a-hole-in-the-side-of-their-plane incident last year).

But I digress. Mountaingirl gave me this gorgeous apothecary jar as a present for my birthday last month, and I think it's wonderful.

Doesn't it look absolutely spectacular all filled up with my orange ribbons? It's sitting on an orange patterned silk scarf that I use as a tablecloth for one of my side tables in the sitting room.

I keep all my ribbons colour-coded and in separate ziplock bags so they're easy to find. Mountaingirl though is slowly weaning me off the awful plastic and onto these divine glass jars, which look like the sort of thing you'd find in a fantastical lollyshop, or a dusty old chemist.

I love them, and my ribbons look SO much better when displayed properly. Thank you Mountaingirl!

Not for the squeamish ....

Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod, this is so COOOOOOL!

So cool in fact that I have to postpone my post-market Made N Thornbury post that I had planned, because I've got to blog about this object first. I am metaphorically jumping up and down with excitement. It's a giant trunk - and yes, it says what you think it says:

"Human Blood - Handle with Care".

It's my newest acquisition and I love it even more than I thought I would when I spotted it through the heaving crowd of people at Camberwell Market this morning.

Ostensibly I'd gone to the market with My One True Love to buy buttons from the lovely button ladies there, as well as some new soaps for my next market stall. I did that (pictures of buttons to come later), and found two fantastic succulents and grabbed those as well.

Then, rounding the corner, I turned my head and it was like a beacon of light shone down from the heavens and onto this trunk, which was crammed into the back of a van deep at the rear of one of the stalls. It was as simple as that - I turned my head, and my eyes locked onto it.

This trunk is a combination of the things I love. I love tins of all kinds. I love tins with text. I love giant storage boxes. I love hinged lids. I love heavy buckles, and big handles.

But most of all, I love love love medical paraphernalia. LOVE IT TO DEATH! (Sorry, I'm excited - I didn't mean to yell. And please pardon the very bad and wholly unintentional pun.)

I don't know why, but I do. I think I can trace it back to the time my father gave me a pair of surgical clamps his dad used to own. They were smooth, and cool, and so deeply and darkly medical. Almost sinister. But clinical, at the same time. Such a lovely contradiction of health and harm, those clamps were.

I've still got them, of course. And I've added a collection of apothecary jars with ground glass stoppers. My button collection lives in the huge one marked with a Benzoic Acid label. And I've got pharmaceutical bottles of different colours, including sought-after collectables, and a green one with the lid fused shut that says Pheno-Barbitol.

Ah. There's something almost calming about them. I wouldn't call it a fetish per se, but it's certainly a sharp interest.

And this new acquisition is a fantastic addition. I'm going to store fabric in it (of course, what else would I use a blood box for?), and I think it's going to live in the sitting room where I can see it every day.

Eventually it'll go into the sewing room I'm planning in my head, once we've sadly farewelled the Amateur Actress and I've commandeered her room.

But until then, I'm leaving it out so it can be seen in all its hinged and wondrous glory. And I will feast my eyes upon it.