Sunday, Sunday

I was up too early, and immediately thinking about a work project.

This does not bode well.

I did some gaming (trying to get finished with the things) and made one batch of soap.

Now I'm wondering what to do with myself. 

This picture reminds me of the old-school Frederick's Catalog -- before they had real pictures, and mostly had drawings. It's nostalgic. I'd never be able to get away with her shoes but it's a great picture all the same.  I love those old catalogs.  They were probably my first serious foray into art that was sexual.  I saw my first one at a house I babysat at.  That was also the first time I ever saw a full-length "erotic novel" (in quotes, because the storyline was weak, and it was pretty much just sex sex sex) and that, more than anything else, probably influenced my life path at the tender age of 14. I had already learned to masturbate by that age, but the catalogs (and the images they produced in my head) and those "novels" brought a new level to it.  It had purpose.  It had a direction. 

I never looked back.  I still don't.  Thank goodness.