Antiquarian Munchkin

Paternal pride requires that I post two more pictures of Eve in Rome. She was obsessed with Roman fountains (particularly those from the early Republic, though I believe that the late Augustan period also caught her fancy). I had to literally drag her away from the one pictured here. I carried her on my shoulder, kicking and screaming, for about 100 meters through the gauntlet of tourists on the ever-busy Forum and then set her down thinking we could now continue our walk. She promptly set forth back in the direction of the fountain. I ran after her, scooped her up, and carried her away again, this time going for a good 500 meters before letting her down. Once again, like a little carrier pigeon, she started back for the fountain. Nicole and I watched her, zig-zagging through the tourists, thinking, well, she can't possibly continue like that, and of course she'll get nervous leaving her parents behind and stop and cry or come back to us. But, no, she continued on for the equivalent of a 1/2 block, pushing aside bemused tourists, tripping over ancient paving stones and getting back up to continue her journey.

Finally, I ran after her and cut short her first classical research expedition. The protest was deafening.

They Spy

Germans are very much in a huff about the New York Times story saying that their spies passed on information to the Americans on the eve of the Iraq War.

Final proof, I think, that while their Chancellor was boldly giving the finger to Uncle Sam with one hand, he was fervently sending the a-ok sign and "I've got my fingers crossed" with the other. The real question is: why is anyone surprised? Great watersheds in foreign policy don't happen through hissy-fits, at least not in democracies. No matter how much George W. and Gerhard were seething at each other ("I am, like, so pissed at Gerhard!"), 1001 and one institutional relationships were still solidly in place.

"Crisis" my butt.

Told ya' so, people.