"27, and no prospects..."

Do you give much thought to the eighteenth century?

That is to say, if you were going to live in another time period, have you ever wondered what time period that would be?

For me, I'm pretty sure it would be the eighteenth century, doin' it up King George styles. Woo to the hoo. But none of this lice, poo thrown out the window, dirty, nasty stuff. Nope. I'm strictly talkin' Jane Austen styles--ribbons in the hair, pretty dresses, balls (the dancing with partners kind), turns about the room, the drying of flowers in 'the parlor', and "the improvement of one's mind through extensive reading."

I'm pretty sure I was born for this. Yaris and I just stumbled into the uterus a wee bit late. Well, maybe just me *blush*.

Sometimes, though, just sometimes, when I'm reading Austen or watching Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility for the umpteenth time, there's a part of me... A tiny part, that gets so wrapped up in it all... In the beautiful writing, and the (albeit) completely ridiculous story line, that I become somewhat sad I'm not a part of it all.

That's silly, right?

I know it. But, le sigh... It is le fact.

Ho hom. On a related matter... Remember the Lust conversation? Well, against my better judgement, as Mr. Darcy would say, this Keira scene with the gonna-kiss-ya-not-gonna-kiss-ya-staring-at-the-mouth-business is creepin' up on Girly with the Pearl Ear Bobble: