70. It comes after 69 and before 71. Today, I’m 69. Tomorrow, I’ll be 70. My brain feels 35, but the rest of me is older. I was planning on having beef on weck for my birthday dinner. Weck is a bastardization of the German word kummelweck. It means caraway seed. Kummelweck rolls have coarse salt and caraway seeds on the top. Slice the beef very thin. Put fresh ground horseradish on the sandwich. The plan changed to linguini and raw sauce. Raw sauce is chopped tomato, basil, Kalamata olives and mozzarella. It’s a room temperature sauce. I had this in New York City several years back, and loved it. For a whole lot of reasons, both Jim and I need to switch to a low-fat vegetarian diet. So much for beef on weck. Pass the beans, please.
I’ve been doing a bit of photography today. We’ve been getting rain nearly every day for the last week, and the desert is filled with blooms.
White oleander. I experimented with a setting that’s supposed to give me true colors. And it did. White flowers are tricky because the camera is set for neutral gray.
Barrel cactus – probably 3 feet (1 meter) tall.
Cactus flower on a different barrel cactus. The fruits are edible.
Flower on a low growing cactus.
I’ve been working on sewing anther pair of shorts, and a pair of slacks that I can wear into the paint studio. Every time I walk in that room, I end up covered in paint. The slacks are being made from more of my proof fabrics.
I’ve been working one geometric fabric designs. Eventually, I’ll order proofs of my designs and then put the designs in my Spoonflower shop here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman
Fifty years. A half century. Almost an eternity. The time went fast.
Fifty years ago, Hurricane Agnes roared up the east coast wiping out crops and caused major flooding. At the time, we lived in South Carolina. As I recall, it rained one afternoon, and that was all we got from Agnes.
Fifty years ago, Ms. Magazine came into being. It was a wonderful magazine that didn’t try to shove June Cleaver down my throat. Instead of recipes using boxed mixes, I read about the dalkon shield – an IUD that was taken off the market because it was unsafe. Of course, a few thousand woman had to have their uteruses perforated before the dalkon shield came off the US market. Leftover stock got dumped on Third World countries. “Let George do it!” Let George be in charge of contraception.
Fifty years ago, burglars broke into the Democratic Headquarters in the Watergate Hotel. The purpose? To screw with the Democrats so Nixon could be re-elected. Two young reporters at the Washington Post, Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward, brought down a president by telling the truth about evil in the White House.
Fifty years ago, Nixon signed Title IX into law. People think Title IX is about athletics. It is, but that’s not all it’s about.
“No person in the United States shall on the basis of sex be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity receiving federal financial assistance.”
No mention of athletics. It would take another 18 years before the University at Buffalo School of Law had a class that was 50% women. I was in that class.
Fifty years ago, I got married. I’m still married. To the same guy.
I’ve been working on designs for my Spoonflower shop. Today, I sent off 126 designs to have proofs made. A few days ago, I got back a set of proofs, and I’m working on putting 84 new designs in my Spoonflower shop. These are some of the new designs I’ve been working on.
I think I’ve found a use for all that fabric with proofs on them. Forty-two designs on one yard of fabric. I need to make myself shorts. I also need to make boxers for Jim. The last time I counted, I had 12 yards of proofs.
We celebrated our 50th anniversary on June 3. We started the celebration a day early. Translation: we ate at restaurants two days in a row. Fifty years went by fast. I had hoped to take a special trip, but that’s going to have to wait. Until Brady is fully trained, she can’t travel with me. Once she’s my service dog, she flies free, stays in hotels for free, cruises for free. At the moment, I don’t trust air travel. Sure we’re told there are upgraded filters and the air is recirculated. When were the filters last checked? When will there stop being brawls in mid flight? When will we be able to be assured the flight won’t be cancelled at the last minute? There aren’t enough flight staff so flights are cancelled. The airlines blame the traffic controllers. I blame mismanagement and misuse of funds.
Jim bought me roses for our anniversary. I’ve been photographing individual roses each morning.
I’ve been working on a dress. This dress has only two seams because I had to eliminate the center seams in order for the pattern to fit on the fabric. Then, I discovered the V neck revealed far more cleavage than I’m comfortable showing. The pattern has a modesty panel, and I added that. I had to sew the panel by hand and I didn’t want stitches to show on the right side of the dress. I pushed a clear plastic template under the seam for the facing. That ensured my stitches would not show on the font of the dress.
The dress still looked wrong so I added ties to each side. I should have moved the ties closer to the center front. Too late now; I’m not about to rip out and reattach ties. I’ll make changes to the next dress I make.
Although we’re in no danger from the wildfire in the Gila Wilderness, we’re treated to the particulates and smoke from the fire. That’s not a cloudy sky. That’s a smoky sky. The crud in the air isn’t allergy friendly so I can’t spend much time outside.
There are no clouds today and that’s not a cloudy sky. That’s smoke, particulates, and crud from the wildfire.
4. Discover the printer was set wrong and all 37 pages have to be reprinted.
5. Print out pattern.
6. Tape 37 pages together matching notches.
7. Mark correct cutting lines on the multi-size pattern.
8. Trace pattern onto pattern paper.
9. Make a muslin.
10. Discover the size that matches my measurements is waaaay to big.
11. Adjust pattern pieces.
12. Discover that the special order fabric has disappeared.
13. Find suitable fabric in stash.
14. Iron fabric.
15. Discover that 42″ fabric isn’t wide enough for the pattern.
16. Find the sewing directions.
17. Find the instructions for the seam allowance.
18. Remove center seams on the front and back.
19.Discover I hate the dress.
20. Discover one pattern piece is cut 4 and I cut 2.
21. Discover there’s not enough fabric to cut 2 additional pieces.
22. Design begins when there’s not enough fabric.
I’ve got the dress and interfacing cut out. I’m working on this dress in small increments because I’m afraid I’ll make irreparable mistakes if I try to make the dress in one day.
The wildfire in the Gila – due west of us – is causing haze, stinky air, triggering allergies, and hiding the mountains.
The wildfire in northern New Mexico has consumed more than 300,000 acres. It was started by a controlled burn that got out of control. The Forest Service didn’t follow their own protocol, set a fire on a windy day, and now we have a disaster. The governor wants the feds to pay for firefighting, cleanup, reforestation, repair and rebuild structures that were burnt.
I’ve been battling severe depression for several weeks. My doctor tweaked my psych meds, and I’m much better. The depression is gone. I have energy and a desire to do things.
I wanted to set up the tripod, use my 150-600mm lens and shoot the eclipse. I had a neuropathy flare up and had to use my TENS unit. I had leads going from my feet to the waistband of my pants. Using a tripod under those circumstances is both stupid and dangerous. I used my 18-400mm lens, leaned against a post, and shot the moon.
I’m still decluttering and organizing the sewing room. It seems as if I get one spot clean, and the mess moves to another spot.
I’m finding odds and ends of fabric and I’ve an idea how to use those. The city of Las Cruces has a new ordinance – no single use plastic bags. If a vendor puts your purchases into a paper bag, the vendor must charge 10 cents per bag. Then the vendor must give 5 cents from each bag to the city. Eventually, I’ll go back to setting up at the Farmers Market. I don’t want to keep a second set of books to record how many paper bags and then fill out extra forms to give the city a nickel per bag. The solution: fabric bags. Bags will be assorted sizes. Either buy my art and don’t expect a fabric bag free of charge, buy a bag along with my art, buy just a bag, or bring a bag with you. I’m considering making some larger bags and sewing zippered pockets onto the bag. It’s nice not to have to fish for your car keys after shopping. Just find the zippered pocket. Some bags will be muslin. Some bags will be upholstery fabric. Some bags will have some sort of applique made from small odds and ends of fabric. More than 10 years ago, a friend bought one of my fancier upholstery bags to give to her granddaughter. That bag went through high school, college, and is now going through grad school.
I have been doing a bit of photography. Last night, there was a smiling moon and I’ve been wanting to shoot a smiling moon. Ideally, I would have used my 150-600mm zoom lens and a tripod. Instead, I had a neuropathy flare up. CBD massage oil, CBD oil put into a capsule, gabapentin and marijuana. I wasn’t as steady on my feet as I would have liked and I don’t want to destroy my photography gear. Instead, I used my 18-400mm zoom lens and skipped the tripod. I’m not in love with this shot, but I’m not disappointed, either.
Art is a reliable way to kill neuropathy pain, so I’ve been doing some shooting when I’m in pain. That gave me golden hour shots and some sunset shots.
This one was taken about 45 minutes before sundown. These are the Dona Ana Mountains about six miles behind my house. One of these days, I need to go hiking in these mountains. They are actually part of the caldera of a very long-dead volcano.
I’ve been playing with my photos again and will eventually turn these photos into fabric designs.
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.
It’s time to deep clean the sewing room. I thought I would be able to donate a fair amount of leftover memories, but the donation box is nearly empty. Some memories I am not ready to part with.
As I went through boxes, I found things I don’t remember buying – or maybe these things came from my grandmother’s house. She had a massive stroke, and we had to clean out the house before it could be sold. I took all the sewing things.
I found a small cutting mat that was hidden away. I bought the mat to take with me to a seminar. I could cut leftover fabric for a quilt in my hotel room while waiting to become tired enough to sleep.
I found fabric from more than 40 years ago. Plaid from a skirt I made when I was in college. I bought a lot of polyester back then, including the plaid from the skirt. I’ve no idea if I still have the skirt. If I do, it won’t fit. I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with the leftover plaid.
Yards and yards and yards of white with sprigs of pink flowers from an attempt to make drapes for a sliding glass door. I’m sure I can make something from this fabric, but I can’t imagine what. Maybe boxers for Jim.
Fabric from one of the shirts I made for Jim from nearly 20 years ago. I can do something with these scraps. Eventually.
I found brushed rayon that is left over from a pants suit. Yellow linen look fabric from a dress I made 33 years ago. I’m pretty sure the fabric is polyester, but it’s pretty so I’m keeping it. A bit of raw silk that will make nice lingerie. I want to make bras for myself, so all those little scraps I couldn’t toss out will become bras. Maybe.
Wooden spools with thread which came from my grandmother’s house. When I was little, my grandfather would put four nails into the top of the spool and I’d make long ropes out of yarn. No idea what, if anything, I ever did with the ropes. But I’ll keep the wood spools. The thread, likely more than 50 years old, isn’t useful anymore. Thread has a shelf life. I’ll do something with the spools. Assuming I can find a use for the miles of rope I’ll make.
Buttons and buttons and buttons. I took my grandmother’s button box when we cleaned out her house. A good friend sent me at least 10 pounds of buttons. He said the buttons will give me closure. It’s been years since I bought buttons.
There’s some heavy canvas that would be good for making a purse. Except it’s ecru and boring. Maybe I could add some of the scraps from ancient projects to jazz up the unimaginative fabric.
There’s some metallic copper stretch fabric that is good for….I’ve no idea. The metallic washes off leaving a dull sort of copper in place of the metallic copper. Originally, I made a sports bra and exercise short from the fabric. I used a some of the left over fabric to make my uterus quilt. Doesn’t everyone have a metallic copper uterus and fallopian tubes?
I opened a closet that hasn’t been opened for more than 15 years. I found interesting upholstery fabric that will make a nice purse. Or something. I’ll think of a use for it.
I’ve been collecting vintage knitting and crocheting books for more than 40 years. Now, the pattern books I bought that were cutting edge fashion in 1970 are now vintage. I’ll keep those.
Wheat colored crochet thread thin enough to make nice doilies. Not that I use doilies. Or I could use it for tatting thread. Assuming I can find the tatting shuttle.
I found books from a women’s literature class I took in college 44 years ago. I can’t part with those books even though I ran out of bookcase room years ago. Now, I fill up my iPad with e-books. Space saving, but not something I could read from wile soaking in the tub.
Now that I’ve unpacked the memories, I need to find some sort of plastic tote in which to put them. Then I need to find a place to put the plastic totes. I thought I could put boxes of memories in the closet in my sewing room. But the closet has a weird wall that makes an odd angle on one end of the closet. Not a good place to store boxes of memories.
Eventually, the memories will go into boxes or storage containers. Then I will forget about them until the next time I need to deep clean my sewing room.
Garments are made in southeast Asia and workers are paid less than minimum wage and only a fraction of what workers in the US would be paid. None of the cost saving has been passed on to the consumer.
I’d like to tell you that I sew because I’m appalled by how garment workers are treated. I am appalled, but that isn’t why I sew.
Why do I sew? It’s not to save money because fabric hasn’t been cheap for a very long time. Quality fabric is expensive. Cheap fabric from stores such as Walmart isn’t worth buying.
I sew because I don’t want my clothes to look like everyone else’s clothes. I sew because I like to sew. I sew because the entire world disappears when I’m making art. I sew because I love color and detest that Panetone imposes colors of the year on us. I’m a grownup; I can choose colors all by myself. I sew because I love dying and manipulating fabric. I sew because I like designing fabric and love having fabric no one else has.
I’m also tweaking the pattern. I like having zippered pockets in my purses. So I’m adding zippered pockets. I like to have an outside pocket for my keys and another outside pocket for my cellphone. I like an inside pocket to house my passport and emergency psych meds. Another inside pocket will hold one of the pens Jim made for me and my checkbook. I also like having a recessed zipper at the top of my purse.
Before we moved to New Mexico, Jim worked for a high end furniture factory. Employees could buy leftover upholstery fabric for $1 a yard. This was fabric that originally cost $70 a yard. It’s heavy duty upholstery fabric and perfect for purses and bags. The current messenger bag in progress will be the prototype. I’ll make final tweaks and then make a perfect-for-me messenger bag.
I’ve been designing fabric. A few start to finish photos….
Here’s what I did with a photo of the seed pod on a red yucca that’s in my yard.
Seed pods on barrel cacti are edible although I’ve never eaten one.
I had seen a photo in Threads magazine of a garment made from fabric that was pastel squares.
Dead cactus pads, dead agave leaves, dead plants all can be turned into interesting fabric.
Sometimes, instead of an editing progression starting with the original and ending when I can’t make another good design from that fabric, I’ll take an original photo, edit, revert to original, edit, revert to original and so on until there’s nothing more I can do with the photo. That’s what happened with this shot.
Not every photo gets turned into fabric – just the ones that I find are intriguing. Eventually, I’ll proof designs and put them into my Spoonflower shop here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman
Deb's Art 