Dissertation Deadline

This is exactly how I feel right now. I just set my defense date for March 19, which seems so far away, but then when I remember that I have to send my paper to my committee 2 weeks before that and give it to my advisor for revisions like 2 weeks before that, I'm pretty sure that means I have to be finished with it sometime last year. Couple that with the fact that I'm still waiting for some data to come in from people who promised it to me last month, and you get a recipe for a time bomb. Tick...tick...tick...

One man's trash...

Ever since I can remember, I've had virtually no money to buy people gifts, at Christmas or otherwise. Comes with the territory of assuming a career as a student, I suppose. So I've had to get creative with presents, and often those presents have come out of some sort of junk-ish item. For instance, there was the clock made out of an old record; the end table made from an old cable spool, a gallon of grout, and a few bagfulls of glass scrap from a nice stained glass maker; the $5 garage sale dresser decopauged with free rave flyers from Little 5 Points. (Actually, it's starting to sound like I only give this crap to my husband, who was the recipient of the three gifts mentioned above...should he be concerned?) Anyway, this Christmas is no exception to my trash-to-treasure (well, I can call it treasure, anyway) gifts. But I'm sooo proud of this one! My littlest brother is a huge car nut, and clearly, I can't buy him a lamborghini. He's getting ready to graduate and move out on his own, so I decided to make him a wall clock out of an old hubcap. My husband and I went to the car junkyard the other day and spent 2 hours walking around in the rain to find the "perfect" (meaning: intact, not too heavy, not from a minivan, and not too shiny) hubcap from which to make this clock. By the way, this is a pretty fun and cheap date...it's amazing what things people leave in their cars, and it's equally amazing what other people will pry off of those cars to take home with them. Anyway, I'm so stoked about this clock; almost as stoked as I am that I get to go home for Christmas (cue Michael Buble singing in the background) and give it to my bro. In fact, when I told him his gift was coming from a junkyard, he told me that was just like telling a woman her gift was coming from Tiffany's. Man, I love that boy. Hopefully this "treasure" will last longer than Mark's did (the record clock and the end table never made it out of his hell hole of a bachelor pad, but the dresser...drumroll...now has a happy home in our closet).

Christmas Surprises

Christmas never fails to bring surprises, but this year may top them all. my boyfriend's back. javier lopez has returned to the braves, and i couldn't be happier. i know that he's just been given a chance in spring training, but believe you me, javy will perform. and with any luck, he'll be given his old number so that i can once again wear my javy shirt to the games and little kids won't wonder who this "lopez" guy is. who knows what awesome changes are in store for the bravos now that my javy has returned? the glory days are back, baby! they're back!!

How to Shmooze

I recently asked a good friend what the most influential books in his life had been, and he responded with Dale Carnegie's "How to Win Friends and Influence People." As I know this guy pretty well and respect his opinions, I completely thought he was joking. He wasn't. I had always thought of this book as a way that salesmen, politicians, and those hokey televangelists with the big pink hair could put some more notches in their belts and fifties in their pockets, a kind of brown-nosers' guide to life at the top. Having never read the book myself, though, I'm pretty sure that my perception was based entirely on the title alone. And by the way--I still do hold to the fact that it is an abysmal title. But, because my friend doesn't fit in any of the fake, money-grubbing, despicable categories I've mentioned here, I've decided that I should read the book for myself. I see this thing ending in one of three ways. One, I realize my friend for what he truly is: a sad, false little man with such little regard for himself that he relies on the number of "friends" on his myspace page for his only source of self worth. (As I created the page for him because he refused to resign himself to cyber-relations, I think this outcome is highly unlikely). Two, the book changes my life, as well, and consequently my relationships become much healthier and much more fulfilling for all involved. And three, I realize that the sway I have held over people in the past has been a drop in the bucket compared to the influence I could have, and I end up ruling the universe and "persuading" everyone to do the things that I think are necessary for life (eating ice cream at every opportunity; bringing home Christmas trees the day after Thanksgiving, no earlier, no later; refusing to wear orange no matter the cost, etc.). If only I had more friends to give me their opinion on the book...oh, wait...that's outcome number four! Stay tuned...

Blessings from Heaven

"Consider the sparrows of the field, they neither sow nor reap, but God takes care of them.”
I'm not sure about how much reaping and sowing go on in our lives, but God sure does take care of us. Lately I've tried to be aware of all of the ways God blesses us. There are the little ways, like how we'll just oddly decide to take an alternate driving route to our friends' house, only to miss an incredible wreck that we would've been stuck in for hours if we had gone the other way. Or how I often get e-mails or phone calls from friends/family just when I need them most. Or how it seemed that we would be alone for both Thanksgiving and Christmas this year because of Mark's work but, without any doing on our part, it turns out that both holidays will bring family closer to us so that we can spend them with the people we love most. But just this past week, 2 huge blessings fell upon us and I feel like I'll burst if I don't tell everyone! Mark and I, as everyone knows, are pretty low on funds right now. Even though we are really strict in how we spend our money, it's a challenge every month to stay in the black (or is it in the red? in the white? I really shouldn't use phrases like this if I'm not sure how to use them correctly. I mean to say: in the whatever color means no debt). This is especially hard as the holidays approach because our friends and family are so giving and we really love to reciprocate that sentiment. So Mark comes home on Monday night and says that the people at work love him so much that they are giving him a promotion and a raise...to start at the beginning of December. Perfect timing or what? And then to top the blessing cup right off, this week we are down to the bare bones in our pantry and I can't go to the grocery until this weekend when I get paid. So I'm getting pretty creative in our meals this week, but even creativity runs out. Just as I was wondering what Mark could eat for lunch since all of our bread was gone, and wondering what we could eat for dinner since all of our everything else was gone, Mark gets a free lunch at work that was brought in for a meeting he wasn't a part of. And then, best of the best, our friend calls and invites us to celebrate his 30th birthday at one of the fanciest restaurants I've ever been to, courtesy of his father-in-law, who wanted to treat him to a birthday dinner and asked him to invite 2 friends. It was fabulous (although I think 5 choices of water is overdoing it a little bit)! All this to say, God is so good to us and we are so undeserving. I think the verse "Do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will worry about itself" is such an awesome encouragement and always proves to be so true. Thanks, God!

Wish List: Chi and Dragons

This past weekend brought two new items into my life that were immediately moved to the very top of my wish list: a Chi hair straightener and a dragon.
I'll start with the Chi. My sister-in-law came up to visit. We were getting ready to go out and she asked me if I wanted to use her hair straightener (a "Chi"). As anybody knows, because I had my hair up in a ponytail all day (from straight-out-of-the-shower-wet), I told her that no straightener could tame my hair well enough to wear it down that night. But she convinced me to try it, so I released my hair from its rubberbanded knot, revealing cascades of all kinds of wonky waves, and set to straighten. It was as if I had a magic wand in my hand and was secretly issuing some kind of ancient spell from my mind as I passed the wand over my hair. It was incredible. I have fairly crazy hair, so rarely do I ever talk about how pretty it is. Not this night. I couldn't STOP talking about it, touching it, brushing it, swooshing it back and forth. Glorious. It could've been angel hair, but it was MY hair. So now I just have to save up $85 to purchase it. Eighty-five dollars, you say, for a styling tool? Honestly, I would've been willing to pay five times that amount. It's that good.
Yesterday Mark and I watched Eragon and I fell in love. I want a dragon. I really want a dragon. In fact, I want a specific dragon, Saphira. But if I can't have her (which, clearly, I can't, because she has chosen another rider), I'll settle for whichever one chooses me. I wonder how long one must wait? I've heard that some dragons wait thousands of years to hatch until they feel the presence of their rider. That means that somewhere, maybe on a ranch in Nashville, maybe in a bar in Stockholm, maybe in a fune in Okinawa (where Mr. Miagi also waits for me), my dragon sits in his/her egg just hoping to soon fulfill her destiny with me, her rider. How exciting! Plus, how much more awesome of a dragon rider will I look like when I'm fighting evil from the tail of my beast with gorgeous, shiny, stick-straight hair?

Volume: 12

Lately I've been thinking about people's quirks, specifically those of my close friends and family...I think I have way more than people realize. Actually, I'm pretty sure that my friends could come up with a much worse list, but I'm giving it a go...

I have to keep my car radio volume level on an even number.

I can't stand for people to scrape their plates with their silverware, but I could listen to nails on a chalkboard all day with no effect.

I love the words: fantastic, shimmer, dessert, deep, grace

I hate the words: unpack, leakage, zeitgeist, parse, merge

I have to wear matching bras and panties every day as much as laundry allows, and I get a bonus if I can match them to my clothes.

When I make a to-do list and then I do something that isn’t on the list, I will often write it on the list anyway and immediately cross it off.

If I use the bathroom during a football game and my team has a bad play while I’m gone, I can’t use that bathroom again until after the game.

After I put chapstick on, I rub my lips together so often that the chapstick only lasts for like 30 minutes.

I refuse to eat brussel sprouts.

I have to sleep on my husband’s left side from now on because that’s the side I slept on when we were first married.

I have to do all my shower processes in the same order or I forget what I’ve washed and what I haven’t.

When my husband jumps on the couch with the dog and it moves a quarter of an inch, I freak out. How will I ever find the exact indentation in the carpet again, and what travesty will occur if I can't?

If I’m reading a good book, I have to cover up every word on the current page and the next page except for the sentence I am on, because I don’t want to accidentally read something that hasn’t happened yet.

I believe that if I wish upon a star, as long as I say in my head “Starlight, starbright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight” first, my wish will eventually come true.

I have to have turkey at Thanksgiving.

I have to have ham at Easter.

Every morning I leave the house, I have to say to my dog, “OK, girl. I love you. See you this afternoon” and then make a kiss sound twice, or else I am sure that she will be upset and do something destructive while I’m gone, despite the fact that she hasn’t done anything bad in like 4 years. Probably because I’ve been saying my morning routine to her every day.

I worry about letting a car with a UT license plate out in front of me…does that mean that they will beat us because we’re suckers, or that we will beat them because we’re nicer?

I wonder what my dog’s voice sounds like inside her head. And oh yeah, I’m sure she has one.

So much more to come…

Waxing Alabama...by me

tyrone prothro, brodie croyle,
juwan, kenneth, and tim,
every time i think of you,
a tear also falls for him.
he, the coach, the lamb of a man,
the tender-hearted doll.
oh what i wouldn't give for him
to come back to bama ball.
but alas, the bama fans are nuts
and demand a higher rank,
and rest assured, coach nick saban
laughs all the way to the bank.
but this season does offer us
a glint of shining hope,
that saban, wilson, grant, and hall,
and tiffin (he's no dope),
can ride the wave of crimson tide
right to old auburn's door,
shut down the farmer battle cry
and add to bama lore.
could this be it, number 13?
i think it's a little fast,
but God willing, our redneck rivals
will feel the BAMA BLAST!

Lament to a Nose Ring

I had it for 6 years and now it's gone. There were no long goodbyes, no tearful partings. It was there, and then it wasn't. And I miss it and I don't. I miss the feeling it gave me, the sense of badassishness that it provided in a world where so often I'm not so badassish. I do not, however, miss worrying about losing it every time I blew my nose. In our time together, we became virtually inseparable. It never left my side (er, nose). In the end I suppose it decided it was time for a different path, as so many of life's pairings inevitably separate. Either that, or it was the constant wiping of sweat off of my face in our last game of 110-degree-weather golf. Either way, it's gone and I've decided that I will let it go. Actually, I decided that after several failed attempts to replace it. Apparently my nose had grown so accustomed to that particular stud that it had no eyes for any other. So, as my mother whispers silent prayers of thanks, I will go on, sans facial piercing. I wonder who this new person will be. I wonder where my need for the occasional feeling of badassishness will be satiated. Perhaps it is time for my first tattoo (sorry, Mom)?

WTF?

They say that you learn something new every day. Today I learned a new fact about one of my favorite American clans...sorority girls. I had heard (and seen movies with wonderful depictions) of the trials of sorority rush; about how you must wear the right clothes, ask the right questions, respond like a Miss America finalist, sit with your legs crossed just-so, party just the right amount (not so much that you're a drunk, but enough to make you fun at a House party), be adequately promiscuous (not so much that you're a raging slut, but enough to make you sufficiently wanted by the frat boys), etc. What I hadn't heard, however, is that some girls actually take classes (it was referred to as rush school) to learn how to be in the A-list sorority echelon. Such classes train you to shine during rush with your most brilliant Kappa Delta-ish sparkle. They polish you until you can rush with the best of them, and be accepted into your top pick. Not directly exposed to the Greek system myself, thankfully, I can only hope that some glimmer of your original personality will still lie latent somewhere inside yourself after the process is over. It's astonishing how much people, especially girls, will try their damndest to become a person wanted by the throng of mostly blonde, mostly white, mostly there on their parents dollar with plenty of dough to spare, sorority girl. Thank God for Berry College.

Wherefore ART thou?

We went to several art galleries this past weekend, and I am struck with the question of when a piece of art really shouldn't be considered art. I understand that people have their own unique interpretations and tastes and visions and blah blah blah. I fail to see how a photograph of a fuse box, regardless of the incredible lighting or the nouveaux angle, can not only be called art but be sold for $500. I don't expect everybody, or really anybody, to necessarily like the "art" that I own, and I certainly don't expect one single person besides my husband to appreciate the hideous oil-mounded-on-canvas "painting" of a dungeon hallway that looks like it belongs in The Haunted Mansion that he so cherishes. But I think some people just so strongly feel the need to be creative but so deeply lack the talent that such adjectives demand that they just throw whatever they can on a canvas or photo paper and call it art. And it isn't. I'll just warn you that if I walk into your house and you have "art" covering the walls that consists of paintings of decapitated babydolls, two-headed roosters, skeleton heads on Dali-knock off drawer bodies, and/or oversized plain white mailing envelopes, I will promptly leave, whether you have guacamole or not.

Anticipation

My husband's coming tomorrow! My husband's coming tomorrow! My husband's coming tomorrow!!!!!!!!

As a side note...

Deciding what window to look out of to check the weather here is like a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book. Each window offers a completely different weather picture. And, just like many of those old books, somehow, no matter which window you choose, you still wind up in the end with rain anyway. Ha, and to illustrate this...I just came down from getting coffee when I started to write this. I wanted coffee because of the cold rain outside. And I just turned to take a picture of the rain to post with this message, but the window shows me blue skies and sunlight. Seriously. It's all a freaking illusion.

Unforcasted Weekend

What a weekend. Friday night I met a girl from school and a friend of hers at an Irish pub downtown and found out that they had Hoegaarden on tap...funny how I have to come all the way to Sweden to find that. So happy. Turns out that 3 big beers that are all different and all heavy, even when you've eaten, can make you walk pretty funny, but the sunset was beautiful and I got yelled at by a Swedish man on his bike when I was taking pictures. I couldn't stop laughing. Saturday I went on a boat ride with Eva, Mats, their daughter Cajsa, and a friend of hers to an island in Lake Malaren. It was like we stepped off the shore of civilized world and into a 1,000-year-old time warp, and it was awesome. Only a handful of people still live on the island, but we hiked and picnicked for several hours without seeing very many of them. The flowers are starting to come out and, despite the unforcasted cold and clouds, it was beautiful. I've been on more picnics here in the last month than I have in the entire last year in the States. Picnics are soooo underrated. Speaking of unforcasted cold, apparently Sweden is famous for that, too. Everyday the past week has been a mix of t-shirt warmth, clear blue skies, thunder, lightning, rain storms, hail, and bitter cold. Dressing for the weather is more of a challenge here than I've ever encountered before and, honestly, I've never been all that good at it anyway. Saturday night Mats's 18-year-old daughter Sara and her friends made dinner for us, and we talked about how Swedish sheets make more sense than American sheets and Americans can't pronounce Swedish words correctly. However, I am the apparent exception, thank you very much. Sunday I went with Martina and her girls to the fair (really similar to US county fairs with dinky rides and overpriced crap for sale). Then we went to Anundshog, one of the biggest and oldest burial mounds in Sweden with rock formations that look, from above, like boats. We climbed to the top of this huge hill and then the Swedish unforcast kicked in and we had to picnic under the roof of a nearby building instead. After lunch, the rain stopped, and we walked around the hills and watched the girls play. And then the hail started and all 4 of us ran across the field to the car holding the picnic blanket over our heads. Martina and I left the girls at home playing the coolest Playstation game ever and went to see her husband, Christer, at their sailboat in the marina. If I had a sailbot, you know that I'd wear an eyepatch, hair beads, and lots of eyeliner all the time. I had to spend the night last night at Mats and Eva's house to take care of their cats while they were away. No, I have not developed a liking, per se, for cats, but these were pretty cute. I watched Anna & the King and Tomb Raider 2, interspersed, with Swedish subtitles. Funny, because both of those movies have a lot of other-language speak, and without English subtitles for those parts, it's impossible to understand. I slept like crap because of the 2 skylights in the room I slept in. The sky didn't get completely dark until around midnight or 12:30, and the sun came up again around 3:30 in the morning. I kept waking up and looking at my watch and wondering if I had slept until 3:30 in the afternoon, but no, it was fake afternoon. This morning I walked home in BEAUTIFUL weather and was so warm when I got home that I opened all the windows in my apartment. I got into the shower and when I got out, it was freezing and getting ready to pour rain. Ah, well. It's my last week in Sweden (and I just now learned how to pronounce goodbye in Swedish correctly...sigh).

Fizzing Whizzbies

Friday night I went out with some girls to an Irish pub (where I had the biggest Hoegaarden I've ever had in my life) and then to the Skybar at the top of the only skyscraper in Vasteras. Great view, although it hardly justified the $10 for a small gin and tonic with LEMON instead of LIME. On Saturday I went to Stockholm with Eva, Mats, their daughter Cajsa, and her friend. We took them to the teddy bear factory (which, when spoken by a Swede in English, sounds a lot like "beer" factory). Then we walked around the old part of the town where the king's castle is. We went to the best market with tons of small counters with the best cheese, freshest meats, and hugest vegetables ever. I dream about living close to a place like that!! Stopped by the candy store on the way home and went crazy getting candies in little bags. Most of them were good, but every once in a while you bit into something that Fred and George Weasley must have come up with. Ugh. Getting homesick...I would LOVE a philly cheese steak right now. I have bought 3 different kinds of yogurt on 3 different trips to the grocery store, only to find that none of them were actually yogurt but were instead a drink, rice pudding, and a gelatin dessert, in that order. No more yogurt for me...I'll stick to my breakfast of orange juice and cookies. My mom was going to come over but the flights aren't working out, so I'm a little bummed, by Mark gets here in a little over a week! Can't wait!

Crazy Europeans

And Finland won. I'm out.

Pancakes and Eurovision

Last night I went to Martina's house and she taught me how to make pea soup and pancakes, the traditional Swedish meal for Thursday nights in memory of the poisoned king. The soup was incredible and the pancakes were like the crepes that my Mom makes (girls--do you remember?), only a little thicker, and we ate them with homemade rasberry puree and fresh whipped cream. We also drank the traditional punch with the meal, which is a shot of super-sweet liquor. Yum. And watching Martina's youngest daughter eat the pancakes like an animal and then lick the plate was great. So after dinner, Martina's husband made me stay to watch Eurovision. If you've never heard of this (like I hadn't), you really wouldn't believe it. The whole time I thought I was watching a bad episode of Saturday Night Live, only it wasn't a joke. Charles---did you ever watch this?? Apparently the show has been going on for 50 years or so. The show is an annual contest for the best song in Europe, and at least a couple of people have been made famous (ABBA in 1974 and Celine Dion in 1988). Each country in Europe votes on the song they want to represent their country, and then they get someone entertaining to sing it in the competition. There are several stages, and last night was a semi-final. One of the final competitions is Saturday. So I'll just say that if I were from, say, Iceland, I would be mortified that I was being represented by such insane crap. Each band/singer puts on this 2.5 minute performance and you get a range of everything from Ricky Martin wannabes (a popular choice this year) to chicks in go-go boots and garter belts beating on drums to this crazy girl from Iceland who acted like a blonde American bimbo (like from the Barbie Girl song) and ran around sliding down enormous candy canes and saying "Oh My God" like a complete ditz. And, my personal favorite, Finland. A bunch of guys and girls dressed up like demons (complete with unfolding bat wings on the lead singer) who sang their song "Hard Rock Hallelujiah"...I couldn't keep my jaw from hanging open. Without a doubt, one of the most bizarre things I've EVER seen in my life. And in case you're wondering, yes, Finland made it to the finals. This definitely needs to be on American TV, although I'm not sure it would lead to a very positive view of Europe. And if anyone has known about this and hasn't shared with the group, you should be strung up by your toenails and sung to by Finland.

Love in the Mine

95% of all of the houses in Sweden are either yellow or red, and here's why. I'll start with my trip to Falun. On Wednesday I had to take a train (for the only time in my life, as far as I can remember) to a city called Falun about 2 hours northwest of Vasteras. I had to change trains twice and all announce- ments were in Swedish, so it was definitely an adventure. But the countryside was really beautiful... through the forests and across lakes. I got to Falun and Gunnel (a PhD student who does research on time-assisted devices for children and adults with special needs) took me to the Kopparberget, the old copper mine that the town is famous for. Falun, and the surrounding region, is really considered to be the heart of Sweden. There is a true story about a young man and woman who had fallen in love and were engaged to be married, several hundred years ago or something. The man worked in the mine and disappeared on the day before his wedding. Most people thought he got cold feet and ran away, but whatever the reason, he was never seen again. Forty years later, some miners were working in the mine and ran into an old abandoned mine shaft. At the bottom of the shaft they found a man who had died from falling down the shaft, breaking both of his legs, and not being able to climb back out. They didn't know how long he had been down there, but he looked like he was in his 20's and hadn't yet begun to decompose. They pulled him out and put him on display in the town square in a glass coffin. The woman who had lost her love so many years before immediately recognized him as her fiancee because he still looked the same, although she and everyone else had aged 40 years. The townspeople paraded the man around the country as proof of the preservative powers of the mine's minerals. Now those minerals are used in house paint, and the houses only need repainting every 20 years or so. Because of the paint, you almost never see a house in Sweden that looks faded; all the houses are bright colors. Long story but cool ending, yeah? Then Gunnel took me to a hill above the city where there are 2 HUGE ski jumps that run in the winter time, and I really cannot imagine how freaking nuts you have to be to do that. I stayed at Gunnel's house after visiting the hospital that she worked at. Her 21-year-old son is in a medieval band and he played his hurdy-gurdy for me. Really cool. Then his friends told me how stupid they thought American football was. I ate pickled herring for dinner...don't ever try it. It's nothing like sushi. But the homemade Schnapps that we drank with it made the meal fantastic. Moonshine will do wonders for a slimy salty fish.

Wilbur

Today I saw the biggest pig I've ever seen in my life! I went with two friends to this place, Vallby, that they call a kind of outdoor museum. We took their children (3 all together). I had to walk a ways to meet them at the museum, but the walk was beautiful, alongside the river here. And yet another beautiful day! Vallby is sort of a collection of things; many of the oldest houses and buildings in the city have been transported here. There are also several areas with farm animals: goats, sheep, pigs, chickens, roosters, rabbits, etc. And then Vallby has a lot of beautiful, small stores that sell hand-made crafts (silver, textiles, brushes, etc.), flowers, candy, and coffee. Vallby is free for anybody to come, and lots of school children take field trips here. Lovely. So, now for some weird/funny things about Sweden:

• Philip-you're right. Very Godless country. And just to illustrate the difference with one point, instead of celebrating Halloween, a holiday typically thought of as pagan to many, they have turned Easter into Easterween (that's what I call it, anyway), where kids dress up like witches with aprons and fly on brooms (although they are good witches).
  
• 
  
• Many of the cafes have outdoor seating for people that want to smoke. And, because it can be pretty chilly on many nights, they offer blue blankets for people to sit around outside all wrapped up like mummies. Looks pretty funny.
• 60% of Swedes have summer homes. Like my mom says, Swedes sure know how to live right. Except for the Godless part.
• The company that makes most of the toilets here puts its name on the button on the top of the commode that flushes the toilet. It says "IDo", so everytime I flush a toilet, I think to myself, and sometimes say aloud, "I DO flush the toilet."
• Entrances and Exits are called farts. Infart and Utfart. The signs are everywhere. Wonder what an in-fart would be in English?
• Once there was a Swedish king who was killed from poison put into his soup. So now, every Thursday, many Swedes eat pea soup and pancakes, in memory of him. This was like hundreds of years ago or something, but the pea soup continues.
  
• Today I observed a class of 5th graders during their PE, math and english lessons. There are some CRAZY good 11-year-old football (soccer) players here, by the way. For english, they read a story called Red Stains and then sang a song about it. The majority of the song was a repetition of this: "Trousers, shoes, and underpants, panties, socks and shirts--they all have red stains. Jim-where are you?" I almost peed my pants.
  

Moria

Miner fourty-niner. Nina, who is from Russia, and her Swedish boyfriend Pontis took me to these 12th century silver mines just outside the city today. It was crazy...we all had to put helmets, boots, and ponchos on. We went about 65 meters down into the earth and through the old mine shafts where workers had mined dirty silver from the ground for hundreds of years. Pretty cool. It was really cold, though, and really quiet and really wet. And dark---especially when the guide made us turn off all of our flashlights. The walls were sparkly with all of the silver and other minerals in them still. You can clearly see from the picture what the mine looked like. Ha. But it completely reminded me of Lord of the Rings when they go to the mines...you could see down shafts that looked like bottomless pits. There were tons of dead ends where they had mined in but hadn't found any silver so they went to another spot. Let's all be thankful that we aren't mine workers...it's tough stuff. Even crazier...in one of the shafts on a ledge, there were little candles in the shape of a heart. The guide told us that they had a WEDDING that day in the mine. Who would get married in a mine? Swedes are crazy. Now, a wedding in an X-Wing Fighter, THAT, I could see.