Many movies this weekend: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which I liked, but the heroine’s hair was both hideous and complicated. The Super-Smart Lawyer and I had wine and ground lamb pizza. Much wine. Toby Stephens is hawt. We agreed a dance party at our house is in order. Apropos of nothing, just that we both like dancing (and did I mention the wine?!?)

Then on Saturday, the Spouse and I watched Volver, starring Penelope Cruz, who tops the Spouse’s list, now she’s gotten a little older and is packing on a little weight. It was good, did not veer into magic realism as I’d feared. We drank Spanish wine to honor the country of origin.

And on Sunday, in a rare outdoor-Frampton sighting, I saw Burn After Reading AT A MOVIE THEATRE with the Greco-Sicilian Doctor. She liked it more than I did, which is good, ’cause we were celebrating her birthday.

Yeah, yawn. I’m dull. But well-viewed.

As expected, the Super-Smart Lawyer and I had a great time last night.

So I’m kinda hurting today. But not as bad as the Convivial Spouse, who was out until 5 in the morning.

Thank goodness for play-dates and oatmeal.

Megan
PS: The graphic is just something that cracked me up. From xkcd.

We’ve had a respite here in terms of frantic frothing about North And South, but that is about to change: My girlfriend, the Super-Smart Lawyer, is coming over on Saturday and we will be watching it.

She has more passion for Ewan McGregor than I do, but we agree on Clive, Heywood Wakefield furniture, the color green, coffee, Mission Of Burma, Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings (although only one of us kissed a Dap-King a gazillion years ago, and it wasn’t me), red wine and the joy of living in Brooklyn.

Woo. And hoo.

Last night, the Super-Smart Lawyer came over for a bland dinner (my fault) and a blander version of Beau Brummell, starring James Purefoy (BBC’s fault). Man, it was dull.

But the S-S L brought over a kicking bottle of Riesling, and we always have a good time hanging out, so it was fun night, at least. And although doing creative writing has been hard, I plotted out the rest of my current chapter while running. That way I could focus on something other than ‘when is this going to stop, how long do I have to go, why is everyone faster than me?‘

And if I can just find time to write inbetween planning house renovation, housecleaning, food prep, food shopping, laundry, the freelance job, hanging with the Son, exercising, getting my hair cut (today!), transcribing the Hard-Working Spouse’s freelance interviews, spending some time with the H-W S when he’s not H-Wing, and of course blog-hopping, the occasional necessary nap and talking on the phone to friends, it’d be grand.

Whine, whine. Aren’t you happy I’m not posting as much as I usually do? Honestly, inside my head it’s a constant rotating list of things I haven’t done/things I should do/things I got finished.

Megan

Okay, so my big night out was going over to the Super-Smart Lawyer’s house and watching Crank, starring Jason Statham. This, my friends, was the problem with the movie:

There was none of this. He kept his shirt on almost the entire movie, with the exception of about a minute when he’s being worked on by a doctor. Um, Jason? No offense, dude, but your selling point is what’s below your clavicle. Not that scowly-mean look you get when you’re concentrating, or doing your girlfriend in public, not your scruffy five o’clock shadow, not even your legs underneath a hospital gown.

IT’S YOUR CHEST, JASON. GET USED TO IT. AND SHOW IT TO ME, DAMMIT!

That’s it for now. More on Monday.

Megan