As a way of distracting my mind from my nasal discomforts, I’ve been working on Marek’s t-shirt, and it’s finished, except for “heat setting,” which is what you have to do to fabric that’s been painted. Heh. The front looks like a third grader’s art project, since that’s about the level of my drawing talents. But the back is another story. First, here’s what it all looks like (the colors didn’t come out exactly, but close enough):

Now, for the story of the design on the back, which came out pretty well, I think:
The legend of the coronation sword of Polish kings (the pommel of Szczerbiec) begins with the first king of Poland, Boleslaus the Brave (ruled 992-1025), who is said to have jagged his sword against the Golden Gate in Kiev on his victorious entry into that city in 1018. The most interesting part of the sword is the hilt, which bears some symbols and inscriptions of esoteric character.
One of these symbols is an image of the Rose of Jericho, a flower that grows in Palestine that is able to revive after it had been dried, and, therefore, is a symbol of resurrection. Curiously enough it is not a rose at all, but rather belongs to the plant order called Cruciferae or cruciferous, which features “cross-like” components. The image of the Rose of Jericho on the pommel of Szczerbiec has twelve petals, the number of the signs of the Zodiac.
Like the symmetrical design of rose windows, the image of the Rose of Jericho becomes an appropriate focus for a meditative mandala — a symbol of the eternal Polish spirit that refuses to be crushed, diminished, or silenced.
The symbol in the center is called the

Since I can’t blow it yet, I’ll blog it. I’m feeling a little better, although breathing is still a challenge, and my right eye feels like it has a toothache — a situation not unusual given the work done on the sinuses around it. So, I’m continuing to doze off watching watching tv movies and beginning to work on Marek’s t-shirt. (My eye doesn’t seem to hurt if I keep looking in one direction.) Yawn. Time for another nap. (Jeneane‘s been expending enough creative energies for both of us. She’d better save some up for George’s return tomorrow.)
I get the splints out of my nose on Thursday. I’m not looking foward to that! Luckily, I recently made the acquaintance of another woman who lives here with her mother. She’s ten years older than I (and her mother is ten years older than mine), and we have little in common except our caregiving, but that’s sure plenty at this point. She’s offered to take me to the doctor’s, and I’m going to take her up on it. It’s kind of nice to have someone nearby I might be able to count on — and vice versa. Yawn, again — both because I’m tired and because my blogging about this is getting tiresome.

Taken from here via this.
ABOUT 600 women who took over a giant ChevronTexaco oil terminal in south-east Nigeria and trapped hundreds of workers inside did not budge in their demands for jobs for their sons and electricity for their homes.
The peaceful protest by unarmed women is different for Nigeria, where such disputes are often settled with violence.
The women, from the Ugborodo and Arutan communities, want water, electricity, schools and clinics for their villages.
They complained that previous company promises had been broken.
I can’t help but wonder what would happen if all American women banded together and took control of the economic and political power bases (using a variety of strategies, such as those in Nigeria and in Lysistrata, as well as consumer boycotts etc.). Of course, it won’t happen because we are too comfortable. We have electricity and food and the bombs are not dropping on our chidren. Not yet.