I Spy

Okay, lately I have been thinking blogging is a very narcissistic way of talking about yourself. I did this or that, I went here or there, I feel this, etc. Yet I keep doing it. I wanted blog about myself and my woes and have a virtual pity party, but something stopped me. I would like to think it was good sense, but I would be lying. It is this picture I pulled of Alice and the Duchess. I picked it because I liked the crying baby, because well, I kind of felt like a whining and whimpering baby. But as I started clicking away on the computer I looked up and thinking as a pure Freudian noticed the salt shaker in the cooks hand. Is it my over-sexed imagination or does that look like a phallus reminiscent of Steely Dan (not the rock band, but shall we say the device from Naked Lunch by Billy Burroughs)? And then I noticed the strange whirls on the Duchess' red dress. I thought, "Now we know why the...cat, yes cat, is grinning." Whoa, this is what happens with the over educated when they have too much time on there hands. I should just stick to blogs about knitting.