Is it wrong that I am so excited about the Frampton boys decamping to South Jersey this weekend, leaving me alone in Brooklyn?

Because I am really excited.

“Logy” means “dull and listless,” and I gotta say, that’s me. Clive Owen could appear at my doorstep holding a big-ass bottle of Pinot Noir, a pair of silver hoop earrings and a not-yet-released Loretta Chase book, and I’d just hold the door open and stare at him.

No loge. None at all.

I am trying to work on a synopsis of something I’ve written a chapter and a synopsis for; obviously, the synopsis I wrote originally isn’t working, I know it’s weak. So I gotta write a better one. The chapter is all kinds of fun, I laugh aloud when I read it, but it needs to be doing somewhere. I took notes yesterday, Carolyn Jewel-style, but I haven’t nailed it. I hope to tonight, when perhaps I will have more lists (i.e. not be listless) and full of more vim, less loge.

Meanwhile, tell Clive to give me a few days. I’ll be perky again.

In the Details Clive interview, he talks about falling in love with his wife at first sight (my italics for emphasis):

“I fell in love with her the minute she came in. She was late, she had these glasses and a pile of secondhand books.”

I am usually not late, but other than that? IT’S ME! Only I’m not British, married to Clive, or named Sarah-Jane.

But other than that? IT’S ME!

So this being my weekend alone, I decided to go out to the movies. Towards this end, I enlisted the Super-Smart Lawyer, who shares my passion for Clive Owen (and who might even go to see Dan Brown’s Angels And Demons movie for the pleasure of seeing Ewan McGregor, her fave).

We saw The International, with Clive and Naomi Watts.

The movie was awful. Slow, painful, awful. And made no sense, either. And did I mention it was slow? At one point I leaned over to the S-S L and said, “Somewhere, molasses is complaining that this is slow.” And cliches up the yin-yang! The two Italians with slicked back hair and nice suits; Clive who apparently borrowed Columbo’s raincoat and wears it the entire time, just to show how earnest he is in chasing the bad guys. The bad guys, who are coldly polite white Europeans. The former communist who pronounces the goofiest bombast to display his deep internal crisis. Bah.

Both of the leads were good in their respective parts, but really? I wonder if either even read the script, or just thought, ‘hey, international banking espionage murder woo-hoo!’ Because the dialogue was leaden. There were quite a few holes in the plot that even I, non-plot follower that I am, could spot. It was based on true events, but apparently with less gunplay and much, much more paperwork.

[wait. I just went and checked out some reviews, and Ebert actually liked this! And some other reviewers did, too! Am I missing something? Am I an idiot? Did we see the same movie? I am so perplexed.]

Can you tell I am bummed? I wasn’t expecting much of anything, even the previews made it look like a dud, but this didn’t even meet those expectations.

So I came home and watched more episodes of Cranford. I still have that bad taste in my mouth from the ludicrous International, however.

The NBA All-Star Game-attending Spouse returns tomorrow, but the Nine Year-Old is away all week, so the Spouse and I will be out, together, at night! I think tomorrow we’re actually going to see a band!

1. What kind of love and sex stuff would you like to read about in your favorite ladies’ magazine? I ask because I’ll be pitching my favorite ladies’ mag soon with some topics.

2. What should I do Valentine’s Day? The Spouse AND the Son will both be away, and I am pondering:

a. watching historical dramas and drinking wine by myself
b. going to the movies by myself
c. trying to find another similarly alone friend and hanging with them. Wine and historical dramas probably not optional.
d. crying myself to sleep

3. I can’t seem to get writing; what should I try to motivate myself?

4. Have you pre-ordered Carolyn Jewel’s Scandal yet?

5. Do you want to follow me on Twitter?: http://twitter.com/meganf

6. What book are you reading now?

7. What’s your favorite zany, albeit also serious, contemporary?

8. When will it stop being cold?

9. Is Wanted, with Angelina and James McAvoy, a good cheesy movie or too godawful even to laugh through?

10. What are you most excited about lately? Not necessarily any one topic, just . . . anything.

You ever get so little sleep that your eyelid keeps twitching? Yeah, that’s me. I spent a glorious weekend sleeping in, then last night the Freelancing Spouse was up late working, and the Son had many issues sleeping, so when we went to bed at 2am, the Son joined us. In our double bed. With three people: Me, my 6′1″ Spouse and the Not Short For His Age Son.

I slept on the edge of the bed for my five hours.

I hate Twitchy Eyelid.

BUT the weekend was awesome, but it was nice to see the Frampton Boys home again, and I can maybe grab a snooze later on today.

I gather I have been rather down at the mouth here, which is an unfortunate by-product of being really down in real life. You see, and it’s something I’m okay with, I don’t mask things here. I mean, I do, I don’t spill every time I fall off the Q-Tip wagon, or get excited because I cleaned the stairs and the baseboards yesterday (honestly, I had a dewy glow for at least 10 minutes afterward), but I do like to mention state of mind.

So. My state of mind is marginally better. I had an epiphany regarding the already-finished, at-the-agent’s book, which I’ll be working on in the next few days. I realized that I cannot sell books if I do not write them, nor can I get rid of pesky pounds if I do not exercise. Ergo, logic dictates I write and exercise, two of my ‘Take Care of Megan’ things to do anyway, especially helpful when life seems bleak.

And I dreamt about Clive last night. Le sigh.

Thanks to Netflix, I am able to watch things I never could before. Including the role that first brought Clive Owen to the public’s attention, Chancer. It’s about a skirting-the-law kind of shyster guy (Owen) who does vaguely rakish nefarious things. Anyway, all the reviews I read (save one) said it wasn’t even good if you were a huge CO fan. And they were right!

He’s charming, and all, but that is about it. I didn’t waste my time. There were MI-5 episodes calling my name.

In other news, I finished the first draft of the super-sexy novella yesterday. Today the Son and I are home sick, me more than him, feh on that.

Because the Delightful Phone Friend (aka Myretta Robens) said she missed Clive.

Tomorrow, the Spouse the Nine Year-Old and I will be headed to the Jersey Shore for a week. Posting here will be sporadic, at best. So–to keep you occupied while I am away, how’s about you let me know what you’d like to talk about here? Or not talk about (yes, I know I am obsessive about Clive. I can cut down, honestly I can! No. I can’t. I am too far gone).

In writing news, my agent sent out That Subtle Knot and expects to get feedback in a couple of weeks, give or take a few nail-biting hours. I am more than halfway done with the super-sexy novella, and On Bold Adventure (aka Richard Sharpe Settles Down, At Last)is burning a hole in my brain, so that will be September’s project.

I have no Life News, except to report that my mom–The Queen of Flakes–actually remembered to call me on my birthday, although she did not remember precisely how old I was.  One step at a time, right?