My thing is bigger than his thing ... and other inane ramblings

It seems I've been a blog slacker lately (does that make me a blocker?).  This is my attempt to make up for it by stringing a few completely unrelated thoughts together in one post.  It's also quite late so apologies in advance for any real or perceived incoherence or nonsense above the norm.

My thing is bigger than his thing ...
When my husband came home last evening, we did our usual end of day round up.  You know, the usual married protocol -- how was your day and so forth.  In the course of the debriefing, my husband said, "My thing is bigger than his thing."  I ask you ... How often in the course of a workday can you say something like that, barring the porn industry?  It really cracked me up, but maybe you had to be there.

I feel British, oh so British ...
This is going to sound strange since I'm from Maryland and have never even been to England (yet), but I've been feeling rather British lately, so to speak.  It seems I've been somewhat immersed.  I've been reading Marian Keyes' Angels, which is steeped in across-the-pond vernacular.  Yes I know she's Irish not British, but they do have similar jargon so spot me on this one.  It also seems many of the people I converse with about books on forums are British.  Additionally, one of the characters in the novel I am working on is British, so I've been doing a little bit of Brit researh.  Consequently, words like bugger and slogging and bum have been popping into my vocabulary -- not just in my writing or even things I say but in my thoughts.  Weird.  I kind of hope they bugger off lest I come across as some British wannabe fruitcake!

It seems I may have a direct line to God ...
As I was standing in my kitchen, looking out the window at the buckets of snow falling down last weekend, it occurred to me that this could be my fault.  Right there, hanging on the inside of my ice-caked window is a lovely little heart-shaped suncatcher type thing with a snowman on it - a remnant from the Christmas decorations that came down ages ago.  In lovely white lettering it reads LET IT SNOW above the snowman.  I have also been known to say that if it's going to be cold, I'd just as soon have snow.  I think God must have been paying attention because we've got another 10-20" of the white stuff pounding us again, with even more in the not-so-distant forecast.  Heretoforth I shall scratch out the words on my suncatcher and replace them with PLEASE PUBLISH REUNION.  Think it will work?

And in other news ...
For those even half interested in the latest goings on of my publishing woes, here is a tidbit of good news.  An agent (a reputable one even!) has requested additional material beyond my initial query for Reunion.  This may mean that I am two steps away from rejection instead of just one this time around, but I will remain optimistic for now.  Too soon to find out if Bradley Cooper is available to play Kyle in the film adaptation?? ;)

Size Does Matter

Hey, hey, get your mind out of the gutter!  I'm talking about clothing and latex gloves here.  First let me state the obvious.  One size does not fit all.  Such a concept, much less size category, is purely ridiculous and should not even exist.  Name one clothing item where one size can truly fit all.  You can't do it.  I'm sure of it.  Heck, one individual size (like 3 or 4 or 6 etc.) does not even always fit one single person!

So I was cleaning the bathroom last night with my "size small" lined, anti-microbial, long toilet-water-will-never-touch-me scrubby gloves and my fingers kept slipping out of the finger sleeves.  Annoying!  And that's when it occurred to me that designers of various clothing items are either deformed, narrow-minded, or just plain old garden variety stupid ... or maybe all of the above.  We have size zero clothing now.  Incidentally, a friend recently said to me that zero isn't even a size and she had a point.  I mean, zero is nothing by definition, but I digress.  So we have size zero jeans, dresses, etc.  What are these women wearing on their hands?  Do these teeny tiny women have gigantic hands on the ends of their perfectly toned arms?  How is it that some items are designed for the smaller crowd and others are not?  I may not be a size zero, but I am petite, so I have small hands.  Why oh why hath the clothing and accessory designers forsaken me?  And why can't everyone get together on some uniform size measurements?  Which brings up another age-old issue ...

Yes, it's been said millions of times before, no doubt, but here it is again.  How is it that men come in a wide variety of sizes but women's shapes can be pared down into a small handful of proportions?  Are they kidding me?!  The exact opposite seems more true.  I mean, let's face it, even the fattest guy you know probably has a small butt.  All that gut action on men mushrooms over their pants, not inside them.  And what man complains of thunder thighs?  Seriously.  Yet they get precise (well, as precise as clothing designers can seem to get) waist and inseam measurements while women get a single size that's supposed to fit the tall and the small and every variation among them.  Ludicrous!  Have you ever tried to squeeze a watermelon into a paper towel tube?  Could get tricky, no?    Sadly, the plight of the curvy female body goes largely unheard.  Of course, that doesn't mean we can't keep screaming.