Posted in Censorship, Freedom of Speech, Freedom to criticize the government, The Death of the United States of America

The Death of Democracy

Posted on by debthumanblog

This land is your land, this land is my land…

Once upon a time, there was a wonderful experiment. It was call the United States of America.

From California to the New York Islands…..

There was no country on earth like it. People could speak their mind. People could worship, or not, as they pleased. People could assemble. People could criticize their government and their leaders. The press were not censored. It was amazing. It was worth dying for. And people did die for this country and for the rights contained in The Bill of Rights.

From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters…

There were free elections and a process was put in place for the peaceful change of power when a new president was elected.

This land was made for you and me.

Don’t look for this country. It no longer exists. Marc Zuckerberg, whose mouth is firmly attached to the narcissistic sociopath’s appendage common to males, has frozen my Facebook account. It’s not safe to criticize the government. It’s not safe to refer to the idiot in the White House as a narcissistic sociopath even though his niece, Mary Trump, a psychologist, wrote in her book that narcissistic sociopath is an accurate diagnosis. It’s not safe to refer to a man who lied to get low interest loans to build exploding cars as a nazi even after he proudly gave a nazi salute.

As I was walking, I saw a sign there…

I’ve been an attorney for 31 years. I began my career as a cooperating attorney for the New York Civil Liberties Union. I’m proud of the work I did for the NYCLU. I’m proud of how I fought my guts out for my indigent clients. I’m proud of how I fought to keep the state from steamrolling over my clients.

And on the sign it said no trespassing…

I know better than to ask the ACLU for help. I’ve been the recipient of two anti-semitic hate crimes. The ACLU couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge my request for help. Instead, the ACLU offered legal assistance to groups financed by terrorist organizations and swallowed the lie about Israel starting a war with Hamas.

But on the other side, it didn’t say nothing…..

Pete Seeger was called before the House Unamerican Activities Committee for signing one song. A famous song written by Woody Guthrie.

That side was made for you and me.

When I needed financial aid to attend law school, I had to sign an oath that I wouldn’t attempt to overthrow the government by violent means. After law school, four times I stood in court – in NY, in NM, in Federal District Court, and in the Supreme Court of the United States, I stuck up my right hand and made a promise to uphold the constitution. I meant it every time. Let me make one thing extremely clear to the narcissistic sociopath, the trailer trash VP, their nazi buddy and all their brainless minions: If you want to shut me up, you need large calibre firepower. In the meantime, I’m going to uphold the Constitution and the Bill of Rights.

Here’s the verse that got Pete in good trouble:

Nobody living can ever stop me, 
As I go walking that freedom highway; 
Nobody living can ever make me turn back 
This land was made for you and me.

Posted in Broken Foot Misery

Tired of having my life contract

Posted on by debthumanblog

While I can roll the wheelchair around the house, I can’t get outside unless it’s for a medical reason. We have a flagstone walkway in the front of the house and it’s exactly the right size to make wheelchair wheels land in gravel. I can’t get to the back patio because the back door is too narrow to get a wheelchair through. Getting outside through the garage is not a one-person operation. First, I have to do what I can to hold the door open while Jim backs me through the door. I have to go through backwards because there’s a tiny 1″ bump under the door. That 1″ might as well be the Great Wall of China. Then, there’s a 3″ step that Jim has to back me down. He made a ramp to make getting up and down that step easier. Then Jim has to get me over a small bump under the overhead garage door. I can’t navigate any of these bumps by myself.

The claret cup cactus are blooming, and I could only glance at the blooms on my way in and out of the car before and after we got covid boosters.

With this much hardware in my foot, I’m not about to go walking around until my doctor says I can. No photography. No sewing. No cleaning out the junk room. No baking. If we do go somewhere, I have to make sure I don’t drink anything so I don’t have to use a bathroom. I’ve discovered the hard way that the handicap stall in public restrooms doesn’t accommodate wheelchairs.

Bathing is a two-person process. Jim wraps my foot and leg in a garbage bag and cling wrap to keep water out. That’s what the doctor recommended after he explained those “water tight” boots aren’t water tight – they are water resistant. I use a tub chair and hang my fiberglass encased foot over the edge of the bathtub. It is not fun. It’s cold. Because we’re using the hose with the shower head attached, there’s time when I’m wet, but no hot water is rolling over me. I’m cold most of the time because I’m less active. Wet and cold sucks. Jim has to help me bathe and help me dry off. Then, he gets to help me get dressed. After 5 weeks, he’s become expert at getting my socks off and on and getting my pants off and on. I can put on and take off my tee shirt by myself.

In theory, the cast comes off April 1. I’m hoping I can get my foot wet. If I can, the shower curtain gets put up and I can take a shower by myself.

Spring in southern New Mexico lasts only a tiny time. By the time I can go outside by myself, the spring cactus flowers will be gone.

I haven’t been able to drive since mid-December. The last time I had to give up driving for a few months, the peripheral neuropathy progressed to the point where it’s hard for me to feel the gas and brake pedals. I’m terrified that I won’t be able to feel them at all when I can finally be independent again.

And so I sit here feeling sorry for myself and being afraid of the future. Bleah.

There’s a quilt in here somewhere, but so far, I can’t see it.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Posted in Broken Foot Misery

Making The Best of A Crappy Situation

Posted on by debthumanblog

I saw the doctor on Tuesday. I thought sure I’d be told I could get my foot wet. If I can get my foot wet I can give myself a shower. But nooooooooo. I got a hard fiberglass cast that will stay on for 4 weeks.

This thing needs bling! The hideous orange color on my toe nails is betadine.

My husband still has to help me undress, wrap my foot in a garbage bag, wrap enough Saran Wrap around my leg to keep the bag on and to seal out water. Then, I get to hoist myself onto the tub chair, scoot all the way over, leave my right leg hanging out of the tub. Jim gets to handle the shower head that’s on a hose. Wet, get very cold very fast, soap up, wash hair, rinse, get very cold very fast, Jim turns off the water and hands me a towel.

If you have a son or two, grandson or two, or you are of the male persuasion, get a Barbie doll and play with it. Never mind the sexist crap. This is important. If you can get boots on a Barbie doll, you can get my sock onto my foot. Jim has to help me dress. I can get on my tee shirt. I cannot get my pants on. Right after I had surgery, Jim went to Walmart and bought me 3 pairs of pants. I haven’t bought clothes in more than 25 years. I’ve no idea what size I am. Jim found three pairs of knit pants that have elastic waists and wide legs. He gets my pants on over my cast and helps me pull up my pants.

If I brace myself on the counter and balance on my good foot, I can brush my teeth,

I used to walk into the bathroom, take care of why I went into the bathroom, wipe, wash my hands, and be done. Now, I wheel myself into the bathroom. I line up my wheelchair with my adult potty chair, I do my business. Wiping is difficult because the seat on the potty chair is much smaller than the seat on a toilet. I’ve got adult diapers for when I can’t wheel fast enough. I’ve got the most wonderful invention – an ass wiper. That’s not its name. If you put “assistive devices” into the search on Amazon, you will be taken to a whole page of ass wipers. Mine folds up and has a travel case so I can wipe my ass if I need to use a bathroom during the few outings I have. I have Huggies non-scented baby wipes because they had the best price. I thought I had enough baby wipes to last through this broken foot misery, but Jim discovered baby wipes remove oil paint from hands. I’m not sure what that says about baby wipes other than I won’t have to worry about leftover baby wipes when I can again use the big girl potty otherwise known as a toilet. Meanwhile, Jim still has to empty the pot every time I go. I’m usually healthy, but today I’ve got the trots. The Hershey squirts. The Urgencies. The runs. You get the idea. As miserable as that is when you can use the big girl toilet, it’s far worse when you are stuck using the adult potty chair.

When I was little, I would go places with my grandparents. They didn’t have much money, so we went for Sunday drives. My grandmother always packed a roll of toilet paper and the pot from the potty chair. Portable peeing at its best. Now, I’m 72 and I’ve got a big potty chair. No, I am not taking the pot from the chair when we need to go someplace. If I get that close to the ground, I’m not sure I can get back up.

When I came home from the hospital, I was assured by hospital folks that I could use a folding walker and hop up to the toilet. I tried. One hop and I was on the floor. Jim had a hard time getting me back up (I could put no weight on my right foot). When Jim went out to buy groceries the next morning he came home with an adult potty chair.

I can’t get my wheelchair into my sewing room. For one, the door isn’t wide enough . For another, it’s crowded in there with my cutting table, my sewing table, my ironing board….. There will be no sewing for the duration. But my embroidery machine didn’t fit on the sewing table so it’s on a table in the bedroom. I can, thanks to an ultra wide door, get into the bedroom. All my stabilizers are in the bedroom. All my threads are in the bedroom. I bought and downloaded patterns for FSL earrings. Of course, the earring findings are in the sewing room. But at least I can create something. I can talk Jim through finding my earring findings in the sewing room and failing that, I can buy earring findings at Michaels. I can make earrings. I can rig something up in my office so I can do product photography. I can put these earrings into my online store,http://www.DebThumanArt.com. I intended to raise the prices to accommodate rising shipping costs, but I haven’t done that yet. So, take advantage of a bargain and visit my store.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

Posted in Uncategorized

Making Art and Feeling Better.

Posted on by debthumanblog

I am taking a painting class, but I can’t manage going in to the painting studio. The class is crowded, and having to get around on the Fully Manual Motorcycle knee wheeler contraption is hard enough when there are no obstacles like easels, other students, stools. It would be impossible to manage in a crowded painting studio. So I’m painting at home. This is easier than it sounds. I’m using Shiva paintsticks. They come in lots and lots of colors plus iridescent colors. You can use them like crayons and dry brush to blend colors. Or, you can use the colorless blender stick that acts like a wonderful medium and you can work with the paintsticks the same as you would work with oil paint. The paint is supposed to be dry to the touch in 24 hours. I like not having to use mineral spirits in the house. I have two cats and a dog all of which have little lungs. What might not pose a problem for me can be a huge problem for them.

Here’s what I’ve done so far. I can see I need to clean up some brush strokes. I was working with thalo green, thalo blue and ultramarine blue.

I’ve been working with wire wrapping and it’s a whole lot harder than I thought.

I’ve been able to do some mending so I found out I can sew with my left foot. This is good because there’s a lot of sewing I need to do. At least one pair of jeans and several bras.

I had a CT scan and an MRI this week. Next week, I find out about surgery.

My store, Deb Thuman Art, is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

I’m linking with Nina Marie here:

Posted in Uncategorized

I Don’t Want A Pickle……

Posted on by debthumanblog

….Just wanna ride on my Fully Manual Motorcycle.

I thought my foot was sprained. My doctor wanted me to see a specialist and get an x-ray. I forgot that I didn’t go to med school; I went to law school. I decided that I wasn’t going to pay for a specialist and an x-ray because I was sure my foot was sprained. After hobbling around for five weeks with no improvement, I decided I should see a specialist. My foot isn’t sprained. My foot is broken. My arch has collapsed. I likely will need surgery but won’t know for sure for another two weeks. Imaging is set for next week and the follow up with the specialist for the week after.

For the next 4-5 months, I’m not supposed to put any weight on my broken foot. So I bought a knee wheeler thing that I call my Fully Manual Motorcycle. It’s got disc brakes and a shock absorber. I’m not planing on knee wheeling along the Appalachian Trail, but I do want to be able to navigate parking lots, sidewalks, and getting into and out of buildings. I’ve discovered that the slightest decline is enough to send me flying wild down the sidewalk.

The Fully Manual Motorcycle will not turn on a dime. Or on a silver dollar. I’m learning how to make a 15-point turn. I’m also learning that my shin is not designed to hold my weight. Going to the mall is out. So is going to Sam’s Club or Walmart. Or even the grocery store.

I cannot drive for the duration because it’s my right foot that’s broken. I can’t use my left foot to drive because I’m short and have to pull the seat all the way up. That means I can’t get my left leg around the steering column to reach the gas pedal. The other problem is I drove a standard for more than 20 years. My left foot only knows how to use the clutch. It doesn’t know how to be subtle when stepping on the gas or the brake.

Failure to follow the specialist’s instructions can result in my foot being amputated.

All the things I cannot do is causing me to be depressed. Depression is causing me to be frozen. I have to force myself to get out of bed. I have to force myself to take a shower and brush my teeth. I have to force myself to get dressed. I’ve had to increase the dose of my antidepressant. I’m trading being frozen for brain fog. That’s the problem with psych meds. They work, but a dose high enough to give relief causes brain fog.

I’ve done embroidery on the two long sleeve tee shirts I have. I was going to dye them, but it’s very cold and I’m too depressed. So I have a white tee shirt with a Star of David and another white tee shirt with a pink flamingo. I don’t need to use my foot when I use my embroidery machine. Press the green button, and the machine does the rest. I’d take photos, but it’s very cold out. Too cold to hang the tee shirts on the clothesline while I take photos. Too hard to get the Fully Manual Motorcycle out through the sliding glass door. I haven’t tried using my sewing machine yet. I suppose I can learn to sew using my left foot with the pedal.

We had a full moon while I thought my foot was sprained. So I hobbled around the yard to take these shots.

I’ve been designing fabric and there are new designs in my Spoonflower shop here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

The postal rates have become such that I will have to raise the prices of my work in my store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.DebThumanArt.com but I’ve decided to keep prices as they are until the end of February. If you’re looking for a Valentine’s Day one-of-a-kind jewelry gift, please visit my store.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Posted in Abstract Art, Child abuse, Judiasm

Trying to figure out what’s next

Posted on by debthumanblog

Some people wear their heart on their sleeve. I wear my heart on my art. I know what I want to say, but I haven’t figured out how I want to say it although I have some ideas.

I have my grandmother’s candlesticks. We always had candles on the table for holiday dinners. My family came from Dittersdorf, East Prussia cleverly disguised as German Lutherans. It took a lot of research, 120 years, and pure dumb luck discovering my grandmother’s bad German was Yiddish to see past the disguise. It wasn’t safe to be openly Jewish when my great-great-grandparents arrived in America although Jewish traditions were kept. Sort of. Cleaning had to be done on Friday and only on Friday. When I was little, we didn’t go anywhere on Saturday. And lit candles had to be on the table for holiday dinners. Jim’s family was different. On the rare occasions there were candles, they weren’t lit. We lost sight of who we are and what we believe since 1888 when my great-great-grandparents arrived in America. But we’ve kept our traditions. Now, I keep our faith and I don’t hide the fact I’m Jewish even though being openly Jewish right now is dangerous. This piece could work as either a quilt or a painting.

This is about child abuse and how I would hide from my mother and The Drunk. I would like it to be on three levels. Blue on the bottom, gray in the middle and green on the top. After the inauguration in 2017, I was so angry, I made a quilt featuring a life-size, nearly anatomically correct, 3-d depiction of a vulva – complete with a Swarovski crystal for the clitoris. It was quite the challenge to figure out how to sew it onto the quilt and then to actually sew it onto the quilt. I don’t think I want to try a 3-d quilt again. I’m not sure this would work as a flat quilt.

It could be a painting. I’d need Jim to make the “canvas” out of wood and float the gray and green levels. My painting teacher would like to see more work where Jim helps me fashion the “canvas.”

Eventually, I’ll get it all figured out.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com/2025/01/american-art-and-portraiture-on-off.html

My store, Deb Thuman Art, is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

Posted in Antisemitism

Fear of Fear

Posted on by debthumanblog

I’m afraid. I’m tired of being afraid. Fear sucks.

There’s a new Starbucks in my town. Jim and I decided to visit it. We won’t be back. My drink was fine. Jim’s drink was fine. A man behind the counter was wearing a keffiyeh. That isn’t fine. What if he discovers I’m Jewish? I did an internet search, and a keffiyeh has no religious significance. It is not a requirement of any religion as, for instance, a hijab is. Right now, the only significance is to terrorize Jews.

We attended an outdoor Hanukkah celebration. I didn’t see any security. What if someone starts shooting us because we’re Jewish?

Classes start at New Mexico State University on Wednesday. There’s a Students for Justice in Palestine chapter on campus. Don’t let the name fool you. They have organized attacks on Jewish students on campuses across the country. They advocate killing Jews. They advocate obliterating Israel. No, I don’t know what incredibly stupid person in academic administration decided to allow the chapter on campus and give them a meeting room. This isn’t a free speech issue. This is a keep terrorists off campus issue. Yes, I have let the FBI know about them.

I’m afraid. I refuse to hide, which may be a mistake – the kind of mistake that could cost me my life. For years, I’d spoken out against assault rifles saying it should be illegal to own one. Now, I seriously consider buying a Tav-7. I seriously consider buying Level IV military grade body armor designed to be worn by women.

I hate living like this.

Posted in Uncategorized

Pass the Antidepressants, Please

Posted on by debthumanblog

I wish it were that simple. Send a card, everyone is nice. No bad memories to haunt me. It’s not simple. It’s a complex collection of traumatic events. Being an over achiever, I didn’t get regular PTSD. I got the hard-to-treat complex PTSD. It won’t go away. The memories won’t go away. The pain won’t go away. Worst of all, the depression won’t go away.

I’d like to go someplace today to cheer myself up. But it’s Christmas and everything is closed. Except for the Asian Buffet – overpriced, underwhelming, greasy all-you-can eat before the heartburn sets in restaurant. For the past few years, the reform temple to which I belong has made reservations at the Asian Buffet and members can come and enjoy the heartburn, and everyone pays for their own meal. I’ll skip that. I don’t know anyone who shows up and even the rabbi doesn’t attend the greasy festivities.

Hanukkah starts tonight, but I’m too depressed to make latkes.

I’d like to soak in the tub, but I’m too depressed.

I’d like to take a shower, but it’s too late in the day.

And so I eat cookies and worry about my weight. Maybe I”ll skip the tub and the shower and just get dressed.

I’d get up and take my psych meds, which includes an antidepressant, but I’m too depressed.

I have aches and pains that would be cured with exercise, but I’m too depressed to do a fitness routine that would take 15 minutes. Besides, my foot is sprained and the plantar fasciitis is back. And that’s why I can’t go for a walk which in my case would be going for a hobble.

Christmas is a collection of horrible memories. One Christmas, sometime between the ages of 4 and 8, my mother and The Drunk brought a Christmas tree into the house. I saw white stuff on the tree and asked what it was. My mother looked at The Drunk and said, “She’s so stupid she doesn’t even know what snow mold is.” I remember being confused by that.

There was the Christmas when The Drunk didn’t like the way I threw an apple core into the fire. He kept digging the apple core out of the fire place and making me throw it back in telling me he hoped I’d learn before I got burnt. He never tortured my three siblings like that.

There was the Christmas Eve at my brother and sister-in-law’s house. My brother said the advice he got from The Drunk was to have fun but be careful. I said that was horrible and that my brother could get a knock on the door in 20 years and find an adult child he didn’t know about. The Drunk said that could happen to him. That’s when I knew The Drunk wasn’t my father. A non-returnable Christmas present.

Another year, I didn’t hear from my mother and called my brother on Christmas Day asking if Ma was going to do Christmas. Yes. And then Ma bitched at my brother because she expected me to just know enough to come over. Actually, that’s not what happened. She wanted me to skip Christmas so she could say how peaceful it was without me and have an excuse to bar me from all future festivities including First Communions and baptisms. Which is what happened after the Thanksgiving that I skipped. I got an “invitation” from my brother’s wife to come but only if I promised not to fight with my mother. I initially accepted. A few. days later, I called her and said I wasn’t coming because we couldn’t trust my mother to behave. That’s when I stopped getting invited to family celebrations.

The Drunk is dead. He died 22 years ago. A friend sent me an email which is how I found out he was dead. My mother is dead. She died 9 years ago on my birthday. I subscribed to Legacy.com and got a copy of her obit in my email. Otherwise, I would never have known she died. I haven’t talked to my brother or sister, The Fruitcake, since. Actually, I didn’t talk to The Fruitcake then. Just as well, we have another to say that the other one wants to hear.

I don’t have a family. I never will.

I fucking hate Christmas.

Posted in Uncategorized

It didn’t quite go as planned

Posted on by debthumanblog

This semester, the painting class was about identity. I spent the semester painting about child abuse. For the final project, we had to do a painting only we could do. So I did a quilt. About being Jewish.

After the disastrous election, I saw a design in my. head: a Star of David and a hammer. In the Hanukkah story, the Jews were ruled by a powerful, evil king. Jews who didn’t pray to the collection of the king’s gods were killed. Finally, Judah had enough. He gathered a band of warriors and they defeated the king’s vast army. End of rule by evil king. Judah was called Judah the Maccabee. Maccabee means hammer.

I thought about how people have been trying to wipe us out for about 6000 years. So far, they’ve failed. I saw my quilt as an expression of hope and perseverance. Since October 7, 2023, the Anti-Defamation League has received reports of more than 10,000 acts of antisemitism. Jews on college campuses have been physically attacked, muzazahs have been ripped off dormitory door posts, hamas supporters have called for the elimination of Israel and the killing of Jews. This is nothing new. We are still here.

I used matching thread to write out my feelings because I wanted people to look at my work. “We are still here” “Am Yisrael chai” (it means the people of Israel live and it’s a battle cry). The shin (Hebrew letter) has an “sh” sound and is frequently put on a mezuzah. It’s the first letter of the prayer: Listen Israel. The Lord our God, the Lord is one. That’s what set us apart from all the other nations which had many gods.

“Fighting for our right to exist”

My family hid. I refuse to hide.

This was the first time I had used my embroidery machine with a quilt. It was an interesting experience trying to get everything straight. I didn’t always succeed.

I looked forward to the final critique until the day of the critique when I received an email saying my class would be combined with another painting class for final critique. That means we would rush through each person’s work. No one would have the opportunity to really look at my work and see what’s there. No one would get to hear my reason for using the images I used. I was horribly depressed and sent my teacher an email explaining why I wasn’t going to be attending critique. That was last Thursday. I haven’t heard from my teacher and I don’t expect to ever hear from him.

I’m depressed enough that I’m not looking forward to taking another painting class. Actually, I’m not looking forward to much of anything.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com/2024/12/the-best-of-christmas-gifts-quilters.html

My store, Deb Thuman Art, is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in Depression, Embroidery machine, Emotions

Ouch

Posted on by debthumanblog

It’s been 26 years since I last endured holiday hell. Used to be I’d go into a deep depression the third week of November and the depression would last until January 1. Holidays featured screaming, fighting, crying, bad food and that was just the first hour. It went downhill from there.

Two weeks ago, every story in my writing class featured being home for the holidays. I was shocked to discover the stories triggered a depressive response. A few days later, I needed to push a walker around. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my spine. This feels like strained muscles. Oddly, taking a double dose of antidepressant relieved much of the pain. I’ve got an appointment with a massage therapist later this week.

I’ve been working on some art.

I’ve been making free standing lace ornaments featuring a nativity scene.

I tried using metallic thread for this. It a frustrating process.

These and other ornaments are in my store, Deb Thuman Art which you can find here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

I’ve been working on the quilt for my painting class. Because I can’t find stock images that would be suitable for quilting, I’m working on making my own images. It’s slow going.

I’ve also been working on fabric designs.

Once the blocks get put together, they look so different. You can find these and other designs in my Spoonflower shop here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com/2021/11/the-idea-continues-on-off-wall-friday.html

Posted in Uncategorized

Art From My Heart

Posted on by debthumanblog

I am devastated by the election results. I am frightened by the election results. The last time the narcissistic sociopath was in office, every hate group in the country came out of the closet. Suddenly, hate became a national value to be celebrated. This culminated in an armed attempt to overthrow the government on January 6, 2021.

The Anti-Defamation League received more than 10,000 reports of antisemitic acts since October 7, 2023. Jewish students are not safe on college campuses. It’s going to get worse.

After the election, I saw a quilted piece in my head. My painting teacher said our final assignment was to make a painting only we could create.

Deb: Does it have to have paint?

Teacher: It has to have pigment and a binder. That’s paint.

Deb: That’s also fabric dye.

My teacher has agreed to accept a quilted piece.

I had picked out fabric when I picked up my sewing machine. It needed to be serviced and lots of lint was removed from deep in the guts of the machine. I’m good for another year.

These are the fabrics I picked out. The purple is going to be the background. The yellow will be for the images and the binding.

I laid out the pieces.

I’m letting it sit for a while. I want to make sure I’ve got the pieces the right size. The appliqué in the middle is something I bought on sale from 1-800-dreidle. When I ordered it, I had no idea what I would do with it. I’m thinking it would go with with this design. I’m thinking I will need to make the star and the hammer smaller. They seem out of proportion with the appliqué.

It’s not really a Hanukkah quilt even though I’m using Hanukkah imagery. In 164 BCE, Judah the Maccabee gathered a handful of warriors and led the fight against a mighty army, Judah won. The temple was cleaned out, the eternal light was lit, and someone was sent to buy olive oil. It took eight days for the person to find, buy and return with the olive oil. Meanwhile, there was just enough oil in the temple to keep the light lit for one day. That little bit of oil lasted for eight days.

Maccabee means hammer, which is why there’s a hammer in the design. I saw the quilt as a symbol of how people have been trying to wipe us out for nearly 6000 years. We are still here. We’ve always been a tiny minority. We are still here. The quilt expresses my hope that we will again prevail. We will triumph over antisemitism again. Jewish students will no longer be attacked on college campuses. I won’t have to be on the receiving end of hate crimes any more.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My store Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in Uncategorized

Please God, don’t let the narcissistic sociopath win the election.

Posted on by debthumanblog

I’m having election anxiety. I grew up in the 60’s, but I had never seen the kind of hatred and divisiveness that has plagued this country since 2017 when the narcissistic sociopath was inaugurated. Since then, he has said there are good Nazis (there are, but they are all dead), and Hezbollah is smart. Hezbollah is a terrorist organization running Lebanon at the moment. But he claims to be a friend to the Jews. Yeah, the kind of friend Hitler was. Which is fitting because he publicly wished he had the generals Hitler had.

I’ve seen the peaceful transition of power turn into a violent, vicious riot later termed as “hugs” by the sociopath.

I’ve seen the blatant rise of antisemitism since October 7, 2023. Between October 7, 2023 and October 6, 2024, the Anti-Defamation League received more than 10,000 reports of antisemitism. Those are only the incidents that were reported. ADL has uncovered encouraging emails to the bigots encamped on college campuses coming from the ayatollah in Iran. Iran is also financing some of the encampments.

There’s a terrorist cell, calling for students to join them, on the campus of New Mexico State University. Who are these terrorists? Students for Justice in Palestine. Sounds like an okay group, right? It’s not okay. The group has encouraged and participated in antisemitic acts, and attacks on Jews across the campuses in the US.

I bring my service dog with me to my writing class. My writing was to be critiqued on October 7, 2024. I had to leave my dog home because I was afraid for her safety. I was terrified for my safety.

Today, I discovered that SUNY Buffalo, where I went to law school, has a group of bigoted students calling for the expulsion and firing of all students and faculties engaged in zionism. Out of all the antisemitic acts I’ve read about in the past year, this one hurt the most. Hillel and Chabad had a large presence on campus. I remember buying food from the kosher kitchen on campus. They had incredible knishes.

Zionism is merely the belief that Jews need a homeland and Israel has a right to exist. In the early 20th century, Zionists collected money from congregations around the world and bought land in Israel. I’ll type that again, they bought land in Israel. The land they were able to buy was swamp land. The early settlers brought in eucalyptus trees to drain the swamps naturally. They farmed the reclaimed land and built a country. During WWII, England, which ran Palestine and bought oil from Arab countries, severely restricted the number of Jews allowed to immigrate. WWII would have been different if European Jews had a place to go.

Israel has been forced to fight a war on three fronts. Remember, Israel was attacked. Israel was not the aggressor. Israel is fighting for the right to exist. It is not safe to be Jewish in the US now. If the narcissistic sociopath wins, it will be far worse than it is now.

Posted in Uncategorized

What a long, strange trip it’s been…

Posted on by debthumanblog

“But if you’ve got a warrant, I guess you’re gonna come in…” My all-time favorite line in a song.

It has been a long, strange trip. I’m 72. I never thought about being this old. Now that I am this old, it feels like turning 40. That was the year I was convinced I could do anything I put my mind to. That conviction returned when I turned 70. When I turned 50, I went a little crazy and got my belly button pierced. When I turned 60, I realized I wasn’t going to live forever and the depressed funk lasted about three years. Now, I’m back to being convinced I can do anything I put my mind to. I like that attitude.

“How terribly strange to be 70…” No, actually it isn’t strange at all. I started the decade by falling into a pile of cactus needles. The vertigo that had started five months earlier started to shrink my life. Nine months later, the vertigo had been banished and I banished the walker. Now, I want to put my body back together. Sounds easy, but when one is battling depression, it’s about as easy as climbing a rock wall without technical climbing gear.

Lately, I’ve been dissatisfied with my art. I cannot paint realistically. It won’t come out of my hand. And so my painting doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen in a museum. I tell myself that’s because I’m painting what’s inside of me and it’s coming out in my own style. It’s my style. It doesn’t belong to anyone else. So why does this bother me?

I’m dissatisfied with my writing. I’ve finished a short story about being suicidal, suicide, and the misery that’s left behind. Suicide is when you take all the crap in your life and give it to those who mourn your passing. Maybe that’s the point of suicide. It reminds us to be compassionate. For a couple weeks anyway.

I write weird. The words come from deep inside and come out of my hand in weird ways. I play with capitalization. I play with ideas. I give up. My work is seen through Jewish eyes and I am incapable of seeing the world any other way. I think about Chaim Potok, Naomi Reagan, Marc Chigall. They see (and saw) the world through Jewish eyes.

My art is tempered by my history. This semester, all of my painting is about child abuse. I didn’t plan it that way. What’s coming out of my hand is what’s inside of me. One painting is not exactly a family tree. It’s a family pasture. All sheep. The female sheep are bleeding from their abortions. My father is leaving the frame just as he left my life. I’m the black sheep in the middle. I bought some yarn spun from the fleece of a black sheep when we were in the Falkland Islands. The yarn is the most gorgeous shade of chocolate with highlights and life. I may be the black sheep, but I’m the one able to give the most beautiful yarn. The painting I’m about to start is about my entire childhood. All 3 years 11 months of it. That’s how long my childhood lasted so I don’t need a very big canvas. One part of the painting is about a Yiddish word. I know what the word means, but I don’t know the English translation. I have a collection of words I only know in Yiddish or bastardized German but I don’t know the English words.

There’s one more painting this semester. I don’t know what it will look like. Maybe it will depict feeling adrift. I miss being Jewish, but I can’t bring myself to go back to the reform temple in town. I’m appalled by the rabbi’s response to antisemitism on the local university campus and by the mismanagement of money by the board of trustees. The reform temple has sunk to charging for darned near everything. We were supposed to make hamantaschen and bring them to the temple for a Purim party. And we were expected to pay $7 each to attend the party. My temple dues were arbitrarily raised. When I complained and said I wouldn’t pay the increased dues, I got no response. They got no money from me.

We have two choices where I live: reform and Chabad. Chabad is orthodox. They are different. Only 64 women rabbis around the world are orthodox. The rest of the women rabbis are reform. Women hold no position of leadership in Chabad. We all sit where we want in a reform temple. Women on the left, men on the right and a wall between them in Chabad. We might distract the men. That smacks of blame the victim. My view? If he can’t keep it in his pants, that’s not my problem – it’s his problem. Women have sexuality and are attracted to and distracted by men. Except in an orthodox temple where we are supposed to pop out kid after kid after kid and be happy with that. We don’t speak. We don’t teach. We don’t lead. We are relegated to being behind the curtain or sitting on the other side of the wall. I did not stop shaving my legs for four years just so I could have fewer choices in life. Yet I like and respect the Chabad rabbi. I took a class last spring and will be taking another next month. I like the rabbi’s approach to teaching. But I don’t fit in orthodox Judaism. There’s no third choice.

I remember a conversation I had with a guidance counselor when I was about 14 – many years before I knew I was Jewish. I told the guidance counselor I wanted to be a rabbi. He said it wasn’t allowed.

It was only natural that a Jewish woman wrote, The Feminine Mystique.

Posted in Embroidery machine, Sewing

Sometimes, I wonder…..

Posted on by debthumanblog

I learned to sew 60 years ago. All that experience isn’t always an advantage. Back then, a sewing machine needle lasted months and months through project after project and garment after garment. Now, needles get changed after every project. Or that’s when they are supposed to be changed.

Sixty years ago, there weren’t many choices in sewing machine needles. You could buy needles for light weight fabric, needles for mid-weight fabric, and needles for heavy weight fabric. There weren’t ball point needles because there weren’t knit fabrics available to the home sewer. We were sewers, not sewists. I still hate the word sewist. It reminds me of a John Wayne movie, The Shootist.

Embroidery needles were for hand embroidery because machine embroidery wasn’t available for the home sewer.

Now, sewing machine needles come in lots of sizes for lots of different uses. It’s hard to keep up. I was having problems with my new embroidery machine. I had ordered some embroidery thread from Superior Threads. I was surprised to see they recommended a size 90/14 embroidery needle. I thought size 90/14 was just for heavy fabrics and I was embroidering on fabric I thought needed a size 70/10 needle. And so I bought some size 90/14 embroidery needles from Superior Threads. I had hit a sale and got free shipping. No telling how much the additional thread storage boxes, which I haven’t purchased yet, are going to cost me.

I inserted the size 90/14 needle into the embroidery machine, and magically stitch problems disappeared.

When compared to my embroidery machine, my iPhone 15 is brick that dials numbers and holds photos. Today’s machines, sewing and embroidery, are so complex that any tiny mistake in threading results in me trying to rip out embroidery stitches. I was taught that there are three things you can do to solve something like 90 % of your sewing problems. Clean the machine, change the needle, rethread the machine. It’s still a good way to solve sewing problems.

Most of the time. Sort of.

I keep the manual next to the machine. That’s how I discovered that I’m supposed to put my finger on the bobbin and hold the bobbin down while I thread the bobbin thread through the track that leads to the thread cutter. That solved a whole lot of stitch problems. I’ve never had a machine that required me to hold down the bobbin while threading the bobbin thread through wherever it has to go.

But now the embroidery thread is being carried to the back of the fabric indicating the tension is too low. I had lowered the tension to help with I forgot what, but it did work for a while. Now, I had to raise the thread tension to neutral. I had slowed the stitch speed to solve some problem I was having. But once I started threading the bobbin properly, I could increase the stitch speed.

I had some dye failures. One resulted in a brown tee shirt with more freckles than a room filled with red haired kindergarten kids. Jim suggested I consider it a tee shirt to wear while working out at the gym. Okay, but it needs embroidery. Everything I own needs embroidery these days. And so I got out some of my new embroidery patterns and played around.

Not the best choice of thread colors for this one. Two of the colors are too similar to be used in the same pattern and one of the variegated threads isn’t working with this pattern. Fortunately, this is a gym shirt.

I thought these might work for a quilt that needs quilting. Probably not. The quilt has lots of ferns, and I don’t think fancy leaves would be an addition.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My on-line shop, Deb Thuman Art, is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in Uncategorized

Night Magic

Posted on by debthumanblog

I’ve been playing around with moon shots again.

I took Brady out to go potty, and saw an orange slice of moon getting ready to set. I managed to shoot the moon through some lacy branches.

I use a 2-second shutter speed, point the camera at the moon, and move the camera around. Next, I play with fog, overlays, and any other editing goodies that I think will be interesting. This one may turn into a painting.

Once I press the shutter, I can’t see what I’m getting until the shutter closes. This time, I got a circle rather than lines. I played with overlays and light leaks.

This semester’s painting class is about identity. I took the moon shots I’ve been making and turned them into weird paintings.

Self Portrait.

My Autobiography Volume 1

My Autobiography Volume 2.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My on-line shop, Deb Thuman Art, is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com