Hi, friends and readers:
Each morning, after my three-mile walk on the beach and my swim in the Gulf, I bathe under our outdoor shower, on our fenced-in patio. It feels so good to get naked under the open sky; I’m not sure why. There’s something about feeling sunshine and fresh air on your skin that’s . . . liberating.
In Europe, nudity’s not a big deal. In Berlin, for instance, there’s a section of the Tiergarten, a huge public park, where gay men sun themselves naked on blankets. It’s an area jokingly nicknamed the tunten wiese, or “faggots meadow.” Nobody cares about seeing all these gay men in their birthday suits. And that’s how it should be, in my book anyway. I don’t know why Americans are so modest about their bodies in the first place. I guess it’s our Pilgrim heritage.
I’ve just finished my writing for the day, and now it’s time to relax with a cup a coffee. My boyfriend and I like to do the daily L. A. Times crossword puzzle when he’s home in the morning, so that’s how we’ll spend the next half hour, before we prepare lunch.
I have an appointment in town this afternoon, and then I’ll visit a good friend who’s convalescing in a nursing home. He was my roommate during my law school days, and I don’t like having him lying around by himself all day.
Have a wonderful Tuesday, friends.
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