So what did the women do during the Fall of the Roman Empire? Were they even aware? Perhaps they experienced shortages in their soaps and perfumes? The turkish towels weren't so thick and luxurious of late and rumor had it they weren't even being made in Turkey but in some country where the hourly wage was pennies to the dollar? I wonder.

This weekend the country mouse whose only news source is Jon Stewart was dropped into the center of a seething hive of current events and it made me want to bury my head still deeper in the sweet distractions of American commercialism. Is the US war on Iraq rendering you into a bleating, helpless raisinette? Go shopping. Is it distressing to see the government hijacking the country? Head to the spa.

I think the Roman women lounged about the edge of their marble baths, heads wrapped in white turbans, as the civilization they knew crumbled to the ground around them. I'd like to say I had a different spirit. That I was someone who would get inspired and know that one person can make a difference and get political! Rah. Unfortunately, the centuries upon centuries of human behavior refute my smallest thought of endeavor. All I ever needed to know about human politics I learned from Aristophanes' The Birds. Point finale.

So, while Rome burns, I shall indulge in all the yum that human civilization has to offer. Shopping on Birch Street. Tara bought this poppy doormat (on the left). I'm gaga over this ribbon shop that is so much more. This just makes me happy. I don't even need to buy anything. I just want to be here.

And here. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the sweet, yeast, warm, heaven fragrance. Do you know there are NO bakeries where I live? That's a crime. A crime. It reduces me to a woman who walks into bakeries with a camera to capture moments of bliss.

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