I had a less than wonderful dyeing session. I thought I was doing things to eliminate freckles. Instead, I got more freckles than I thought possible in the three tee shirts I dyed.
I used three new-to-me Procion dyes from Dharma Trading: deep purple, hydrangea, and shiitake mushroom. I doubt over dyeing will eliminate the freckles. The shiitake mushroom shirt is beyond rescuing. Jim suggested I use it as a workout tee shirt. That idea has possibilities. I’ll be picking out specific embroidery patterns that express where I’m headed and work out goals.
The other two, I’ll embroider and just wear them. I’ll call the freckles a design element and try to convince myself I meant for the tee shirts to come out like they did.
I have bipolar disorder. My moods have a mind of their own. Without medication, I have mood slams. With medication, I have mood swings. It’s an improvement.
There’s nothing in my life at the moment that would necessitate a depressive episode. In fact, things are going remarkably well. I got into a painting class that I wanted. My brain is going into overdrive coming up with ideas for paintings. I drew out on canvas the first painting and I like what I am seeing. In class today, I’ll work on color charts. I want to work with one color plus white and ivory black. Ivory black has blue in it so when it’s mixed with yellow and white, interesting greens appear. I’m curious to see what happens if I use reds, violets, and yellows. Do the reds make violet when mixed with white and ivory black?
I got into the writing class that I wanted. This is going to be an interesting class. Much younger than the creative writing classes I’ve taken in the past. I’m looking forward to writing some of the scary stuff I’ve been thinking of. What I’ll be writing is what’s inside of me.
I put six new designs into my Spoonflower shop. These are the original drawings. Once they got uploaded, I could arrange them on the fabric several different ways. It’s amazing how different the designs look on fabric and on the original drawings.
I finished another bra. This one has free standing lace that I made on my embroidery machine. Even after washing out the stabilizer, the lace is pretty stiff.
I was having a depressive episode, so I made Brady some bandanas.
I finished sewing this one this morning but I haven’t yet photographed the finished bandana.
I made another wild moon shot by taking several shots and doing a focus merge.
This is what the moon really looked like.
I woke up in pain at 4:30 AM. The only reliable pain killer for neuropathy is art, so I went out and shot the sunrise.
Going outside has caused a major allergy attack. I’ve taken two decongestants and an antihistamine and I’m still feeling miserable. Bleah.
I wrote and submitted to the court a victim impact statement. This is the statement:
Deborah Lee Thuman
Attorney at Law
PO Box 68
Las Cruces, New Mexico 88004
Re: M-14-202400807
State of New Mexico
V
Jonah Payton Holguin
This is a victim impact statement. I would be present during the July 29, 2024 hearing, but I injured my achilles tendon and I’m having difficulty getting around.
There’s more to this case than would appear from the police report. This is part of an ongoing attack on Jewish students at New Mexico State University.
To fully understand the situation, there needs to be some history provided.
– Israel left Gaza in 2005.
– Hamas, an internationally recognized terrorist group, won a majority of the government seats in the 2006 election.
– Hamas won every government seat in the 2007 election.
– There have been no elections in Gaza since. Hamas stays in power by incarcerating, torturing and murdering anyone who dissents or is suspected of dissenting.
After the October 7, 2023 attack on Israel, the leader of Hamas stated that his purpose in starting a war was to kill Jews and eliminate Israel. He also stated he hoped the other Arab nations would join him. Palestinians have nothing to do with this war although clearly they are caught in the middle.
The Anti-Defamation League, hereinafter ADL, is an organization dedicated to documenting antisemitic attacks in the United States. The ADL has uncovered an email from the Ayatollah Khamenei which states in part: “Yesterday, the Ayatollah Khamenei, the Supreme Leader of Iran, the largest exporter of antisemitic terror in the world, tweeted “Dear university students in the United States of America, this message is an expression of our empathy & solidarity with you.” Not to be outdone, the al-Qaeda senior command issued a statement: “While we support the assassination of the infidel Zionists and the beheading of them, we also appreciate and value the movement of Western demonstrators and sit-in students from Western universities.”
The ADL sent me a link to the following AP article:
“Iran encourages Gaza war protests in US to stoke outrage and distrust, intelligence chief says
FILE – People walk past the Gaza Solidarity Encampment at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, Tuesday, April 30, 2024. In the wake of pro-Palestinian protesters on college campuses calling for universities to divest from Israel, Pennsylvania’s state Senate on Thursday, June 27, 2024, approved legislation that would block state aid from going to any university that boycotts or divests from Israel. (Monica Herndon/The Philadelphia Inquirer via AP, File)
Read More
WASHINGTON (AP) — The Iranian government is covertly encouraging American protests over Israel’s war against Hamas in Gaza in a bid to stoke outrage ahead of the fall election, the nation’s top intelligence official said Tuesday.
Using social media platforms popular in the U.S., groups linked to Tehran have posed as online activists, encouraged protests and have provided financial support to some protest groups, Director of National Intelligence Avril Haines said in a statement.
“Iran is becoming increasingly aggressive in their foreign influence efforts, seeking to stoke discord and undermine confidence in our democratic institutions,” Haines said.
This effort noted by the top U.S. intelligence official is the latest evidence that America’s adversaries are harnessing the internet to warp domestic debates and widen political divides ahead of the election.
White House press secretary Karine Jean-Pierre said it was important to warn Americans to help them “guard against efforts by foreign powers to take advantage of or coopt their legitimate protest activities.”
She also warned Iran that “meddling in our politics and seeking to stoke division is unacceptable.”
RELATED COVERAGE
In recent years, Iran, Russia and China have all refined their abilities to use online bots and networks of fake social media accounts to amplify divisive debates within the U.S. over immigration, shootings by police, COVID-19, environmental catastrophes, and even Chinese spy balloons.
In most cases, these influence campaigns exploit existing social conflicts, and Haines noted Tuesday that Americans participating in protests over Israel’s conduct in Gaza have a right to express their views. But she said Americans need to know when foreign actors are trying to meddle in domestic American politics.
“Americans who are being targeted by this Iranian campaign may not be aware that they are interacting with or receiving support from a foreign government,” Haines said.
Iran isn’t the only nation seeking to influence American discourse ahead of the 2024 election. During a briefing with reporters Tuesday, intelligence officials said America’s adversaries will look to harness the latest artificial intelligence to dramatically expand the reach and penetration of election misinformation.
The officials — from agencies including the FBI and the Office of the Director of National Intelligence — spoke with reporters on condition of anonymity under ground rules set by the office of the director.
Russia remains the greatest threat, according to the officials, who said the Kremlin is mounting a government-wide effort to spread election disinformation ahead of the 2024 race. Russia has already sought to exploit debates over immigration as part of its strategy to undermine international support for Ukraine.
Russia is also seeking to cover its tracks by laundering its disinformation through supposedly independent news sites and American influencers who may not know they are parroting Russian talking points.
The officials declined to answer directly when asked if Russia preferred a particular presidential candidate but pointedly noted that the country’s preference remained unchanged from prior election cycles, when Russia was assessed by the U.S. intelligence community to have worked to try to get Republican candidate Donald Trump elected.
While China mounted a sprawling disinformation campaign ahead of Taiwan’s recent election, the nation has been more cautious in its use of disinformation targeting Americans this year. Officials said Tuesday that China shows no indication that it will try to influence the presidential race.
China, one official said, doesn’t see a benefit in choosing between candidates who are both seen as trying to curb its power.
Sen. Mark Warner, chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, has said the U.S. may be more vulnerable to foreign disinformation this year than it was before the 2020 election. He thanked the intelligence community for holding Tuesday’s briefing as a way to inform the public about the threat.
“Social media, in particular, continues to be a popular vector for foreign covert influence attempts, and our adversaries remain focused on stoking social, racial, and political tensions among Americans,” said Warner, D-Virginia.
Associated Press writer Eric Tucker in Washington contributed to this report.”
I have been the victim of the students camping out claiming to support Palestinians. I was surrounded, terrorized, threatened and physically attacked on May 6, 2024 when I attempted to photograph the encampment. I was approximately 100 yards from the encampment and posed no threat to the students. Jonah Holguin was one of the students who attacked me. He’s also one who called the campus police in an attempt to have me arrested. Although his own video and a video from a security camera installed on a nearby building clearly showed I was no threat to the students and was being attacked by them, the campus police did nothing other than to put my home address in a police report. Body cameral video and any audio recording done by the police officer clearly shows I was promised that my address would be redacted. I knew that was wrong as soon as I heard it. In 30 years as a criminal defense attorney, I never saw a redacted police report. Now, I live in fear that these terrorist wannabes, urged on by documented terrorist organizations will show up at my front door and vandalize my home, and/or injure myself, my husband and my service dog.
These are the same students who occupied the administration building, damaged the building and terrorized the university president.
This is not the first time I was on the receiving end of a hate crime solely because I’m Jewish. I reported the incident to the campus police and provided proof of the crime to them. They did nothing. As a result, I have had to form a safety plan to attend class and I must be armed with bear spray and a stun gun at all times when I’m on campus.
Part of the job of being a judge is to protect the public. This is done at sentencing. While it is the job of the campus police to protect students, they are deliberately not protecting Jewish students. Jonah Holguin didn’t go to class during the encampment. He didn’t go to class while trespassing in the administration building. He doesn’t care about being a student. What his actions clearly show is that he is a violent individual and a danger to every Jewish student on the NMSU campus. Therefore, probation to “allow him to attend classes” would be a corruption of justice. He deserves a jail sentence. I ask that you take a step to protect Jewish students on the NMSU campus by imposing the maximum jail sentence.
Respectfully submitted,
Deborah Lee Thuman
Attorney at Law
Cc: Anti-Defamation League
Jewish On Campus
Chabad House
Unfortunately, this case is before an antisemitic judge. When I submitted a notice of unavailability so I could observe the High Holy Days, this judge made derisive comments in open court. I said I was available to appear on Christmas, but the judge still persisted in making derisive comments. I have no illusions that there will be justice for anyone in this case. Although I do have difficulty getting around, my reason for not being present in court is I do not have the emotional wherewithal to be in the same room with the defendant or to hear yet more antisemitic crap from this judge.
Classes start in a month. I want to take a painting class and a writing class. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that I will be attacked again. I’m terrified I will be the object of yet another hate crime with the perpetrator(s) being protected by an official policy of police inactivity with regard to protecting Jewish students on campus.
I strained my achilles tendon a couple months ago. After limping around for a few weeks, I finally went to my doctor. I got referred to a specialist who believes in taking a conservative approach before considering surgery. I like that approach. I got a big, ugly, black boot on June 5. I did prescribed exercises at home and aggravated my injury. I started physical therapy and got new exercises to do at home. After straining my lower back putting the big, ugly boot on, I started not using the boot at home and only using it when I went someplace.
The boot throws my gait off, so I have to use a walker to keep from losing my balance. Then I irritated my strained lower back getting my walker out of the back of the car.
I’m feeling better. The swelling has gone down. But I have pain in my hips and lower back. I want to go back to the gym, but I don’t want to be wearing a boot while using the machines. I’m lopsided enough right now. I’m afraid if I wear the boot at the gym, I’ll get more strength training on one side than the other. I want to go hiking again, but I can’t manage to walk the mile from my home to my mailbox.
I want my life back.
This is when I’m so tempted to rush into things and by rushing to further aggravate my achilles tendon which is already really angry with me.
I tried doing yoga this morning. I put on a video. The routine started with child pose. I had fallen a week ago and bruised either the muscles in my shin or bruised the bone. Either way, getting down on the floor to do child pose left me rolling on the floor screaming in pain. I did the few exercises that don’t case more pain.
I hate this. I hate stopping myself from doing what I want to do which would cause me more pain.
Bleah.
There’s a quilt in here somewhere. I just don’t feel like making it.
Finally, after wearing ill-fitting uncomfortable bras for 60 years, I’ve got a bra that fits. A bra that’s so comfortable that I forgot I was wearing it. And the straps stay up!
I used a Pin Up Girls pattern, and paid attention to everything Beverly Johnson said in the Craftsy Bra Making class.
Because I’ve always had a problem with the band riding up in the back, I thought I was doomed to have sagging breasts. Beverly said in her class that if the band rides up in the back, use a double layer of power net. Worked like a charm. I moved the straps closer to the center in both the back and the front and now the straps stay put.
That was so exciting, I decided to make another bra using the lace I had made with my embroidery machine. First, the iron spewed black stuff all over one of the cups when I went to press a seam. Next, the sewing machine kept deciding not to move the fabric when I sewed. Except it didn’t happen all the time. Then, I sewed the elastic on the wrong side of the band. I started to rip off the elastic, and decided it was time to give up on sewing and do something else.
I’ve ordered mesh fabric to make lingerie laundry bags. Nothing ruins a bra quite as fast as the straps and wires getting wound around everything else in the washer.
I’ve got lace made for three more bras, two bra kits I ordered from Bra Builders, and enough fancy lace to make another half dozen bras.
I want is a bra that fits, is comfortable, is pretty, and the straps stay on my shoulders. All bras feel comfortable in the store’s dressing room, but after an hour of wear, they turn into torture devices. To that end, I’ve been tweaking a bra pattern so it’s just right. The last incarnation had cups that were too big, but I got the band figured out. I’m using one of Beverly Johnson’s patterns. I like that she includes a multitude of cup sizes and a multitude of band sizes. It’s possible to mix and match pieces to get a perfect fit. I did a tweak, and I’m hoping I got the fit just right this time.
I want a pretty bra. So I’ve been using my embroidery machine to make lace.
I was scrunching designs together to get four pieces of lace in one hoop. And so these are sideways. Turn your computer screen 90 degrees, and you will see what the lace is going to look like attached to bra cups. I used a variegated ecru for the flowers.
I used freestanding lace designs. I stitched them out on a double piece of water soluble stabilizer. I’ll leave the stabilizer in the lace until after I get the lace sewn onto the cups. Then I’ll wash the last of the stabilizer out.
I’m hoping straight lace will work. Looks like there’s a thread I didn’t realize I needed to cut. I used a variegated thread with subtle color shifts.
I used a variegated blue thread for this one. I haven’t decided if I like the stripy-ness. I’ve a lot of variegated threads which don’t always work out with embroidery designs.
Once I finally get a bra that fits, there will be photos. No, I won’t be modeling the bras.
According to the instruction manual, I’m supposed to use my machine regularly because letting it sit for weeks on end without using it will gum up the guts. My machine gets used regularly. Even more than regularly.
I started playing around with thread and patterns just to see what I would get.
Here’s a group of Laurel Burch designs. I need to snip threads in the snakes. I love the cat. And the fish.
One of Brady’s new bandanas. Or it will be once I sew the edges. I used a Laurel Burch design.
Brady’s other new bandana that needs to get the edges sewn. I love pink flamingoes. Seeing a pink flamingo in the wild is on my bucket list.
Mood Fabrics just released a new free pattern for a sleep set. I’m not interested in the shorts, but the camisole type top is intriguing. But it needs lace. So, I bought some lace patterns. This is one of them. I think it would be nice for a neckline.
I more or less survived last week. I’m still alive – which is a major accomplishment. Last week, I wrote about my sister’s yahrzeit and my emotional fallout. Tuesday evening, I lit a candle and said kaddish.
Meanwhile, I’m seeing more and more the effects of the hate crimes and antisemitism are having on me. I’m back on anti-anxiety med. My stomach hurts. I know I need to sleep but I’m wide awake and watching the clock go from 1 AM, to 2 AM and getting more and more anxious as the hands move around the clock.
Clumping around in a boot designed to make sure I don’t aggravate an injured achilles tendon is causing me to have back, hip and leg pain. I’m cleared to go to the gym provided I avoid any machine that involves using my ankles. Except I’m too depressed to go to the gym. I hate this. I’ve had to go back to the full dose of my antidepressant. Being depressed is depressing which causes me to be more depressed. Depression – the ultimate perpetual motion machine.
I have some choices. I’ve contacted an attorney I know who handles civil rights cases. Apparently he’s not interested in my case because I never heard back. I could go to the State Police and ask them to investigate the campus police, but I doubt it would do any good. I could go to the US Department of Justice and ask for help under Title VI, but dealing with the feds means watching cobwebs grow around my case. I could go to the state attorney general although I’ve dealt with the general counsel for higher education who refused to help me. No one cases that Jewish students aren’t safe on campus. I am afraid of being physically attacked on campus. At least my handicap hangtag lets me park next to the door of the art building.
And I’m having a crisis of religion. Not faith – my faith is solid. It’s my temple that gives me pause. It’s a reform temple, and I fit into Reform Judaism. But the temple is now and has been in financial crisis for several years. The board had decided to arbitrarily raise everyone’s dues. They expect 20% of one’s gross income. Unless you earn $120K or more. Then the board expects 2%. Meanwhile, they are squeezing nickels and dimes out of people. There was a Purim celebration and members were asked to bring hamantaschen – special cookies made for Purim. Then, people were asked to pay $7 per family to get in to the celebration. Bring food then pay to eat it.
The only other temple in town is Chabad House. I like the rabbi. I loved the class I took on medical ethics. The rabbi is actively working with the university president to attempt to ensure Jewish students are safe on campus. My rabbi is doing nothing.
Unfortunately, Chabad is orthodox and I’m not. I dislike the separation of men and women under the theory that women will be a distraction to the men. That comes dangerously close to blame the victim. I dislike the limited role women have in orthodox Judaism. Their role is to have kids and have a dead-end job so the husband can spend his days in the library studying. Just one problem….women’s reproductive organs have an expiration date. So what is this woman with limited education and limited skills supposed to do after she can’t have more children?
So what am I to do? I miss going to services but I can’t tolerate the leave it alone and antisemitism will solve itself attitude the reform temple has. I fought too hard to get an education and to be an equally-paid attorney to give up and not be allowed to fully participate in an orthodox temple.
So here I sit. No temple to go to for services. Not going to the gym because I’m too depressed. Clumping around making me more depressed. Bleah.
I have three bad days a year. April 1, June 25, and the day I say kaddish for my sister.
April 1, 1962. Sunday morning. My mother sat on the sofa with a strange look on her face. We were told she was going into the hospital to give birth and someone else would take us to church. When we got back, we were told we had a sister. I was 9. My brother, John, was 4, my other sister, Sueanne, was 3. My brother burst into tears and said, “You promised me a brother!”
Later, we found out when Christina was born and my mother was told she had a girl, she said, “Put it back. I want a boy.” A few years later, while complaining about her sister-in-law (The Drunk’s sister), she said, “Why does she get all the boys and all I get are girls?”
When Christina was 13 months old, she opened the cupboard door and explored what was under the kitchen sink. My mother and I were in the kitchen where my mother was pinning the hem of a suit she had made for me. She watched Christina open the bottle of oven cleaner and pour it on herself. My sister cried. My mother changed my sister’s clothes, but put the oven cleaner soaked sneaker back on my sister’s foot. My sister cried for hours. My mother yelled, literally, at her to stop crying. Eventually, my sister’s diaper needed changing and my mother saw my sister had second and third degree burns from the waist down. The worst burns were on her foot. The foot that was clad in the oven cleaner soaked sneaker. For the rest of her life, my sister had an ugly scar that covered most of the top of her foot.
Christina packed a lot of life into her 35 years. Long before it was an olympic sport, tricks and being airborne while skiing was called hot dogging. My sister and her friends went skiing. Sleet started. For the last run, the sleet was so bad that my sister went down the hill with her eyes closed. When she got to the bottom, her friends asked where she learned to hot dog. She told them she didn’t know how to ski.
One day, my mother asked Christina if she had started having periods yet. Yes. Why didn’t she tell anyone? “I didn’t think I had to.” When asked what she did when her period started, she said there was always a supply of feminine hygiene products under the bathroom sink. She took a pad and pinned it in her panties.
For about six years, Christina dated a musician – Pete. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas, Pete joined us. He called our grandparents Grandma and Grandpa. Eventually, Pete formed a band. Christina went to all the gigs and was the band’s photographer. She had a 35mm camera and taught me a few tricks. That fed my interest in photography. Sometimes, Jim and I would join Christina, Pete and the band at a bar in Olcott, New York. One night, I didn’t like what one of the other band members said to Christina so I punched him on the arm. Fortunately, he didn’t hit back. It was the only bar fight I’ve ever been in and I was sober at the time.
Eventually, Pete and Christina broke up. Jim and I have remained friends with Pete.
Although Christina wanted to be a surgeon, she knew our parents wouldn’t send her to college. The Drunk liked to say it was a waste of money to educate a girl unless she was going to be a teacher or a nurse. And so Christina learned cosmetology when she was in high school. There was no party when she graduated and no one went to her see her walk across the stage.
A few years later, my sister saw a mole on her back. The mole started growing. Then the mole changed colors. Having severe acne, my sister had been seeing a dermatologist. On one visit, she mentioned her mole. The dermatologist looked at the mole and said it had to be removed immediately. My sister had planned a vacation in Mexico and wanted to wait until she came back from her trip to have the mole removed. The dermatologist insisted the mole be removed immediately. When she came back from Mexico, she saw her dermatologist again. He told her he had the mole tested twice. The results were the same. My sister had a particularly aggressive form of melanoma. Her dermatologist told her that had she not had the mole removed, she would have been dead in a month.
At the time, I had recently found out I was adopted and was looking for my father. Finding birth parents isn’t easy even if the adoptee has a birth parent’s name. Christina told me no one wanted me to continue hurting, and she knew someone. Someone knew someone else and at the end of the someones was someone who could help me find my father. I declined and found my father a few weeks later. It was nice of Christina to say no one wanted me to hurt, but that wasn’t accurate. I’m convinced my mother stayed up at night thinking of ways to hurt me.
Eventually, Christina followed her boyfriend – who she later married – to New York City. Christina became Brad Pitt’s hairdresser. Brad isn’t a natural blond. I know this because when she worked in New York City, Christina only did hair coloring. She made Brad a blond.
After touring France with her husband, my sister decided it was time to settle down and have a baby. Chloe was born June 1, 1994. It was a cesarian birth and there were photos. My sister’s hair was perfect. I begged my sister to let me stay with her for a couple days in July so I could meet my niece. I took the train from Buffalo to New York City. Naturally, the train was late. I took a cab driven by a cabby who spoke broken English. When he tried to explain he was going to go “down, around and through,” I looked out the window and saw my sister’s building about halfway down the block. I got out of the cab, tipped the driver, and walked to my sister’s building.
During this visit, we did a little grocery shopping. I was astounded at the price of produce. Raspberries were $16 a quart. At the time, Jim and I had a huge vegetable garden, fruit trees and raspberry bushes. I should have packed vegetables and fruits rather than clothes. I could have set up a table on the sidewalk outside my sister’s building and sold all the produce long before the police could arrive. Then I could go and buy new clothes. My sister and I talked about baking. I could make great tasting baked goods, but they weren’t pretty. My sister could make gorgeous looking baked goods, but they didn’t always taste great. Between the two of us, we had one pastry chef.
Over the years, Christina found other suspicious moles and had them removed. If melanoma is suspected, quite a bit of tissue is removed with the mole. Melanoma grows like an ice berg – most of the mole is under the surface. The dermatologist didn’t remove all of one mole. Eventually, the melanoma took over and killed my sister.
My mother decreed that if Sueanne or my brother told me Christina was sick or she had died, my mother would cut them out of her will. They sold their souls for what would amount to less than the cost of a new car.
A friend saw the obit and called me. I’m half Irish. I’ve only heard keening once. It came out of me and it was a blood chilling sound.
Yahrzeits – the anniversary of the death of a loved one – are based on the Hebrew calendar – a lunar calendar with 13 months in a year. This year the anniversary of my sister’s death is today – June 25 – on the civil calendar. Her yahrzeit is tomorrow on the Hebrew calendar. At sundown, I’ll light a candle and say kaddish.
I’ve finally reached the point where I can start to integrate the crap that happened to me growing up, feel the feelings it wasn’t safe to feel then, and start to heal both mentally and physically. If you’re wondering what I’m writing about, it’s child abuse. My mother was a violent, drunken narcissist who had four children she didn’t want and made real sure we knew she didn’t want us. Her husband was a violent drunk. By the time I was 10, I had myself and three siblings to raise. I mirrored what I was my mother doing and did a lousy job of raising myself and siblings. I grew up hiding in my room so I wouldn’t have to hear them yell, literally, at me and hit me. I had no idea there was anything unusual about my family. At the age of 9, I had such severe depression that even the kids in my class noticed. One boy asked me what was wrong. His words had to go through many layers of water before I could hear them. Then, I had to formulate an answer, and the words had to go through many layers of water before I could say them. I eventually told him nothing was wrong. I wasn’t lying or covering anything up. I truly had no idea that there was any other kind of family.
I’ve been reading The Body Keeps The Score. It’s not an easy book to read and I can only read it in small doses. I’ve been doing micro-dosing with ketamine for little longer than a year and I finally found a therapist who takes my insurance and accepts new patients. The combination is allowing me to feel what I felt at the time the crap was happening. I’m even getting the stress pains I had at the time. It sucks. But it’s the only way to integrate what happened into whole memories and process them into something I can live with. At the moment, they are fractured memories that cause a plethora of physical problems.
Meanwhile, I’m working my way through the current trauma of a hate crime, antisemitism, and confronting terrorist wannabes – students being manipulated by real terrorists and being conned into thinking antisemitism is a good thing. I’m angry. I’m pissed. I want to scream. I’m considering a civil rights suit against the university.
And so I’m not myself. I’m having reactions out of proportion to events. I’m sounding like a crazed woman. I’m not having fun. It sucks.
Art. It ain’t called art therapy for nothing. I can lose myself in art. I can figure myself out in art. So often, I don’t understand what’s going on inside of me until it comes out of my hands. I’m working on a sequel to the novel I finished. Like the first novel, the main characters are a woman who is my age, Jewish, and a criminal defense attorney. Her lover is a police officer. In the first novel, I wrote about an officer involved shooting, mental illness and people who are homeless. (Unhoused is such a sanitary, offensive PC word and I won’t use it.) This time, I’ll be writing about antisemitism and hate crimes. What’s inside of me needs a voice. I’m considering taking a writing class in the fall. That could be dangerous for me. I’m hoping I can bring Brady, my service dog in training and the world’s cutest labradoodle, to class with me.
I’ve been playing around with my embroidery machine. And I’ve been surfing eBay for embroidery thread bargains. I found a doozy and it will arrive on Monday. I’ve played a bit with making my own designs.
The ferns are my design, the border is a stock design from the embroidery machine.
I bought a set of Hebrew fonts and started playing with them. The Hebrew is shalom. Shalom is one of those multi-purpose words. It’s use for hello, goodby and peace. Peace meaning the absence of war, but also a deep personal inner peace. The Star of David is done with variegated thread and I like how it came out.
We had a particularly bright moon last night. It’s a smidge past full, but well worth photographing. I used a 400mm lens. Sure would be nice to have something like a 12,000 mm lens, but that’s far outside of my photography budget.
In May, I went on the NMSU campus to photograph pro-Hamas terrorists camped out on campus. I was surrounded by terrorists who shoved my walker, pushed a phone 5 inches from my face, taunted me, threatened me, tried to get me to leave, all while wearing masks so they couldn’t be identified. Then they called the police. I couldn’t tell anyone what happened because of the possibility of criminal charges against me. You know the part in the Miranda warnings about anything you say can and will be used against you? Believe it. I’ve been a criminal defense attorney for 30 years. Anything you sway will be taken out of context and shoved down your throat sideways. I couldn’t even talk to my therapist about what happened because her notes could be subpoenaed and anything I told her could and would be used against me.
I finally reached a point where I could ask for the police report. I was called a white supremacist . Fortunately for me, the little bastards didn’t know I’m Jewish. I was accused not just of something I didn’t do, I was accused of something that never happened. To prove the little bastard’s claim, he showed the campus cop a video….which per the police report, showed the little bastard was lying. Naturally, nothing happened to the little bastard.
I’m beyond furious. I’m severely depressed. I’ve never run from a fight in my life, and I’m not about to start running now. But I’m alone. The police won’t protect me. The university administration won’t protect me. The rabbi at my temple won’t support me. I can’t even get a reply to an email from her. Instead, I get a weekly email sent to the entire congregation telling us to pray, and donate money. Did that work against the nazis in the 1930’s? Did that stop the concentration camps from being built?
I know people think I’m overstating events. Consider a few things: according to the Anti-Defamation League, the ayatollah in Iran has sent encouragement to the pro-hamas demonstrators. There’s a presidential candidate claiming Hezbollah is “smart.” Where are these unemployed kids getting money for the tents and gas grills they are using in their protests? What the hell is wrong with parents who are spending upwards of $30K a semester to send their kids to elite schools where, instead of going to classes and learning something, the kids are camping out and proudly backing terrorists?
I wondered what it cost to go to an elite school, so I googled Columbia University. Here’s the cost breakdown from the Columbia University website:
2023-2024 Cost of attendance
Total cost of attendance: $89,587
Tuition and fees: $68,400
New student fees: $645
Housing and food: $16,800
Books and personal: $3,742
And the parents let the kids camp out for weeks on end. If I had a kid who pulled that kind of stunt, there would be no more money from me for the kid’s education.
There is no neutral now. Either you support and defend Jews against antisemitism and stand up against terrorists, or you are one of the terrorists.
When the fall semester starts, I’ll be fighting antisemitism on campus. I’ll be standing up for Jews and for Israel. Which side are you on because there is no neutral.
When is a quilt not my work? When does a tool transform into someone else’s design?
I bought an embroidery machine. I knew I’d like it, I never knew I’d love it and want to use it so much. It has replaced my need to use fancy threads on all sewing projects. Now, all projects have to have embroidery. That’s not a bad thing. Even though I bought the machine, a Babylock Meridian 2, on sale and got a great deal, it wasn’t cheap. If I’m going to have an expensive tool, I want to use it a whole lot.
I found a fantastic sale on trapunto designs – 25 designs regularly $50 marked down to $10. I bought the designs. I started playing around with them wondering what I was going to use them for. Then, I realized, I could use them to make a quilt. Except is that my quilt? Or is it the work of the embroidery designer?
I used some scrap fabric and some thread that I’m not in love with to see how big the designs are and how they look when made.
These were all stitched on a quilt sandwich.
Next, I decided to see what size block the design would fit in. I marked out 12″ 10″ and 9″ squares and experimented. I used leftover muslin from a muslin I made for a dress pattern. Good thing I made the muslin because the size I thought would fit was waaaaaaay too big. Not wanting to waste fabric, I’ve used hunks of that muslin for all sorts of experiments.
The 9″ blocks won.
Then I started playing around.
I decided I dislike the font I used in the top design.
Better font and interesting design but I’ve no idea where I’d use it. Still, fun to play around.
I hand dyed fabric to make a blouse. I decided this would be a nice design to embroider on the blouse. I doubt I’ll use these colors, but I did get an idea of what I wanted.
Or maybe not. I’d have to change the orientation of this one, but I think it would be pretty on a blouse.
What about these? A different orientation could be quite pretty on a garment.
But what if I used more subtle colors of thread?
But back to the quilt question. If I use the designs for quilt blocks, is it still my quilt? Is it my work?
So much has happened this week, and it’s only Wednesday.
Monday was our 52nd anniversary. I had hoped to do something special on our 50th anniversary, but we were having a pandemic and deranged passengers thought it was fun to have a brawl in mid-flight. Not the kind of excitement I was looking for. Brady is learning fast and doing well, but she’s not fully trained yet. I cannot fly with her until she’s fully trained. And so a special cruise is not going to happen for a while.
Today, I get fitted for a boot that will allow me to get around without further damaging my achilles tendon giving the tendon a chance to heal. Also today, we will celebrate our anniversary by going to a restaurant for lunch. Brady will be with us. When we take her with us to a restaurant, we make sure we arrive at an off time. I need a table that’s out of the way and large enough that she can fit under the table. A table in a corner is preferable.
While my tendon heals, I’ve been having to use a walker to get around. I decided to make a bag for my walker. I used a Kwik Sew pattern and the pattern had a few mistakes. I had to redraft the pattern to make the bag 3 inches longer and 1 inch wider. I also needed to adjust the length of the straps that attach the bag to the walker. The strap length of the original pattern was too short.
This was the bag I made with the original pattern.
The new and improved bag. I made it from some upholstery fabric I found for $4.99 a yard at JoAnn’s.
I did an embroidery design on the inside of the flap. No reason why I shouldn’t have something cute to look at when I open the bag. I used proofs of my Spoonflower designs for the lining.
And the back of the bag. I didn’t realize the Star of David didn’t point straight up so I didn’t change the orientation.
My rabbi sent an email to the congregation yesterday. A credible threat had been made to our temple and our congregation. Local police and FBI are investigating. There will be security during services, but a couple rent-a-cops aren’t much of a defense against a terrorist. I’ll be attending services via zoom. I’m so tired of being afraid. I’m so tired of university presidents granting legitimacy to pro-hamas terrorists. I’m so tired of people not taking anti-Semitism seriously. I’m tried of researching military-grade body armor capable of stopping a round from an assault rifle. Unfortunately, the strongest armor is the one class that isn’t made to protect a woman’s body. I’m tired of leaving Brady home because I’m worried that I won’t be able to protect her. When my great-great-grandparents along with my 10-month-0ld great-grandmother left East Prussia, they were disguised as German Lutherans. Now I understand why they hid. I’m torn between wanting to stand up to terrorists and refuse to be bullied into hiding and not wanting to get killed.
Deb's Art 