The Question is Always the Same

I like being a nudist. Actually, I'm even proud of it.

I like the attention I occasionally get when I wear one of my many Nudestock t-shirts. Someone will look at it with their head cocked, and ask, "Wait--what's that say?...-Nudestock?!" immediately followed by a "realization washing over their faces. I look at it like it's sort of a form of bravery. Most people I talk to would never think about spending their day wearing nothing but some sort of foot protection or a hat of some kind, let along advertise it. Their responses are numerous, but most of them fall in the same general camp, and ask the same question:

"Why would you want to see [insert colorful adjective here] people naked?"

Their question might have any number of descriptors in the blank, like old, fat, saggy, or whatever, but the statement or question is almost always the same from the uninformed textile majority. It's both funny and sad at the same time. Honestly, do people really think that's the only reason someone would possibly go to a nudist park? To see people? I'd be lying if I said I didn't look--I do, but just like I would do with clothed people. To those who think being a lookie-loo is the reason to visit a nudist part or event I say, "The chances of you seeing amazing works of human art in the form of model-quality women or finely-chiseled, muscular men with abs of steel are very slim. The people at our local nudist park and others are just plain ol' ordinary people with plain ol' ordinary bodies."

Being naked is the perfect scenario! Relax and enjoy yourself because you're with regular people that enjoy regular things... just wearing no clothing!

Back to The Question: My response is always the same when someone asks me:

"I don't go to see naked--I go to be naked."

When I'm with no clothes I am in my element. I'm aware of my nakedness, but in a good way. I can't help but notice the breezes, the warmth of the sun, or the cool air on a cloudy day. Even a quick dare of dunking in a cold stream or doing snow angels in the buff--those types of sensory input make me feel more alive and connected with the world around me. When I'm bare I want to be outdoors. I want to be active. I want to experience everything I've already experienced or are used to, but in a whole new way. Ask a nudist and they'll tell you--things are more fun when they're done naked!

Mirrors, Mirrors, Everywhere...

...Seek them out and use them if you dare!

Everybody loves selfies, right? They're a lot of fun but they can be so boring! Instead of the usual "here I am" shot, how about throwing a little extra twist into them to make them a little bit more fun?

The first one is me and Brenda trying our creativity in the kitchen one day. While it's easy getting a plain old reflection in something, it depends a lot on what that "something" is. Try the back of a spoon sometime if you think they're all easy! The hardest part with any of the creative mirror shots is not allowing your phone to be the star while it's in front of you, taking your picture.

The next two were taken out in my shop. Pick any day in between spring and fall and there's a good chance I'm out there just wearing flip-flops, and because it's heated, sometimes even in winter!  It's my favorite way to putter. Brenda wanders out and joins me from time to time when she's in-between duties.

Being nakey in the shop makes for a fun work environment, but you have to exercise caution!

Fortuitous Funny

Here's a small series from Zits, one of my favorite comics. It's kind of unusual to find a running series (though a short one) when it comes to addressing nudity in the comics. It seems like topical humor usually ends up in the type of comic that resides in a single pane.

When something as profound as roaming the house naked turns traumatic, it's good to have the support of your best friend, even if he does appear unannounced and therefore becomes a contributor...

Naturist or Nudist? Who Cares!

I am the kind of person that will almost always shy away from confrontation. I hate arguments. Theoretically, if I encountered one group of naked people that started shouting, "I'm a nudist!" and started waving their nudist signs, and another group stood together exclaiming, "I'm a naturist!" and waving their signs I would just sigh and look the other way. No big deal to me... naked is naked.

Dictionary.com has two definitions for naturist, the second of which is "nudist." Does that mean that naturism is a higher form of being naked than nudism?

    Naturist:

• A person who appreciates the beauty and benefits of nature.
• A nudist.

    Nudism:

• The practice of going nude, especially in places that allow sexually mixed groups, in the belief that such practice benefits health.

Based on those descriptions, one would conclude that:

• Naturists are nudists with less flexibility
• Nudists are like naturists, but may be more receptive to fun

So why choose? As far as I'm concerned, if you're naked and you're happy about it, you're on the right track!

   

More Fun With Yours Truly

I haven't posted anything of my own in a while. Brenda suggested I put up this picture of me leaning against the doorway, stating that it's one of her favorites. I don't remember shit about the picture other than being stopped on my way into the bathroom by my phone when she snapped me.

Below is another of the "speed videos" that I love. Actually, I believe it's the only one I have other than the one I already posted so I guess it's time I make some more. They are pretty fun to watch aren't they! I don't remember if the settings are the same as the one I posted already, but I think I was using one shot per half second as my increment setting. I used an app called OSnap! Pro that runs on either the phone or the iPad. It's a good app, but I think they could make the interface easier to use. At least the results are great. It doesn't matter much now though, because I think the feature is built-in to the phones and ipads now.

Vintage Fun

Through all my digging and web surfing in search of content I've come across some pretty interesting items. There's enough variety out there that you can just about pick a topic and add the word "nude" to it, and the results you get back will be pretty varied. Some of them are just plain fun!

This picture for example. I was torn--what caught my eye first? The nude lady laughing while she sips her coffee in an elegant manner? The nude man mowing the lawn? The fact that he's looking backward at something? You decide. I just love the shot:

Then there's this one. First of all, the ladies are obviously nudists. I mean, look how comfortable they are! Notice that cool bonnet the one on the left is wearing! Look at those cool-looking state-of-the-art wash machines! I just love it.

This next one is just plain ol' horsing around fun. I suppose they were tasked with outfitting the local restrooms with paper at whatever nudist facility they are visiting. Whatever the case, it's a fun shot. No surprise really, because everyone knows how much fun being naked is! Well, except non-nudists...

Bringing Nudism to Marriage

When I was married to my second wife, my nude life was thrown a bit of a curve ball. I was very into being naked as often as possible while I was living at my apartment which I enjoyed thoroughly. When we first got together she was interested and intrigued with my being a nudist. Maybe it was the newness of it that she found entertaining. Anyway, she did try it herself from time to time. She enjoyed it several times when she visited my place, likely because it was a haven away from her home where she still had a adult teenage son living at home. She even visited Nudestock with me one year, disrobing in steps like many newbies do. After an hour or so she was completely nude, and I remember her exclaiming, "Yeah, I could do this every year." Well, that notion was short-lived. As the marriage wore on, the nudity on her part began to shrivel, finally coming to a stop. She even started wearing a swimsuit in the hot tub again.

After we were married I was welcomed into the house she already owned, but I never really felt at home there. My moving in had too many "we'll make some room for you" situations, creating an atmosphere of being a room renter. I was never really given free reign to do anything on my own. The house had a great fenced back yard, and her property butted up against an open area that was home to giant towers holding electric power lines . I saw lots of possibilities for sun there, but as a man that loves his privacy and freedom, I had issues from time to time with the proximity of other family members. Two of her sons and their families lived a few houses up the street, and her daughter and her husband lived almost directly across from us. When I wanted to "catch some rays" in the back yard I had to be wary of who was there, whether her teenage son was up or not (he worked odd hours), and that sort of thing. One time I remember lying out there sunning for an hour or so, and I had just finished and gone inside to put shorts back on. When I went back out to the yard, imagine my surprise when one of her sons from up the street came walking into the back yard from the power lines area with his little boy. WTF? What if they had arrived only 5 minutes earlier? I totally applaud someone having a tight-knit, loving family, but they need to understand that when mom remarries, an additional person lives there now. That means a little respect for privacy and and knocking before opening the door and coming into the house automatically. That includes back yards. She had been a single mom for a good 15 years or so, and her family struggled with my "intrusion" if you will. Several close calls like that prompted me to create this sign to hang on the driveway gate:

In retrospect, the marriage was doomed from the start for religious reasons, but that's another story I won't get into here. I would like to say we had a lot of great times and experiences. After all, people don't get married without something special being there, right? After five years I decided we were on a road to nowhere and said I wanted out. Yes, I was the bad guy, but I felt it had to be done.

I ended up finding a decent little two bedroom duplex for cheap. It was near enough to work that I didn't need to use a freeway at all. It was an older place with single pane windows, but it had a garage, and with my Harley and all my stuff I needed that. I was fortunate that it had a back yard was actually fairly well secluded. Even so, I still had to exercise caution depending on where I was. In addition to the attached garage that separated the two units, I also had a storage shed with lights and outlets out back. That housed my radial arm saw and some other things, so it was a workshop of sorts. During the summer months I would do all my work out there naked, disrobing as soon as I got out there. It was a little tedious having to put my shorts back on every time I went outside the shed, but I lived with it. When the surrounding underbrush was in full swing in spring and summer I would occasionally venture out into the back yard without getting dressed, but I only did that when I felt like I was up for a naughty challenge.

My Love of Vintage

I love old things. I have always felt a kinship to old things--even before I was old. Old things are more visually interesting, made with more quality, and are simpler. I'm always on the lookout for old nudist magazines, but the trick is not to pay exorbitant prices that dealers want. I keep an eye out on eBay from time to time, and will buy when I like what I see.

I just got a 3-pack of oldies this week, two of which are old nudist magazines from 1946. The other is an "art" book from 1930, filled with pictures from the renowned Edwin Bower Hesser. That one went in my display cabinet to spend time with my antique cameras and the like. Here's a shot from the eBay ad over on the upper right:

Here are the two magazines I just bought, followed by the others I currently own. It's not many, but they all have interesting stuff in them!

Taylor Camp: A Slice of Time

My previous marriage gave me ties to the beautiful island of Kauai during its 5-year run. Her parents lived there where her dad--being Hawaiian--was able to buy property in a native-only town. Visitors to the island routinely drove past their town on the way to sights like the Kilauea lighthouse, or still farther up the highway to the beautiful inlet town of Hanalei. Not far past that the road dead-ended at a popular beach spot. I was able to visit Kauai a few times, and I had been up that highway at least twice every time I had visited. I knew it pretty well.

Imagine my surprise when I found out that a the end of the highway used to be home to a group of people on property owned by one Howard Taylor. You may have heard of his sister, Elizabeth. Apparently the actress' brother donated it out of frustration with the local government. The property turned into a haven for freedom-seekers, hippies, and other earth-children of the era. If I had only known--I might have poked around there when I visiting!

Anyway, this is what gave it away for me recently. I saw this map and said, "Hey, I know that place! I've actually been in the Blue Room!

I have to admit, this whole story had me seduced in many ways. I totally love the island of Kauai, and I also felt a certain admiration for the hippies back then. I was at the tail end of the Woodstock generation. I wanted to be loose and free, but I was still a tad young, plus I was raised with a level of discipline that made me too chickenshit to leave and wander the world without a support network. I found that support when I ended up joining the Air Force for 6 years. Talk about polar opposites!

There are a lot of articles on the web about Taylor Camp, but I love the abundance of stellar black and white shots in this one:

Paradise Lost: The Hippie Refugee Camp

and here's a link to the site that produced the film:

The Edge of Paradise

Taylor Camp stood for eight years, being finally knocked down and burned by the local government in 1977. If you ever visit the north side of Kauai be sure to visit the area. When you do, let your mind wander to a point in the past when, for a select few, life was simple and clothing was optional.

Fortuitous Funny

I can't be expected to only post funny shit on Fridays, right? I also can't expect to post a funny on every Friday can I? There just aren't that many funnies about nudists, nudism, and nakedness that fit my style of humor. For that reason I've decided that I will name those sorts of posts as I have named this one: Fortuitous Funny. Enjoy.

This is how it all begins... What can we do to change it? Baby steps!

Wandering Naked in the Forest

One July several years ago my wife received an invite to stay a couple weeks with one of her long-time friends. Their family had recently moved over to eastern side of Washington, about 6 hours away. She had kids that my daughter liked to play with too, so the invite was for the both of them. I took this as an solo opportunity. Two weeks!? Nakey time!

I didn't know where to go, nor did I really have any idea exactly what I wanted to do. I was just restless and the nudist side of me was rearing its head. I grabbed a few things, threw them into the car, and headed toward the mountains. I drove up and down a few forestry service roads, checking for the right amount of guaranteed solitude. When I saw a private road with a big yellow gate belonging to a logging company (click here to go directly to the live location on Google maps), I decided that looked promising. After all, the gate was locked, who was going to bother me? There was lots of room to park and not worry about my car being in anyone's way. After parking and stashing my wallet in the trunk, I got out and locked up, walking around the gate.

No, it's not me

I was a little nervous about my being there, mainly because I was going be traipsing around naked in the woods on someone else's property! I continued, looking behind me as I went checking to see when I was out of sight of the highway. I was hoping for find a trail or path to follow instead of just walking down the dirt road and possibly being discovered. I was just a little ways up the road when I saw a trail and turned off to the left. That was my cue to disrobe. All I was wearing was elastic-top shorts and boat shoes, so I there wasn't much to it. I rolled them tightly into a roll with my car keys still tucked snugly inside a front pocket for safety. At this point I had already swatted away a couple of cobwebs that had draped across my face, so I decided a walking stick was in order. When I came across some dead branches below a tree I found one that was just right for a walking stick, so I peeled all the loose bark off of it. I developed an up-and-down sweeping rhythm with my stick, swiping at cobwebs that threatened to wrap themselves around my face.

After a while of walking and ducking around everything on the overgrown trail I came out into an open meadow in full sun. I stopped and admired the profusion of colors from the green and gold grasses to the white, purple, and yellow wildflowers. White butterflies darted around, playing tag in the warm breeze. I couldn't imagine a more perfect day. It was probably 85 degrees, the wind was blowing nicely, and I was naked! Hearing the wind blow through the cottonwood trees and the occasional bird chirping was looking more and more like heaven all the time. I craned my ears and could just hear a river somewhere in the distance.

As I wandered, the occasional strong breezes would blow through the trees, turning their leaves different shades as they were blown upward. I stopped and stood with my eyes closed, feeling the breeze tickling the hairs all over my body. Just when it would get quiet another sudden strong gust of wind would blow over me, again making trees rustle loudly. I drank it all in. There was an open area covered with hard-packed, light green moss--almost like a natural carpet. At one point I tripped over a tough, small vine on the ground, and when I bent to investigate the cause I found the whole area dotted with wild strawberries! I carefully plucked one from its vine and popped it into my mouth. Mmm... so sweet, but so tiny. I decided to be more careful with my stepping, those little vines were like little wires that would trip you if you're not careful. They were also a little stickery.

I'm kind of a "Nervous Nellie" sometimes, and this was no exception. What if something happened to me while I was out here? What if someone spots me? Will the logging company care that I'm here? I wonder if there are bears around here?

I started towards the tall cottonwood trees that were rustling so loudly. Though this part of the state is thick with evergreen trees, they don't make nearly as much wind noise as the cottonwoods do. The sound of rushing water became a bit louder as I went, and the width of the trail became a little tighter. I batted more cobwebs away. The early afternoon sun was getting warmer, and I got closer to the cottonwood trees, the sound of the rushing water grew slightly louder. Moving carefully to avoid getting scratches, I wound my way through the bushes and trees, ducking under branches, stepping through small openings, and other minor obstacles. Some areas I walked through were soft and sandy like a beach, and I kicked my shoes off and wiggled my bare toes around in it, smiling to myself. Nearby were areas that were packed sand with light green moss growing around embedded rocks, probably created from prior water levels, that almost gave it a cobblestone effect. I still wasn't quite sure how to get to the river, but because I could hear it plainly I just kept working towards the sound. It seemed like anywhere I looked I found dense growth in blocking me.

Finally, I could see the rushing water through the trees! I made my way along the undergrowth until I was able to find a suitable spot that’s thin enough to squeeze through without too much trouble. When I did I found myself at the edge of a wide, rocky beach with the fast moving river about 30 feet away. On the far side was a steep bank with thick forest above it, and I could see a road up there running along the river. That made me a little apprehensive. I had gotten very used to walking through the forest and underbrush with no clothes on, but this was different--I would be out in the open! I studied the area for a while, but never saw any traffic or sign of anyone. Then it occurred to me it was likely part of the same road that led to the gate I parked at, which meant it was likely forestry or logging use only. I relaxed a little and stepped out onto the wide open sun-blasted expanse of river rocks.

Most of the rocks were basketball sized or smaller, and the sheer volume of them suggested that the river was usually much wider than it was during these dry summer months. I decided I would like to get my feet wet, but the murky, fast-moving river didn't look too inviting. The silt suspended in the water had turned it a gray color, but if you scooped some up in your hands it looked nice and clear. I kicked off my shoes and placed them nearby, placing my shorts on top of them. I have always loved walking on smooth river rocks barefoot, and today was no exception. Being barefoot enhanced the nakedness; making it total and somehow more natural. I put my feet into the icy snow-melt river, carefully holding myself steady with my hands. Wow, that's cold! I jumped back out of the water and decided to go up the river and explore. Nobody was likely to bother my shoes and shorts if I left them there, so off I went. Let me tell you, I felt like naughty kid again out there in the open, dancing naked from rock to rock in the hot, summer sun. It was like I was the last human on earth. As I worked my way upstream the rocky beach got narrower and narrower, finally ending altogether at a bend in the river. The undergrowth and riverbank were both too severe there, so I had no choice but to turn and head back. My feet were used to the rocks now at least.

On the way back a small pool of water caught my interest near the riverbank. It looked like tributary had been formed when the river started shrinking in the warmer months, finally drying up enough that it created a pond isolated from the rest of the river. It looked brownish and barely moving--completely unremarkable on any other day. This was no ordinary day though--this was the summer day I was naked, exploring in the forest! I dipped a foot into the dark water to test the temperature. It was so warm! I just had to go in. I waded into the deepest part. It felt like a hot spring! I wasn't quite prepared to have it feel that interesting. I slowly sat down--uncaring what the water looked like. After all, there was a river with clean (but very cold!) water just a few feet away! It wasn't very clear and it had a little mud on the bottom, and it appeared to vary from inches deep in spots to almost 3 feet deep in the deepest part. As I sat down as the water came up to my chest. I sat there for about 10 minutes or so, my mind shuffling crazily with all the sensory input that I had sprung on it in just a couple of hours. When I got out I went to the cold, fast moving river and waded out quickly to a deeper spot near the edge and splashed myself clean. Whew, that was cold! I climbed carefully back out of the rushing water as quickly as I could, and stood shivering. My skin was alive from everything I had subjected it to, and now I was enjoying the feeling all the little hairs on my body were making as they popped free from being pasted to my skin as I dried. I made my way back to where I started, retrieved my shorts, and put my shoes back on.

I was now back where I first found the river. There was no real path or safe passage along the water from there, so I had to go back inland to work my way downriver. At least there was no chance of getting lost with the sound of the river nearby. The undergrowth was pretty thick in this area, and the walking stick definitely came in handy. I was separated from the river by a row of tall cottonwood trees on my left, and I was in an open, sandy area, punctuated with round river rocks and Scotch broom. The strong, warm wind continued to expose the light green undersides of the cottonwood trees as their leaves were blown upward. To their right, the thick evergreens went as far as the eye could see. Being naked is a most pleasant way to hike!

The open area I was walking in was gradually tapering off as I got closer to the bridge, and a short distance farther I was again reunited with the river. As I neared the bridge, the ground started sloping sharply upward, leading up to the road surface above. While I could have gone along the water's edge instead of up and over, the vegetation was too dark and overgrown. I also feared bug bites, which I had been able to avoid so far. I'd rather go up or down a nice, clear hillside than through unknown, thick underbrush on level ground. The loose gravel path was about 30 feet up to the road surface, but I made it without incident. Naked wandering can be a delicate thing sometimes as some of us know. Going down the other side was a little trickier, but again, I made it without any trouble. Down the other side of the elevated roadway was a small camping area that looked interesting. It was level and fairly open, even for its small size, and was mostly overgrown grass punctuated with patches of moss. There were remnants of past campfires, but it looked like it had been a long time since anyone had last camped at this spot. Maybe next time.

For now I was tired, thirsty, and more than happy about the day as it had transpired, as it had been a very special day. I walked down the road toward my car, completely comfortable with my nakedness. When I got to the point where my car was just around a final curve and the state highway was, I stopped. That was as far as I could safely go in my skin. I considered listening for traffic and walking all the way to my parked car naked, but I chickened out. I unrolled my shorts to put them back on, and having been wrapped into a tight ball and carried in my sweaty hands for a few hours, they were wrinkled beyond belief. When I shook them out and put them on they felt completely alien to me. After a day of wandering around the forest wearing nothing but boat shoes, I didn't like the sudden change in attire. I reluctantly approached my car and opened the door. The inside of the car was stifling hot from sitting there all afternoon, so I rolled the windows down to let the hot air out of the car. After relaxing and enjoying a beer from the cooler in my trunk, I pulled out onto the highway and headed home.

I vowed to return, and return I did--at least 3 more times over the years past. After that first time I started carrying a shaving bag. My shorts, my keys, and a couple beers fit in it, and there was no chance of losing anything if it was zipped into the bag securely. Only one other time did anyone go with me out to that area, and she was the one that took this picture I shared in my first blog post:

Throwback Thursday

I love so many things vintage, but one of my favorite old things are nudist magazines. Of all I own or have seen, this is my favorite cover. I just love it! Those shades and brown skin just scream summer.

As I mentioned, I have several old nudist magazines. The plan is to post bits and pieces of them as time goes on.

The Signs were There

I've done plenty of things in the course of my life that were counter to my nudist tendencies. For example, wearing tighty-whities. I wore them for decades! I guess I just followed my dad's example because he was my male role model. He wore those types of shorts, so all three of us boys in the family did too. When we were little, we slept in pajamas (matching of course), all made by mom every year for Christmas. I don't think we wore just pajamas either--I'm sure our tighty-whities were underneath. I remember getting into bed and removing my bottoms lots and lots of times. When I became a little older the jammies stopped and I wore just the tighty-whities. Same deal though--I'd get under the covers and off they came. I think I was admonished at least once for it by one of my parents (although I'm not sure how they even knew). I don't know why, maybe it was comfort, maybe it was just adolescent fondling. Either way, I have apparently had a fondness for, or tendency toward sleeping nude a long time before I recognized it. A long time. Oddly enough, it was only a few years ago now that I finally switched out of--and away from--those binding little tighty-whities. I wonder why it took so long! I'm so embarrassed.

Like anyone's life, mine has had a lot of chapters. Through some (more like many) of those chapters I was not in complete control of my life's decisions. Like the military for instance. When I was in the Air Force, the last thing I wanted was to be surprised in the middle of the night by some fucking fire drill or something, and find myself standing there naked, trying to blink the sleep away. The whole idea of being suddenly thrust into the harsh military way of life was hard enough without the people around me razzing me because I slept naked. Little by little, I sort of pushed it out of my mind for a long time.

As an adult out on my own, I became aware of the fact that I could do anything I wanted, and one of those things was sleeping naked. It was so nice to not have to worry about covering my ass before crawling out of bed to pee. Now I could wander the whole house that way any time I wanted to! It felt different than before when I was younger. It felt more naughty when I was younger, but not nearly as much any more.

There were some places I've lived that afforded more freedom than others. At one point in my adult life I rented a teeny house, and it had a matching teeny garage that someone had attached to the house at some point. It also had a fenced back yard with quite a few smallish trees around the perimeter. While it was by no means private, it was private enough that I was able to wander around out there after dark on nights without too much moon. I know, I know--that's not much, but during the summer months it was nice to have that as an option. One place I lived in had an indoor privacy thing going on during winter that was in my favor. The place had single-pane windows on it, so I put thick, translucent plastic over the windows. I had to put them on the inside with thumbtacks because the outside of the whole complex of duplexes were made from stucco. What I liked about those "cataract" window coverings was that I could leave all my curtains wide open throughout the house to let maximum light in, all the while spending as much time as I could while nude. Even the slider in the dining room was covered. I could stand right up near the window and nobody could see me. Being nude in summer is always easier, but that setup was pretty cool for a winter thing!

It sure is nice to finally live with no restrictions. Why did it take so long?

Friday Funny

Funny things aren't always just comics and jokes you know... sometimes they're just "WTF" moments like this one, taken from the pages of an old nudist magazine.

Throwback Thursday?

When I first had the idea or notion to create this blog I asked myself, "Why?" I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with it, or where I hoped it would carry me. Being a nudist, I had several interests I considered sharing, and one of them is vintage nudism. I have a few old nudism magazines myself, and I wanted to share the little tidbits there are on those pages. The old ads, the stories, the pictures--all are interesting to me. These are one of the things I wanted to share.

What if I started posting a "Throwback Thursday" every week? One of my hobbies is photography, and my favorite type of photography is black & white. What better way to combine my interests than vintage nudism black & white pictures?

As with all picture postings in blogs, click them for full-size.

Scenes from the Shop

I like my shop. It's big, it's heated, and it's got everything I need in it. I love to work naked when I'm out there if the temps are in my favor. I don't like that I have to walk to the shop dressed before I can disrobe, but that may change soon. We have plans.

I shot a few little videos last summer when I was out there working. Here's one of them. Sparks? Who cares about sparks!

Friday Funny

The weekly recap of nudist activity around our household:

It's been a very snowy week around here, and I missed a few days of work because of it. I brought my work laptop home so I could work from home (naked of course), but it didn't quite work out. Two hours into my work session I ran out of battery because I forgot the power supply and had to shut it down. The nudity ended an hour or so after that when I got chilled. Oh well. I suggested more than once that we should go out and plop down in the snow (naked of course) for snow angels, but Brenda nixed that idea. We play Wii bowling a lot, and I did that a few times in the nude this week. Winter tends to curtail nudist activities, but at least we're nearing spring.

Happy Friday!

Winter Shut-ins

These are trying times for nudists clamoring to get out of the house. Last night dumped about 10 inches of snow on us, so we’re a long way from enjoying any outside activities in the nude! I suggested we go out and do snow angels this morning, but Brenda wasn’t too keen on that idea. She keeps reminding me that, although it’s very serene and beautiful to look at, underneath there are probably dog turds just waiting to be discovered. We are also without our cable internet (and related TV of course), so there’s a more enhanced feeling of isolation and relaxation with the snowfall than there might usually be.

Instead, I spent some time editing some small movies I had on my phone. Two of them are stop-action videos, and they are my favorite. Especially the one I’m posting here. It’s the worst resolution of all I have because it was captured on my old iPad 3. I was gearing up to move from my shabby little rental duplex to the house I had just bought a couple years ago, and decided to have some fun and record myself emptying a cupboard. I’m glad I did. It’s kinda fun to watch!

Friday Funny

Happy Friday! Keep smiling!

My First Clothing Optional Abode

After I left my first marriage in 2005, I moved into an apartment that was not too far away (my teenage daughter was still at living there at home with her mother.) It was a good-sized place 1200 sq ft, with two floors, two bedrooms, and a single-car garage attached through the kitchen.

It was at this place I was able to really embrace nudity.

I spent as much time as I possibly could wearing no clothes. I loved it! It was a place with lots of space to wander around, and I was enjoying it to the fullest. My daily routine started from sleeping nude, and when I woke I made my coffee, my lunch, then sat around drinking coffee and blogging--all while bare. It was with great reluctance that I'd have to get dressed to go to work. Hell, I didn't want to get dressed for any reason. When I came home from work what's the first thing I usually did? Yep, strip the clothes off. I became more of a shut-in because I enjoyed the feeling of freedom so much. It also held a small bit of naughtiness too. It was during this time I became friends with my wood stove.

Yes, my rented apartment had a free-standing wood stove in the living room. Luckily, I was able to get high-quality, thick, solid oak pallets for firewood at work. I would bring home a huge stack of them, and stack them neatly in the garage. Remember when I said I spent every moment I could in the nude? I wasn't lying. I would go out into the garage and would spend time tearing all those pallets apart and cutting them up into stove-sized pieces--all while only wearing shoes of some kind. If I didn't have firewood to burn, I didn't care--I still kept the baseboard heat cranked up nicely. Baseboard heat is more expensive than wood heat of course, but it's really close to wood stove heat. They both heat slowly but thoroughly. My comfort while naked was paramount. The floor in my apartment was actually a poured concrete slab under the carpet, and when it got warm it stayed warm pretty well. The chimney effect also warmed the upstairs even warmer of course, and that was okay by me. That's where my computer was, and I spent a lot of time there.

When I wasn't upstairs on the computer, I was out in the garage working on something. During my time there I did a complete makeover on my Harley, and as much time as possible was spent naked while doing it:

That picture makes the garage look only about 6-feet wide, but that actually wasn't the case. Here's another picture looking the other direction toward the kitchen door. I had a lot of stuff packed into it, but it was usable:

Looks like I was a little behind on the pallet butchery doesn't it? There was a good reason for that. When I took that upper picture it was about 85° outside, and because I lived in a populated area I had only two choices: Get dressed so I could roll the door up and enjoy the breeze, or stay naked and slightly overheated. It was really a tough choice, but bare skin won out that particular day.

I still like to work naked, but I have a lot more space to do it in now. More on that later.

My First Adult Nudist Experience

(I didn't mean "adult" as in nasty... I meant as a grown-up)

I really don't know for sure that this was my first nudist experience. After all, the level of nudism that makes an "experience" varies widely (along with my memory) but here goes:

It was the early in the summer of 1980, and I was getting close to completing my 6-year stint in the Air Force. I shared a small house with a married couple in Spring Lake, North Carolina. I liked to take jaunts every now and then just to get away and let my roommates have the house to themselves. One day I decided I was going to go spend the weekend over on the coast. I had no idea where I would go, but I was pretty sure I could find something that looked good. I was also driving a full-size station wagon, so I could stop and sleep anywhere.

I had never been to the coast of North Carolina before, and I really had no idea what to expect or where to go. A little exploration got me to what seemed to be a good area, but I couldn't actually see the beach because the ocean was blocked by a huge sand levee or dune. It must have been about 25-feet high and went a long way in either direction. The street that paralleled it had lots of little roads about every half-block or so that turned toward and dead-ended at the bottom of the massive dune. It kind of had the look of a suburb with long driveways but no houses. Each of the little sand roads were basically packed sand about a hundred feet long. The whole area was filled with tall grasses that afforded a good degree of privacy. It was one of these "driveways" that I turned into and drove to the bottom of the dune, still unsure of where I was or how close I was to the ocean at this point. Because of the huge wall of sand, you couldn't see it or hear it. I got out of my car and climbed up the sand dune to see where I was, and was pleased to see that I was staring out at the Atlantic ocean! The actual beach on the ocean side of the wall was very flat and boring, and maybe about 100 yards or so to the water's edge. As I looked back and forth, I saw a small number of people here and there in the distance, but none close by. I walked up to the water's edge, noting how clean and uncluttered the sand was. Unlike other beaches I have been to, the area was fairly devoid of seashells--the only ones I saw being those of small scallops.

On my way back to the car, I stopped on top of the dune and surveyed the inland area.  The top of the dune was somewhat flat, so people had obviously walked on it. There was only one house visible, and it was quite a ways away. All the little roads that dead-ended at the dune looked about the same but there were some that had taller grasses than others, so from my vantage point I chose a better spot a little farther up. Besides putting me at a slightly farther distance from the house that was visible, it also afforded me a lot more privacy because the grasses were taller and thicker. I moved the car to the new spot and backed it all the way in, parking it at an angle. That blocked me from anyone that may being going by, as well as allowing me access to the back and right side of the car. At this point I was about 30 or 40 feet from the base of the dune, and had effectively made myself a nice cozy, private area. It was walled off by my car to the west, tall grasses on the sides, and the windbreak dune to the east. My idea of camping was simple: I had my cooler filled with food and drink, a folding lounge chair, and a sleeping bag. My station wagon was a full-size model with a huge amount of space to sleep in the back when you folded everything down. There was a campfire circle there, but no wood to burn, so I didn't worry about it. It was hot anyway--no need for a fire. It was nearing midday and the sun was pretty high so I set up my lounge chair, oiled myself up with suntan lotion, kicked off my flip-flops, and stretched out.

After lying there for a while and half dozing I started to feel a little restless and daring. I unfastened the top button of my already loose-fitting shorts and walked around the area a little, testing how low they rode on my hips. Actually, it was more too see how far I could go and have them actually stay up. Being barefoot enhanced the feeling, making the looser than normal shorts feel like all I had on was a loincloth or something. Feeling more naughty by the minute I decided to walk out to the street. I loved the naughty feeling when they fell down a couple times as I walked. By the time I got to the street I had taken them off and was walking completely naked, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my body. I had never bared myself so completely to the sun and breezes. I had been naked in the sun before, but I had never been anywhere where I could actually walk carefree like this. I was totally into the moment, savoring every sensation of this naughty, new experience. It was amazing! The sun was hot, but the breezes were pretty constant, so I never really got too overheated. Before turning around and heading back to the car I played exhibitionist, enjoying the naughty feeling of being completely naked and standing in the middle of the empty street. I walked back to the car naked and dropped my shorts onto my lounge chair. I wouldn't be needing those any more. I was enjoying the feeling of walking barefoot and naked up and down my driveway road, pausing to linger at the street end as if I was daring someone to catch me bare. After enjoying the slow walking back and forth for a while I was getting more comfortable with the area, but yet somewhat bored at the same time.

Then I was struck with the idea of going naked up the dune.

The more I thought about it the better it sounded.  I guess there was an element of danger that appealed to the exhibitionist in me. I looked around and started inching up the dune, cautiously scanning the area for anyone. After only a few steps I chickened out and went back down. After all, anyone could come down the street or up over the wall and see me right? Occasionally a car would drive down the street, so that was another possibility. I concluded that I wasn't quite ready. I contented myself with lying down naked on the lounge chair for some sun. I pretty much stayed naked as the day wore on, lying in the sun and listening to music. It was such a liberating feeling! I had to alternate between sun and shade (which there wasn't much of) and keep myself covered with suntan lotion to keep my tender areas from getting too much sun. I would also take breaks and go for dips in the ocean to cool off, each time donning shorts of course. I was in heaven. At one point I was lying on my lounge chair when a strong wind came up and totally covered me with sand from head to toe. Luckily, my eyes were closed, but because I was covered in suntan lotion the sand stuck. I was glad my car was closed at the time or it would have probably been filled by flying sand.

When daylight fades, dusk creates a sort of crossover point where someone with tanned skin becomes almost invisible. As the sun waned I found myself getting bolder and more naughty. I checked my naked self out in the car's side mirror, and decided I was only slightly less visible than someone with white shorts on because my midsection hadn't ever gotten much sun before that day. Even though it did have some color from the day's activities it was still pretty visible. I shrugged and decided to go for it anyway-- I was feeling pretty naughty and daring. I inched my way up the dune naked, cautiously looking around as I did so, and when I got to the top I peered over, making sure everything was okay. The beach was empty. I stood up on top of the dune bare to the world! I walked to the water's edge and carefully placed my glasses out of reach of the lapping waves. I remember a feeling of apprehension when I took them off because I'm half blind without them. It was a really weird feeling--one of vulnerability. It was one thing to be out on a flat, empty beach naked, but to do it and not be able to see if anyone came near was oddly unsettling. I put them back on and took another look around. I went in for a quick dip and hurried back to grab my glasses, worried that someone might be coming. "Relax," I told myself, "it was only like 10 seconds ago you took your glasses off." I took a reassuring look around, and again went back to the water, staying a bit longer this time. Why is it that water always seems to feel warmer at dusk? It felt heavenly! That was the first time in my life I had ever gone skinny-dipping, and the experience of that moment is almost as fresh in my mind as the day it happened. When I came out of the water it occurred to me that I had forgotten a towel, so even if somebody had showed up I wouldn't have been able to cover myself anyway. Dripping wet and naked, I made my way back to the dune. It was getting darker now, and if anyone would have come near they probably wouldn't have seen me anyway. Because I walked back to the campsite totally wet, I tried to walk carefully to avoid getting too much sand on me, but as careful as I tried to be I slipped and fell backward on the way down the dune and covered my whole backside with sand.

I found (and still find) that being naked is a hard thing to stop doing--especially when you're doing it outside. Just because the sun went down didn't mean I felt like getting dressed. The temperature was still comfortably warm. The only difference was the increase in bug activity. During the day I never saw an insect at all, but when the sun went down they really came out. I didn't think they were biters but I didn't want to take a chance. I came with my bug repellent. Like applying suntan lotion, being naked and having no clothes to get in the way makes it very easy to slather yourself. I climbed back up and sat on the top of the dune facing the ocean. I sat there for quite a while, getting high and staring at the ocean, the stars and even watched as a small moon rose in the darkening sky. I was in total ecstasy. The sounds of frogs and crickets were in abundance behind me, providing natural symphonies for me to enjoy.

As it neared time to go to bed, I knew one last trip to the water was in order. I had been covered suntan lotion, sand, and later covered with bug repellent. There was no way I was going to get into my sleeping bag that way. The cool thing about the last trip of the night was the fact that it was late and there was zero chance of being caught by anyone, so I strolled totally carefree this time. I remember thinking that it was like I was the last human on earth and it was all mine! The moon was thin, and although not bright, it was enough to see by. l also remember how amazing the stars looked from out there because of the lack of city lights. This time I took a towel, soap, shampoo, and hair brush with me. I had never bathed in an ocean before and may never again, but it was a great experience. The water felt so inviting in the warm night air. I went out first without my glasses and swam around in the dark, then I went back and got my shampoo. Shampoo doesn't suds up very well in salt water, but it got the job done. I went back ashore, put my glasses on, and brushed my hair. I grabbed the soap and went back into the water for a full body soap-down. After toweling off I made my way back and eased into my sleeping bag.

I woke just as the sun was just starting to lighten the sky. I grabbed some weed and a towel and went up to the top of the dune. It was very early so there was nobody on the street side of the wall. There was somebody walking along the water with their dog way off in the distance, but they were way too far away to worry about. I spread my towel out on the sand and sat down. I remember thinking, "It just doesn't get any better than this." There is something magical about sitting there naked and watching the sun peek and slowly rise from the edge of a placid Atlantic ocean.

I stayed until midday on that Sunday, doing much the same as I had the day before. All too soon, it was then time to go home.

Nudism in 1938

I love vintage movies, but I'm not really a fan of the "old-timey" sounding announcer's voice. I guess adding drama to readings was the norm back then.

This movie is something I found on the internet. I don't like that it's so derogatory to large-sized women. The announcer pokes what he (they?) thought was funny back then. It's not funny now. I love that people come in all sizes!

It's interesting to hear the "public" descriptions of nudists in 1938. The movie both makes fun of nudists and applauds them at the same time.

It's fun to watch for the sake of history. How far we've come, and yet--so far to go!

The Naked Office

What would it be like to work in an office where everyone worked in their birthday suit? Would they get less work done? More work? I think it would be awesome, but the logistics would require some thought. Where do you get dressed or undressed? Where do you keep your things if there are no lockers? That sort of thing.

Obviously, not every job is one that could be performed in the nude. The nudist mantra, "Nude when possible, clothed with practical" comes into play. I think it would be awesome to have a job where I could spend all day nude. There are several tasks I do in my day-to-day activities that almost always seem to get me wishing I could do them in the nude. Among them are, painting, mowing the lawn, and washing the car. It just seems to make total sense that if something is more practical to do in the nude it should be a no-brainer. Painting is a good example. It comes right off bare skin, but try to get it out of textiles!


Here's an interesting work nude video:

https://youtu.be/Y4XAJt2lfq0


Or how about this commercial from an Irish skin care company:

https://youtu.be/8mWn80l28sE


I'll bet they had a lot of fun filming this one:

https://youtu.be/FGfDmCJTrx0

Normal?

I’ve had this picture saved on my iPad for a few years now... I guess it’s time I did something with it! (no, I don’t know those people.)

Yeah, it's a funny picture, but it's too bad that so many people actually do think this way about nudists. As far as I'm concerned, the nudists are the normal ones!

Anyway, I don't let it get to me... I'm just sharing the "funny" part:

Weekend Laziness

A fairly typical start to a Sunday, we had ourselves a great breakfast this morning. After we let it settle briefly, we smoked a bowl of weed that we grew last summer, dropped our robes and headed outdoors into the fog-shrouded morning to soak in the hot tub.

We're lucky here in Washington State. As far north as we are, our climate is pretty mild. Our unique geographical features place the greater Seattle/Tacoma area in between two mountain ranges which keeps temps very mild. Even though, it's still cold this time of year. Here in Edgewood it's currently 40° and foggy. Obviously, that limits outside activities for naked people.

That's why we love our hot tub!

It was so nice to sit out there in the total quiet of the morning, watching Junco's munching on a suet block a few feet away. Nary a sound anywhere, it was so peaceful! We sat out there long enough to get sufficiently wrinkled skin on our hands before getting out. Brenda usually does the "towel and dash" when she gets out of the hot tub so she can get into the house as quick as she can. I'm a little slower. I'm usually bordering on overheated when I get out of the hot tub, so after drying myself off I'm still warm, even though it's 40 degrees out. I went back in the house to get some hot tub testing supplies, and did some chemical testing and treating. By the time I was all finished with that, I was still enjoying myself outside, but I could tell it wouldn't be long before I started to get cold.

We're both still nude--I'm blogging, and she is reading. Let's see if we can stay this way all day!

A History of Shenanigans

When I think back, I’ve been in and out of nudism for much of my life. I just didn’t really realize it at the time. If I even recognized being naked as a desire I never acted on it regularly. Instead, I had years of experiences that I would consider “glancing blows.” In other words, an opportunity might present itself for me to bare myself, then afterwards not much of anything for who knows how long. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some guilt during some of those times, too. After all, there was no public sharing of information in those days other than magazines, newspapers, and television. All literature about nudism was grouped together on the same magazine stands as the filth and smut of the same era. It was hidden from mainstream society just like the nudists themselves were. I had no idea how non-mainstream my thoughts were, or how normal or not. For all I knew I was on my way to being a serial rapist or something. Without any Internet who the hell was I going to learn anything from?

Living in Algona as a young boy provided me with many opportunities to take my clothes off outdoors. In the summer, all we boys wore was cutoff shorts and maybe tennis shoes anyway, so when the urge hit, it was easy to bare myself. I can remember times I would be riding the old interurban road (long ago made into a paved legal recreational trail) on my bicycle and I'd stop and take my shorts off and ride a ways, enjoying the feeling of sun on my body. I've always been the type of guy that wanted to be off on my own, and that desire afforded me lots of times when I would just disrobe and flaunt myself to the sun and sky.

Even as an adolescent I didn’t really dwell on trying finding times I could be naked. It still hadn’t become a "hobby" if you will--it was something that just happened at the right time and place. For example, when I was in high school and would stay home sick I would enjoy being the only one home. I reveled in being able to wander naked all over the house in the nude. I never really knew about nudism--I was just being naughty and having fun! It’s not like I tried to stay home sick as often as I could because of it. As an adolescent, my life was going enough changes that probably failed to recognize that I had leanings in the direction of nudism.

Many, many times through adulthood these same types of shenanigans have repeated themselves. I might be driving somewhere and be overcome by the desire to park and wander in the nude. Maybe was still partly naughty, but I think I mostly just enjoyed the feeling of that sunlight warming me, along with the feeling of breezes flowing between my legs. I've often said I was solar-powered after all! Other times I have driven nude when the notion hit me. One time I drove that way from Bakersfield to Sacramento just because I could. I guess there has always been an off/on desire to be nude that never really got a chance to manifest itself until well into adulthood.

But that's all water under the bridge. Here we are.

The First Post!

Hello readers!

It’s a new blog for me. I have several blogs on blogger already, some of which have years of posts in them, but this one is different.

It’s about being naked!

Let me give you a little background on myself: I’m 62 years old, and my wife is 63 years old today. (Happy birthday, Brenda!) We have been together for 2 and a half years, but married only since May 3rd of 2018. This is my third marriage, her fourth. We both attended school together many years ago, from grades K through 6, at which time we went different directions and lost touch. She was the spunky little redhead I loved to chase around on recess and make fun of in class!

Now, here we are--together again decades later. Interestingly enough, we have both realized how much we both enjoy wearing no clothing whenever possible. We are constantly looking for ways or places that we can enjoy the moment “Au Naturale.”

I really don’t know exactly what is going to show up on this blog at this point in time. Our antics? Our hopes and wishes? Anything and everything about nudism or naturism that catches our attention? Maybe a little of everything? I don’t know. Both of us have had too many experiences on social networks (the most recently being MeWe) where the memberships are largely dominated by males with dicks for profile pictures. Almost every post they ever share has the camera centered on their dick. Now, I have nothing against dicks–mine has been a good companion–I just don’t believe that taking a picture of yourself naked once a day with your morning coffee cup is my brand of naturist. Brenda and I are real people living a real life, and we choose to live ours relaxed and bare whenever practical.

Lets see what happens!

Rick