Would You Like Cheese With Your Crabioli ?

Today is one of those days where I am hormonal and feeling at odds with the world while simultaneously rejoicing the fabulous-ness of school and looking for mystical messages in the multiple sightings of Red Tailed Hawks.  If that opening doesn’t give you an insight in to the monkey jungle of my mind, then nothing else will.  The day is ending with me feeling decidedly like a big bowl of crabioli.

Now this feeling is not new to anyone who suffers mother nature’s monthly gift or endures hormonal shifts at any stage of life.  Couple that with kids and stress and homework and housework and you can understand my crabioli dilemma.  How do I pull myself out of this decided funk without self medicating on sugar or latte’s (today that ship has already sailed, struck a reef and sunk)?  What should I do to add the cheese to my crabioli and finish off the day on a high note ?  Apparently I should chose to take 4 kids from the ages of 11-14 swimming… what the heck was I thinking ?  And so here I sit watching a variety of bathing suits straining against an even wider variety of flesh as I vent my distress to you all.

I have been self medicating with Pride and Prejudice through out this bout of PMS and beyond.  Not the knock off one with Kiera Knightley and Matthew Macfayden but the true blue, heaving bosoms and the penetrating stares filled with the silent longing of Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth.  Oh my giddy aunt but does that man put the cheese on my crabioli !  I recognize that in real life Colin Firth may not be the man of my dreams but if I could somehow arrange for him to haughtily march about my grounds in Darcy-esque fashion on demand, I believe I may never be cranky again.

Does it get any better than Mr. Darcy ?

Next will be Sense and Sensibility.  There is something about the proper etiquette, coquettish fashions and attention to social moray that just lulls me to happiness.  Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant do a divine job of portraying love gone awry while Alan Rickman‘s portrayal of the beleaguered Colonel Brandon softens this Snape-haters heart.  In this harum-scarum society of ours where boys at the dances my daughter goes to feel it’s appropriate to manhandle the young ladies in attendance, it does my heart good to know that once upon a time gentleman knew how to behave if only in public.  And it is my sincere hope that with record of this decorous and gentlemanly behaviour it may once again be in vogue to adopt the manners of the Darcy’s and Brandon’s of the world.

I recognize that I digress but this is part and parcel of my search for peace and calm.  Reaching in to the past where ladies knew how to dress and men knew how to appreciate without overt ogling.  Where fine arts like music and painting were cultivated and a mandatory part of education.  Where socializing had rules and regulations as well as innocent fun.  Where I don’t have to hear about 12 year olds swapping tongue spit with other … but that is another post.  Needless to say, my mind is decidedly unsettled with a number of issues and right now the only thing that appears to offering an oasis in this desert of crankiness is a visit down Jane Austen Lane.

This is where leaving a blog post and trying to come to back to the page in the same frame of mind sometimes falls down.  I am decidedly still crabby but it has shifted from a death stare, don’t come near me kind of feeling in to a melancholy will nothing ever get better sort of state.  Neither of these frames of mind are conducive to a positive and cheerful countenance but there you have it.  I did try to add cheese to my bowl of crabioli yesterday by visiting one of my favorite places on the planet: Across the Pond.  This is a lovely little British shop that just delights the senses and lightens the pocketbook while transporting me back to the land royalty and family.  It brings me one step closer to the Mr. Darcy’s and Mr. Ferrar’s of yesteryear although I doubt they ever enjoyed a good Caramac or Jelly Baby.

Oh sweet divinity ...

What’s my point you ask ? I honestly don’t know.  I guess I am looking for someone to confirm that they too succumb to crabioli days.  And I know this is true.  I know there are LOADS of people who suffer far more than a case of the blahs or blues but just the same.  What do you do to add cheese to your bowl of crabioli ? Do you find succor in the passions of Jane Austen ? Do you drown your sorrows with McTavish sweets and shortbread ?  Is it a good cup of tea that brings you back to your senses ?  For me, any of these things will usually work and sometimes are necessary in tandem.  Yesterday was one of those days.  Today it will be transporting myself to a beach if Fiji as some masochistic Yogi in a leotard tells me to flip my dog during hot yoga.  Hopefully by then my bowl of crabioli will be empty or I might just flip her something else instead …  I should probably have another cup of tea before I go :).

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