Used to be, I’d go into a major depression about the second week of November and it would last until New Year’s Day. Nightmares. Malaise. Dread. The hell that was Thanksgiving and Christmas.
I hate Christmas.
I grew up in a violent, drunken household run by a violent, narcissistic drunk who hated me and her violent drunken husband. I’m someone else’s kid. It’s not easy being on the outside looking in. Someone else’s kid is never real. Never a real sibling. Never a real daughter. Never a real part of the family.
Holidays started with name calling, insults, the drunk trying – and succeeding – to start a fight. The screaming. The crying. And that was just the first hour. The next hour featured my mother screaming that we didn’t spend enough time eating the meal she spent two days cooking. As the drunks drank more, they got nastier and louder. Behaving badly and making others miserable was our holiday tradition.
We lived in Western New York where the roads weren’t plowed from about December 20 until January 2. We had to drive through an unplowed swamp to get to the in-laws. In the dark. It always snowed huge, fat, mesmerizing flakes. It was nearly impossible to see the edges of the road. The in-laws screamed and fought almost as horribly as my family. I have two happy memories: the Thanksgiving when I had the flu and was too sick to care and the Christmas when dime-store, caroler shaped candles were lit. They melted into a huge puddle covering the bottom of the foil pie pan.
One year, after driving 20 miles on icy roads, my grandmother asked if we would drive another 20 miles to pick up her sister. Fortunately, her sister declined the invitation. That was 40 years ago. I’m still pissed that she had the nerve to expect us to drive all over hell’s unplowed half acre.
Eventually, Jim and I decided to go on vacation over Christmas. This ended the family hell and the in-law hell. One year, we discovered the entire state of Maine, with the exception of LL Bean and one gas station, shuts down on Christmas. We sat in a hotel room eating stale sandwiches from the only gas station that was open while watching A Christmas Story. It was a pleasant Christmas. A far better Christmas than could be had with either my family or the in-laws.
There’s a truck stop in Lexington, Kentucky that’s open on Christmas. They have the best biscuits. They are also the only place that’s open. We drove around Kentucky eating Chex Mix and clementines while looking for an open restroom. One year, we went to West Virginia and stayed at a resort. At least the restaurant was open, the restroom was open, the food was decent, and they stocked The Washington Post.
After discovering my German Lutheran family were really Polish Jews, I gave up on Christmas. I was no longer tied to a pagan holiday. I could celebrate Hanukkah. I made my raku menorah. I left the Christmas decorations packed away somewhere in the garage. I had a holiday that came with no horrid memories, no screaming, no fighting, no crying, and best of all, no extended family.
I’m working on quilting the isolation quilt, and trying to figure out what I want to do next.
I’ve pretty much figured out how I want to quilt the figure. I’ve outlined the figure inside the box, but not outside the box. I haven’t decided how or if I want to quilt the rest of the box. I’ll make that decision after I get the rest of the piece quilted. I also haven’t decided if I want to quilt around the outside of the part of the figure that’s outside the box.
The hard part is deciding what to do with the quilting for the rest of the quilt. The original idea was to do narrow quilting. Rather than have sharp corners on the quilting, I decided to stagger the lines.
Quilting this narrow is tedious and a PITA. So….. do I keep slogging along hating every stitch? Do I gradually make the lines farther apart? Although it’s hard to see when the lines are this close together, the quilting is a variation on the Log Cabin quilt block. I didn’t have that in mind when I started quilting, but I like the idea now that I see it. Log Cabin and it’s emphasis on the home gives an interesting additional meaning to the quilt. I think lines an inch apart would make the Log Cabin more obvious. It would certainly make the quilting less tedious. Until I figure out how I want to proceed with the rest of the quilting, the quilt will sit quietly.
It’s finished, quilted, and bound.
My Biology Journey. I put the beads on before I started quilting. I thought I’d be okay quilting by hand. While I don’t mind hand quilting, the cataracts make seeing up close difficult. Unfortunately, I kept going until I was too far along to give up and machine quilt the piece. I’ve got some serious retina issues so cataract surgery requires an extremely skilled specialist. Hospitals in New Mexico have gone into crisis mode this week. No elective surgery and we’re about to start rationing medical care. Translated: you get to lie on a gurney gasping for air and dying slowly while others get medical care.
I ordered some Hobbs fusible batting. I had two of my photos printed by Spoonflower. Each photo is centered in a yard of fabric. I’ll be doing the quilting on those by machine and neither lends itself to any kind of beading or other embellishments.
I have one biology teacher who causes quilt designs to dance in my brain. After two years of making quilts about suicide and mass shooting, it’s a relief to work on something fun.
My Biology Journey
My journey started when I was a real college student as opposed to a continuing education student. I took botany to figure out how plants grew. Then, I looked at the other biology courses I wanted to take and the requirements for a degree in biology. All I needed to take was two additional classes. And so I earned two undergraduate degrees – biology and journalism.
I haven’t finished quilting the piece, so there are orange basting threads holding the top, batting and backing together. I’m quilting by hand because I added the beads before making the quilt sandwich. Had I not done that, I could have done the quilting by machine. I have cataracts that can’t be removed because there’s a 25% risk of the retina in my right eye detaching. The cataracts mess with my vision, and I’m having difficulty seeing close up.
I knew there was a molecular overlap between plants and animals. The beads in the lower left corner represent a chlorophyl molecule – magnesium surrounded by four nitrogen molecules, The beads in the upper right corner represent hemoglobin – iron surrounded by four oxygen molecules. The molecules work differently, but I was intrigued by the similarity.
This semester, I learned there’s a structural overlap between plants and animals. The appliqués represent cell-to-cell communications in animals. Some cells are attached. Plant cells have the same structure. This amazed me. The beads represent simple diffusion.
This is a generic cell. The embroidered line with the star bead on one end and white bead on the other end represents a G-coupled protein receptor. It’s one of the ways proteins cross the lipid bilayer membrane. The other beads around the edge represent a trans membrane protein, a protein that is on the outer layer of the lipid bilayer, a protein the rests on the inner layer of the lipid bilayer, an isoform, and a protein that has just been synthesized and is being moved to the cell membrane. While I wasn’t thinking about this when I chose the fabric, the circles can represent various organelles in the cell.
I asked my teacher how proteins get from where they are synthesized to where they need to be. She explained there are transport proteins. And so here’s a transport protein taking a protein where it’s supposed to go. It’s the image I saw in my head when my teacher said transport proteins. This is the kind of imagery that makes me wonder about myself at times.
I have peripheral neuropathy and gave up on useless neurologists a couple years ago. I’d ask questions the neurologists would smile, hand me a prescription, and walk out of the room. I’ve been on a quest to heal my neuropathy. I’m making progress. The bottom appliqués represents a neuron with ion pumps and neurotransmitters. The upper appliqués represents a dendrite. Dendrites are on one end of a nerve cell and the axon is at the other end. The axon spits out neurotransmitters and the dendrite has receptors for neurotransmitters. There’s a neurotransmitter docking with the dendrite. Since I gave up on neurologists, I’ve had less pain and I’m on my way to curing the neuropathy.
Aside from the advantages of living pain free, I want to go to Antarctica. The NSF gives out an artists and writers grant for a nearly all expenses paid trip to Antarctica. There has been some building in the last few years. An engineer came up with a design to allow blowing snow to go under the building rather than burying the building. The new buildings are on stilts and have tiny windows to let in light without letting out heat. I want this grant. But the grant is dependent on me passing a physical – which I can’t do now. Once I cure my neuropathy, I will apply for the grant again. The reason for the physical is in the event of a medical emergency, under ideal weather conditions and assuming a plane is available, the nearest medical care is eight hours away. A couple years ago, a researcher at the South Pole developed pancreatitis and the NSF decreed he must return home. Except it was winter and the continent was dark. This rescue requires a plane equipped to handle extreme cold, and pilots who can fly blind. The only air business with both is based in Canada. There are no visual landmarks to be seen in the winter. The GPS goes a little crazy – longitudinal lines converge at the South Pole. This rescue also required ideal weather conditions – and weather conditions change in a heartbeat on Antarctica. The researcher had to be ready to get on that plane the second it stopped moving. There’s a window of no more than two minutes between touch down and lift off. Any longer on the ground, and the skis freeze to the ice.
The applique represents the new buildings on Antarctica.
The beads represent the Southern Cross. As the Big Dipper, Little Dipper and North Star have been used for navigation in the Northern Hemisphere, both on the sea and traveling the Underground Railroad, the Southern Cross, only visible in the Southern Hemisphere, is used for navigation. I’ve seen the Southern Cross, and I will see it again. I won’t be able to see it when I’m on Antarctica because the grant is only for the summer months. However, there is a requirement to spend a few days before and after being on Antarctica in Christ Church, New Zealand. I will be able to see the Southern Cross there.
90S is the latitude of the geographic South Pole. There are actually three South Poles. A ceremonial South Pole – a frozen place for a spiffy photo op, a geographic South Pole, and a magnetic South Pole located in the ocean. I need to go to the geographic South Pole. I took Jim to the top of the Empire State Building so we could dance on the top of the world. Now, I need to dance on the bottom of the world.
I have proofs of 84 designs and I’m in the process of putting them in my Spoonflower shop here https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman My editing program has some new features and I’ve been playing with geographic when I manipulate my photos. Those manipulated photos are then uploaded to Spoonflower and become my fabric designs.
Jim has made a number of key rings with secret compartments. They are in my store, Deb Thuman Art, here http://www.DebThumanArt.com You need to click on “shop” at the top of the home page in order to see everything that’s in my shop.
Deb's Art 