There’s something weird growing on my arm. It changed colors. It grew larger. The border is erratic. The thing is scaly. All the stuff that indicates cancer. I saw the dermatologist. He said it wasn’t melanoma, the most dangerous skin cancer. He did a biopsy. I will have to wait at least a week for the pathology report to find out what this thing is.
In the meantime, I find myself making a bucket list. There are two trips I want to take. One is to New York City to shop at Mood. I want to fondle fancy fabric and buy the kinds of fabric I’ve never worked with. The second is a Hawaiian cruise. I’d like to spend a couple extra days and see Volcanos National Park. I want to see flowers and green in the winter. I want to swim in the ocean again. I will take Brady on both trips. I will have to have some forms filled out by the vet for the Hawaii trip.
My iPad is from 2017. It still works, but it does’t have all the bells and whistles the new iPad Pro has. I ordered one this morning from the campus bookstore. Along with educational pricing, I get a free iPencil. I need a more powerful drawing program in order to design more fabric. I also need to work on the second novel. I’m at the point where stuff gets written only to get pruned.
I have a few bra kits in my sewing room. I need to sew them. I need to sew slacks to wear to school. I’ve got a free pattern from Mood and need to make a muslin.
I am frozen. I’m finding it hard to get going on projects.
I still have photography. I got my first SLR for Valentine’s Day 1980. I took that camera everywhere and shot everything. I got my latest DSLR for Valentine’s Day 2020. I take the camera everywhere and shoot everything.
I did some landscape/outdoor photography today. I’m able to walk farther and stand longer although I still have limitations.
Fall in southern New Mexico doesn’t look like fall in New York. Instead of reds, yellows, oranges just before the leaves fall, we get green. We don’t get rain in the spring; we get rain in the summer. This is one of the wildflowers that grow and bloom this time of year.
These are chocolate flowers. You can’t eat them, but they smell like the finest chocolate. Because it’s cooler, I could take this shot after lunch. In the summer, the flowers go to seed within a few hours.
This is one of the desert sage growing in my yard. The shrub is triggered to bloom when there’s sufficient humidity. The bushes will bloom several times during the summer. The flowers only last a. couple days and then the ground is purple.
Brady, the world’s cutest labradoodle, will be celebrating her third birthday on Tuesday.
Brady is learning to be my service dog, and we had a service dog group session yesterday. To celebrate her birthday, I made 20 hand-dyed dog bandanas. The humans for the four other dogs in the service dog group picked out bandanas for their dogs.
Rather than doing tie dye with string, I used binder clips to make a resist.
We’re having a critique in my painting class on Tuesday. I thought I was done with three self-portraits, but I saw a fourth in my head and it demanded to be painted.
The word on the yellow painting is the Hebrew word for life.
The words on the green painting are the Hebrew for “I am,” and “I will be.”
I still have no voice on campus, but I will not be silent.
Every time I think I’m over reacting, I realize what happened is worse than I thought. First, I thought the person’s reaction was odd. Then, I realized it was anti-semitism. Then, I discovered the person slandered me. Then I discovered the university views slander as protected speech. It’s not; but I know the attorney who made that decision and I’m not surprised by such a glaring misstatement of law.
22K+ students at NMSU, and I’m the lone Jew. Hillel has no presence on campus. Chabad has no presence on campus. In 44 semesters of continuing education, only twice was there another Jew in my class.
I’m alone.
I’m armed at all times when I’m on campus. I carry pepper gel and a stun gun. I have a safety plan in place. I have the campus police telephone number programmed into my phone.
According to the president of the university, if I’m upset by what’s happening in Israel, I should go to counseling. According to the Office of Institutional Equity, if I’m upset by the hate crime hurled at me, I should go to counseling.
This past Tuesday, I went to the campus police to report that what I thought was odd, rose to the level of a hate crime pursuant to New Mexico law. Knowing I couldn’t manage without Brady, my service dog in training, I took her with me. I had to hug her twice just to get through the day.
After taking to the police, I was so upset about being on the receiving end of a hate crime, I couldn’t eat and could not enjoy the drink I ordered at Starbucks. Brady and I explored the library. Here she is looking at books and searching for the book with the recipes for dog treats.
I had arranged to meet with my painting teacher outside of the painting studio. It was a good plan. Except I had to go into the painting studio to fetch my paintings and the hate criminal was in the painting studio.
The next morning, I woke up and decided the hate criminal had taken all she was going to take away from me and I was taking back my life. The hate criminal isn’t done with me yet. Apparently, she has the mental capacity of a 12-year-old and is doing petty, childish things just to piss me off. I’m doing my best to ignore her. She’s not going away, but neither am I.
My art has changed.
It’s not finished and the painting is on an easel so there’s only so much I can do to eliminate the background.
Also not finished and also still on the easel. Suddenly, I’m painting about being alone, I’m facing evil, and no one is going to help me. I’m trying not to hate Muslims. I’m trying to remember that Muslims are not terrorists and terrorists are not Muslims. Terrorists worship hatred and murder. News organizations have gotten recordings of terrorists’ cell phone calls bragging about murdering Jews on October 7, 2023.
According to the Anti-Defamation League, “Since the October 7th terrorist massacre by Hamas in Israel, we’ve seen a nearly 400 percent increase in antisemitic incidents across the United States.”
The fact that the crap that has happened to me is happening to Jewish students on college campuses across the country doesn’t make me feel better. There’s a new rallying cry at Columbia law school: Fuck Jews.
I’m alone.
I’m scared.
I have only myself to rely on to protect me.
The last time I had this much anxiety, I was studying for the NY bar exam.
March 5, 2012 was the day I was finally correctly diagnosed: bipolar disorder. Suddenly, my life made sense.
March 9, 2021 was the day ketamine banished a bone-crushing depression.
March 13, 2020 was the day New Mexico shut down. I’ve had insomnia ever since.
March 20, 2018 was the day I realized the reason I formulated a detailed plan to commit suicide was depression. It was also the day I decided to live and immediately went back on an antidepressant.
This past week was spring break. This past week was frustrating. This past week was, and still is, painful. I’m having a neuropathy flare up bad enough to keep me home rather than going in to school and working on the four self-portraits assigned in my painting class. I am significantly behind working on those paintings and fear I won’t have them done by the day they are due. The grade doesn’t matter because I’m not working towards another degree. What matters is having the work done on time, and it won’t be. I am embarrassed by this.
We are working on still lives in the photography class. This is part of what I handed in.
Home made abortion tools; it’s a political statement.
Auditioning fabric.
Dead Life.
I rarely use live view, but I used it for this photo. I was setting up another shot, looked down, and saw what the camera “saw.” It was more interesting than the shot I had planned.
Peace. It’s my palate for my painting class. When I’m in the Art Zone, neuropathy pain disappears, the world disappears, I forget to use the bathroom. I love being in the Art Zone.
Cheshire moon. I love taking shots of a less than full moon. I wasn’t steady enough to set up the tripod and use the 150-600mm lens. The marijuana I use to combat neuropathy pain leaves me stoned and walking into walls. I used the 18-400mm lens that was on the camera.
I worked on turning some photos into fabric designs. Eventually, I’ll have them in my Spoonflower shop.
Sewing room decluttering, organizing, and deep cleaning continues. I found three incredibly dusty thread organizers I had forgotten I had. This is good because I have more thread than the new thread organizers I bought can hold. I’m putting together a box of goodies to be donated to a thrift store. I’ve kept the wooden thread spools because of memories. My grandfather would hammer four nails into the top of an empty wooden thread spool and I’m make yarn ropes. This was a way to keep me occupied, and I thought they were wonderful toys. I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with the spools, but I can’t bring myself to throw them out. Some memories need to be kept.
We’ve had some wild weather the last few days and I photographed the storm blowing in and the resulting rain and mountain eating fog.
Brady is now 35 pounds. Jim took her to the shop and let her zoom. Here, she’s taking a brief rest. She’s got boundless energy. She plays hard, then she sleeps hard to prepare for the next zoom.
PTSD sometimes takes a while to appear. I’m now having flashbacks from the hell I went through at the public defender office from February 2007 to November 12, 2015 when I retired. I’ll have to work on this with my psychologist. I believe flashbacks are my brain’s way of indicating that I can now process the emotions I had during the trauma. I get tired of the flashbacks. I lived through the crap once and I’ve no desire to live through it a second time.
I’ve been making progress on the spirit dancing quilt. I gave up on using iridescent fabrics because they just didn’t work against a dark background. Instead, I’ve re-designed the quilt and now it’s about dancing in the place where I buried the ghosts. This is one of the trails at Rushford Lake. We had a cottage there. I used to walk these trails every weekend because I needed to get away from my toxic family. One summer, my mother decided to take my siblings out to the lake for the week and left me home to babysit the drunk. I’d spend the day going through cookbooks to find something interesting to make for dinner. Eventually, the drunk would stagger in and announce he had already eaten dinner. I asked my mother if I could go out to the lake with her and my siblings. No. That’s how much she hated me. Later, I discovered that although my siblings and spouses could go to the lake and stay at the cottage, I couldn’t. In 2018, we traveled to Rushford Lake and I buried the ghosts that had haunted me for 50 years.
I’m not sure if I like what I’ve done so I’m letting the quilt sit for a few days. Frequently, something I thought looked terrible, looked much better the next day.
Brady looks so innocent when she’s asleep. Usually, I don’t like a photo to be this grainy, but I like how this shot came out. I used my cell phone for this shot.
My eyesight is getting better each day. My right eye is 20/25 and my left eye is 20/30. Before cataract surgery, my vision was worse than 20/200. It’s interesting having to learn to take off my glasses when I need to see distance and to put on my glasses when I need to see things up close.
I now have a pair of reading glasses, each with a beaded string, in my office, my sewing room, the living room (so I can knit while watching TV) and in my purse. And I have a pair of decent sunglasses. Used to be, I had bifocals, computer glasses, and sunglasses for distance only.
I’ve been working with watercolor pencils and watercolor crayons to make backgrounds for fabric designs. I like how the colors blend when I brush water over the paper. Spoonflower had a sale and free shipping so I ordered proofs for 84 designs. Several of the designs are whole cloth designs to be added to the whole cloth designs already in my Spoonflower shop here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman
Setting up at the Farmers & Craft Market isn’t an option. Jim is getting physical therapy for the repair to a torn rotator cuff and a torn bicep. EZ-Up is a misnomer. It doesn’t go up easy, and it requires two people to set it up. Then weights have to be attached to each corner to keep the EZ-Up from becoming a Flying-Up. Jim doesn’t have full range of motion in his arm yet. Instead, I’ll be adding things to my store, Deb Thuman Art, each week. My store is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com
I made some snowflakes. I bought some small frames and some large frames. These are made with the small frames. I also made a beaded string for reading glasses. The snowflakes and beaded string will be going into my store in the next couple days. I need to figure out pricing. It’s interesting trying to find a price point where I make a profit, but I haven’t priced the piece so high that few people would be interested in buying the piece. No, I haven’t figured out a magic formula.
Brady held still long enough for me to focus the camera. She’s eight months old and weighs 33 pounds.
I shot the sunset the other day.
Jim went to a thrift store and came home with a Nordic Ware snowman cake pan. $6.00. I feel a pound cake coming on.
I joined Seamwork a few weeks back because I got a dandy deal and I liked a number of the patterns. One pattern is for a long, v-neck pullover dress. I’ll be modeling for the art department at New Mexico State University this semester and I’ll need some sort of cover-up for when I model nude. Yep. I’m a geriatric nude model. The dress pattern would make a perfect cover up. I’ve been toying with ideas. Do I want to do color blocking? If so, I need to start figuring out what kind of shibori pattern I want and start dyeing fabric. Or I could do batik. Or I could order one of the fabrics I designed in my Spoonflower shop https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman. Or I could sit here with indecision growing all around me.
I thought I had found my favorite shorts pattern, but I was wrong. It’s a pattern from several pounds ago. Seamwork has a shorts pattern that’s close to my favorite pattern. I have some old sheets that we no longer use that would be good for making a muslin. I got as far as printing out the pattern. I haven’t taped the pieces together. I haven’t measured me. I haven’t gotten out an old sheet.
I signed up for a Seamwork class and made a disconcerting discovery. I don’t have a clothing style. I also don’t want to have a clothing style. I don’t like what’s on the market. I don’t like anything I’ve seen on Pinterest or Instagram. I’m overweight and clothes shown on the covers of sewing patterns or on Instagram and Pinterest are modeled by anorexic women. No idea what these clothes would look like on me. Patterns for “plus size” women usually look like a tent with an elastic waistband. Um, no.
I’ve started getting jewelry ready to sell at the local farmers market. I’d planned on setting up in November when it’s cooler and everyone is looking for Christmas presents. Unfortunately, the self-centered, selfish people who refuse to get vaccinated or wear a mask have caused a surge of covid cases. There’s now a waiting list for an ICU bed in all of New Mexico. I don’t know if I’ll want to set up at the farmers market. Selling my art is nice. Dying because some people don’t take this virus seriously is not nice. My online store, Deb Thuman Art, http://www.DebThumanArt.com has a generous supply of jewelry and fiber art for sale.
Having been cleared to have cataract surgery, I called the specialist in Albuquerque in early July and got an appointment for October 1. I’ll keep the appointment, but I can’t imagine elective surgery being scheduled before next summer. With the ICU beds filled, the hospitals full of covid cases, elective surgery can’t be done safely. Meanwhile, I’m having problems seeing especially seeing up close. I am beyond angry at the self-centered, selfish people who insist on not being vaccinated or wearing a mask.
Brady ate dental floss yesterday. Dental floss can be deadly. We gently squirted hydrogen peroxide down her throat to make her throw up. After she threw up, I had to take a stick and fish in her vomit until I found the dental floss. It was a terrifying hour before the crisis was over.
She’s faster than a speeding shutter. She’s chomping on an unimaginative toy I made for her. She demolished a toy and I grabbed the squeaker before she could eat it. I put the squeaker into this toy, but the squeaker doesn’t squeak. It just clicks. This is good; that squeaker was obnoxious.
I’ve been doing a bit of photography. We’ve had a lot of rain for a desert in the past few weeks. The light when there’s a storm blowing in makes for interesting, albeit frustrating, photography. Do I keep the photo dark which reflects what I see? Do I tinker in editing to make everything artificially bright?
I’ve been experimenting with evaluative and spot metering. After seeing the shots on my laptop, I decided that I’ll stick to evaluative metering. I seem to be getting better color that way.
Bipolar disorder sucks. Near as I can tell, I’m having a mixed episode – both manic and depressed simultaneously. My responses to things are enlarged. I’m depressed and am having problems shaking the depression. The PTSD, which is likely driving this mixed episode, has taken a miserable turn. While I still have flashbacks about growing up in a house run by a violent, drunken narcissist and her violent drunken husband, the flashbacks are no longer debilitating but they are still a nuisance. Now, I’m having flashbacks about working for the public defender department. There was a lot of trauma in that job. I moved from western New York to southern New Mexico by myself. Jim stayed in New York to sell the house. I didn’t know anyone in New Mexico. My supervisor refused to talk to me for two days when I arrived. That should have been a serious warning sign but I wanted that job so I stayed in New Mexico. Nine years later, I had to sue the department because of discrimination based on my age. I had a boss who was, to put it gently, a raving, screaming lunatic. I had 11 jobs in one year because he was trying to force me to quit. I stuck around because I wasn’t going to let anyone screw me out of my pension. Just writing this has unearthed miserable memories. I retired when I got pushed once too often. Within two weeks of retiring, I no longer had back pain and I didn’t need medication to sleep. Within six months, I no longer needed medication to control my blood pressure.
Brady is now five months old and she either has the doggy version of the terrible twos or the doggy version of oppositional defiant disorder. At least she seems to understand that she needs to pee and poop outside rather than on the kitchen floor. Now that I’ve given up on trying to confine Brady to the kitchen, she and the cats are having peace talks. The talks aren’t going well. I’m staying out of the discussion.
I’ve gotten some new, exciting beads and haven’t been able to work with them. The one time Brady snuck into the sewing room where I make clothes, quilts and jewelry, she picked up a discarded scrap of fabric and proceeded to chew on it. It’s not that she could hurt the scrap, it’s that the scrap could get stuck in her throat. Although I’m home all day, creating has to wait until the weekend when Jim can occupy Brady.
Three years ago, we flew to Buffalo, NY. In part to see a quilt show, in part to see friends, in part to give me the opportunity to bury the ghosts. We went to Rushford Lake where so much misery happened to me. I found a nice spot and buried the ghosts. Several years back, I took an acting class taught be someone who understood visions and intuition. During one class, I saw my spirit dancing in the woods. My spirit was an iridescent figure. I’ve been wanting to turn that vision into a quilt. I will be having Spoonflower print up one of the photos from that trip. Now to figure out how to make an iridescent figure and to show the figure dancing. I’ve got some chiffon that might work. I’ll have to play around with this idea some more.
When things got unbearable, I’d take a walk. Here’s where my walk would start.
Here’s where I buried the ghosts.
My birthday is Sunday and major life events happen around my birthday. I started college the week after my 25th birthday and started law school on my 38th birthday. For the first time in I forget how long, I can eat whatever I want and drink whatever I want on my birthday. For a few years, I would either have a crown pop off or a tooth break. We’ll be going to Starbucks for my free birthday drink. I’m going to be baking a pineapple upside down cake and making croissants for my birthday. I’m also planning on going to Walgreens to get a flu shot. If I get my flu shot around the time of my birthday each year, I don’t have to worry about forgetting to get the shot.
I’m having a rough day. There’s no particular reason for it; it’s just part of being bipolar. I have limited energy, but I seem to be manic. Bipolar disorder doesn’t have to make sense, but I have to live with bipolar disorder. Meds help dull the extremes, but they don’t cure bipolar disorder. Bipolar disorder is always with me. Sometimes just under the surface. Sometimes exploding through the surface.
Brady, the Australian labradoodle puppy I have, did something remarkable today. She could smell my distress and instinctively leaned up against me – something psychiatric service dogs are trained to do. Of course a couple hours later, she decorated the kitchen floor with poop and pee. It’s not easy being a puppy. Not easy being the puppy’s human, either.
Good thing Brady didn’t like the doggy wading pool Jim found in the garbage. The pool grew legs the other day. Now, there’s a security camera covering the back of the house.
The sciatica is still hanging around. I’m able to walk farther, but farther is a relative term. It means I can walk out the back door with Brady, so 10 feet to her potty spot, and then come back in the house. I need to exercise. Brady gets separation anxiety whenever I leave the kitchen. She’s not ready yet to have the run of the house so I have to keep her in the kitchen. I’m sure the healing process has stretched out because of how inactive I’ve been.
We seem to be surrounded by randy quail. So far, I’ve counted four batches of day-old baby quail. When I shoot quail, I have to do it through the sliding glass door. As long as the quail aren’t aware of me, they don’t run off. While I would have liked to have my 150-600mm lens on the camera, what was on the camera was my 18-400mm lens. Taking the time to change lenses would have meant missing the shots. I played around with cropping the shot when I was editing. The John Prine fuzz on the baby quail’s head cracks me up.
The original shot. While this is the quail version of Where’s Waldo, it’s easy to see how tiny day-old quail are.
The first crop. Quail are easier to find, but they look bigger than they are in real life.
The second crop. Almost there. There’s more detail, but the edit didn’t seem right.
The third crop.
My Spoonflower order is now about 40 miles away and I likely won’t get my package until Monday. Sigh. I really want to start making undies although my time in the sewing room is limited to when Jim is home. There are too many places in the sewing room where Brady can get into trouble. I’d go into the sewing room, which is off the kitchen, and close the door, but Brady has severe separation anxiety. I’m trying to help her with that, but I don’t seem to have made much progress.
Brady likes to hide out in the pet carrier in the kitchen. I think it’s because it’s dark inside the carrier and she feels safe in her den. She’s not fond of the crate we have for her. I decided to make the crate more den like. I took a sheet, crudely attached the sheet to the crate, and created a darkened den. I put Brady’s toys in her new den. She refuses to go inside the den.
I’ve been playing around with designs that might make interesting fabric. Here’s the latest:
Living with a puppy makes life interesting. Brady has to be by her humans. The sewing room needs to be deep cleaned, but I can’t do that if I’m the only one home. There are way too many places where Brady can hide and leave deposits. Plus, she has only two speeds: Mach III and asleep. Temperatures are hitting 99-104 this week. Brady doesn’t want to be outside when it’s this hot. I suppose if I wore a fur coat, I wouldn’t want to be outside either. Once she has all her shots, I want to get her groomed. I think she would be more comfortable if she has less hair.
Not being able to clean and use the sewing room means binding won’t be put on three quilts and a fourth won’t be quilted. I get spiritually constipated if I don’t make art. Making art without having enough room to make art requires creativity.
I have a sketch book that contains the drawings from a plant taxonomy class I took, reminders for what to put into the novel, and quilt sketches. I’m a multi-media artists, and my sketchbook reflects that.
These are from my plant taxonomy class. I thought they were something I’d never use again until I looked at them today. There are quilts in these.
These are the germination of quilts. Some have been used after some tweaking. Some might never be used.
Ideas for things to put into the novel I’m writing.
I’m still awaiting the arrival of the fabric I ordered from Spoonflower. I took five of my designs, ordered them in a 4-way stretch lycra, and the fabric will be turned into underwear.
I’m also awaiting an order from Nancy’s Notions. The order was placed May 31, and won’t be here until Friday, June 11. Because of the slow shipping, I probably won’t be ordering from Nancy’s Notions again. Pity – I used to love ordering from them.
I had ordered beads fromJL Dream Works https://www.etsy.com/shop/JLDreamWorks?ref=yr_purchases Great service, and the semi-precious gem beads are all good quality and great prices. It’s nice to have another reliable supplier for beads.
I’ve used up all my spoons, and It’s only 11:30 AM
Spoons are a way of explaining energy or lack of energy. If energy is represented by 12 spoons, after all 12 spoons are used, there’s no energy left. No energy to walk around. No energy to cook. No energy to make art. No energy left for anything other than shuffling into the bedroom and taking a nap.
The sciatic problem is becoming less and less each day. With that comes the ability to walk more and more without my walker. That’s the problem. I feel better, so I walk without my walker longer than I should. That’s how I used up all my spoons this morning. The worst was me walking Brady and discovering I was out of spoons. I wasn’t near a door when the spoons were all used up. I leaned against the car, called to Jim to take Brady, then gingerly made my way into the house.
My feet hurt because they are swollen, they are swollen because I’m not active, I’m not active because I have no spoons left. This sucks.
I was hoping to get outside and photograph the yuccas blooming, but that’s no longer possible today because I have no spoons left. I’d have to push the walker up hill. Through sand. While trying to find a large enough distance between cacti that can accommodate the walker. All while trying to keep my camera from knocking against the walker. I’m missing spring.
I got down on the floor yesterday so I could photograph Brady on her level. I shot in RAW only because I had the camera set on RAW when I saw we had day-old baby quail and I wanted to be ready to photograph them. I set the camera to rapid burst. 92 photos, and some were even decent.
Spoons are a way of explaining energy or lack of energy. If energy is represented by 12 spoons, after all 12 spoons are used, there’s no energy left. No energy to walk around. No energy to cook. No energy to make art. No energy left for anything other than shuffling into the bedroom and taking a nap.
The sciatic problem is becoming less and less each day. With that comes the ability to walk more and more without my walker. That’s the problem. I feel better, so I walk without my walker longer than I should. That’s how I used up all my spoons this morning. The worst was me walking Brady and discovering I was out of spoons. I wasn’t near a door when the spoons were all used up. I leaned against the car, called to Jim to take Brady, then gingerly made my way into the house.
My feet hurt because they are swollen, they are swollen because I’m not active, I’m not active because I have no spoons left. This sucks.
I was hoping to get outside and photograph the yuccas blooming, but that’s no longer possible today because I have no spoons left. I’d have to push the walker up hill. Through sand. While trying to find a large enough distance between cacti that can accommodate the walker. All while trying to keep my camera from knocking against the walker. I’m missing spring.
I got down on the floor yesterday so I could photograph Brady on her level. I shot in RAW only because I had the camera set on RAW when I saw we had day-old baby quail and I wanted to be ready to photograph them. I set the camera to rapid burst. 92 photos, and some were even decent.
Spoons are a way of explaining energy or lack of energy. If energy is represented by 12 spoons, after all 12 spoons are used, there’s no energy left. No energy to walk around. No energy to cook. No energy to make art. No energy left for anything other than shuffling into the bedroom and taking a nap.
The sciatic problem is becoming less and less each day. With that comes the ability to walk more and more without my walker. That’s the problem. I feel better, so I walk without my walker longer than I should. That’s how I used up all my spoons this morning. The worst was me walking Brady and discovering I was out of spoons. I wasn’t near a door when the spoons were all used up. I leaned against the car, called to Jim to take Brady, then gingerly made my way into the house.
My feet hurt because they are swollen, they are swollen because I’m not active, I’m not active because I have no spoons left. This sucks.
I was hoping to get outside and photograph the yuccas blooming, but that’s no longer possible today because I have no spoons left. I’d have to push the walker up hill. Through sand. While trying to find a large enough distance between cacti that can accommodate the walker. All while trying to keep my camera from knocking against the walker. I’m missing spring.
I got down on the floor yesterday so I could photograph Brady on her level. I shot in RAW only because I had the camera set on RAW when I saw we had day-old baby quail and I wanted to be ready to photograph them. I set the camera to rapid burst. 92 photos, and some were even decent.
Spoons are a way of explaining energy or lack of energy. If energy is represented by 12 spoons, after all 12 spoons are used, there’s no energy left. No energy to walk around. No energy to cook. No energy to make art. No energy left for anything other than shuffling into the bedroom and taking a nap.
The sciatic problem is becoming less and less each day. With that comes the ability to walk more and more without my walker. That’s the problem. I feel better, so I walk without my walker longer than I should. That’s how I used up all my spoons this morning. The worst was me walking Brady and discovering I was out of spoons. I wasn’t near a door when the spoons were all used up. I leaned against the car, called to Jim to take Brady, then gingerly made my way into the house.
My feet hurt because they are swollen, they are swollen because I’m not active, I’m not active because I have no spoons left. This sucks.
I was hoping to get outside and photograph the yuccas blooming, but that’s no longer possible today because I have no spoons left. I’d have to push the walker up hill. Through sand. While trying to find a large enough distance between cacti that can accommodate the walker. All while trying to keep my camera from knocking against the walker. I’m missing spring.
I got down on the floor yesterday so I could photograph Brady on her level. I shot in RAW only because I had the camera set on RAW when I saw we had day-old baby quail and I wanted to be ready to photograph them. I set the camera to rapid burst. 92 photos, and some were even decent.
Spoons are a way of explaining energy or lack of energy. If energy is represented by 12 spoons, after all 12 spoons are used, there’s no energy left. No energy to walk around. No energy to cook. No energy to make art. No energy left for anything other than shuffling into the bedroom and taking a nap.
The sciatic problem is becoming less and less each day. With that comes the ability to walk more and more without my walker. That’s the problem. I feel better, so I walk without my walker longer than I should. That’s how I used up all my spoons this morning. The worst was me walking Brady and discovering I was out of spoons. I wasn’t near a door when the spoons were all used up. I leaned against the car, called to Jim to take Brady, then gingerly made my way into the house.
My feet hurt because they are swollen, they are swollen because I’m not active, I’m not active because I have no spoons left. This sucks.
I was hoping to get outside and photograph the yuccas blooming, but that’s no longer possible today because I have no spoons left. I’d have to push the walker up hill. Through sand. While trying to find a large enough distance between cacti that can accommodate the walker. All while trying to keep my camera from knocking against the walker. I’m missing spring.
I got down on the floor yesterday so I could photograph Brady on her level. I shot in RAW only because I had the camera set on RAW when I saw we had day-old baby quail and I wanted to be ready to photograph them. I set the camera to rapid burst. 92 photos, and some were even decent.
Spoons are a way of explaining energy or lack of energy. If energy is represented by 12 spoons, after all 12 spoons are used, there’s no energy left. No energy to walk around. No energy to cook. No energy to make art. No energy left for anything other than shuffling into the bedroom and taking a nap.
The sciatic problem is becoming less and less each day. With that comes the ability to walk more and more without my walker. That’s the problem. I feel better, so I walk without my walker longer than I should. That’s how I used up all my spoons this morning. The worst was me walking Brady and discovering I was out of spoons. I wasn’t near a door when the spoons were all used up. I leaned against the car, called to Jim to take Brady, then gingerly made my way into the house.
My feet hurt because they are swollen, they are swollen because I’m not active, I’m not active because I have no spoons left. This sucks.
I was hoping to get outside and photograph the yuccas blooming, but that’s no longer possible today because I have no spoons left. I’d have to push the walker up hill. Through sand. While trying to find a large enough distance between cacti that can accommodate the walker. All while trying to keep my camera from knocking against the walker. I’m missing spring.
I got down on the floor yesterday so I could photograph Brady on her level. I shot in RAW only because I had the camera set on RAW when I saw we had day-old baby quail and I wanted to be ready to photograph them. I set the camera to rapid burst. 92 photos, and some were even decent.
Jim is making dog treats from a recipe I found. Oat flour (or ground up oatmeal – which is what oat flour is), banana and peanut butter. They’re baking at the moment. Brady adores peanut butter.
I intended to shoot several necklaces so I could list the necklaces in my store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.DebThumanArt.com. I shot just one necklace before my lower back started to hurt. I’m getting better, but I’m still having to push a walker to get around. Yesterday, I intended to do some cleaning in the sewing room so I’d have a larger space in which to work. I picked up something that was too heavy and I hurt my lower back. Having a neuropathy flare up rounds out the physical miseries.
I can’t photograph yucca blooms because I can’t push a walker uphill through sand. I can’t sew because I can’t remove the clutter from the room. I can’t walk Brady because I can’t walk far without my walker. Brady doesn’t understand why she can’t run and play if I’m holding her leash.
Brady is going through a growth spurt. Suddenly, her legs are too long for her body. She’s also faster than the speeding shutter.
My brain is dark. After my only ketamine treatment, my brain felt full and bright. Now, two and a half months later, my brain is dark again. So. Do I ask for another ketamine treatment? Do I ask to be a participant in a clinical trial for LSD or MDMA? Or do I just go forward and hope for the best? I don’t remember what happy feels like. I’ve been depressed for more than 60 years. Which is depressing. I’m not suicidal. I’m not happy. Right now, I feel like my life is all broken pieces. Pick up a piece, have pain, drop a piece.
Spoonflower had a sale, I had Spoon Dollars – commission on fabric designs that have been sold – and I needed underwear. Soon, five 1-yard pieces of fabric I designed will arrive at my door. Yes, I will post photos of the finished underwear. No, I will not be modeling the underwear. You’re welcome.
Deb's Art 