All posts by jenzzz

About jenzzz

Born in London in the 1950's; former United Nations staffer for 3+ decades; now enjoying living but not working.

Come paint my wagon (or saddle!)

Dear Sis,

Just when you think life is getting boring, under the door slips a note from the building management. They want to alert me to the fact that in a few days they will be painting the saddle (threshold to you and me!) of my apartment door and will I please ensure that the door is open or at least accessible for this momentous occasion.

The colour of the paint will be black and no they will not be painting the actual doors – which are taupe (beige?). The threshold is blackish – well its black and white in that it is made of marble. Why anyone would want to paint marble is beyond me but the powers that be obviously know more about saddles than little old me. But I gets to thinking – surely paint on marble will peel fairly quickly especially as I tend to step on it sometimes when entering or exiting my apartment. Not to mention the likely damage from the wheels of a shopping cart or a suitcase.

I seek out the maintenance chappy and he confirms that indeed black paint has been ordered for the thresholds – but “with the approval of the resident”. Aha! So I don’t have to have my lovely threshold blemished by black paint. I strongly voice my negative decision concerning the saddle and trot happily back to my apartment, noticing that mine is actually rather dull and dusty. A good cleaning and spot of polish does the trick and I smugly re-enter my apartment and lock the door.

There is no picture of the threshold for you to peruse – it is just too boring a subject!

Love, etc.


Panic and Guilt

It’s a nice sunny day in New York.  I’m driving back from a visit to my doctor.  Was worried about my heart after suffering shortness of breath and dizziness.  Turns out it might only be asthma brought on by the horrible hay-fever season in this region.  Driving south now on one of my favourite roads:  the Palisades Interstate Parkway – much the worse for wear after the winter; hundreds of pot-holes and craters – some badly patched with tarmac.

The windows are open and I have the music up loud – reggae, live from Jamaica.  There’s activity along the way as the Parks Department has decided it opportune to trim some fallen trees in the large median, probably the casualties of heavy snow during weeks of nasty winter weather.  Pity they are not spending their time resurfacing the road instead.  The little wheels on my Mini Cooper are suffering, but at least the car is small enough to dodge around most of them without sending neighbouring vehicles into the verge.

The State speed limit in New York is 55 mph, as of course everyone knows.  But no one really pays much heed, especially on a Parkway where there is no risk of a stray pedestrian or cyclist.  I keep up with the crowd at about 65 mph, well maybe 68/69 but who’s counting?

It is not exactly deserted even at this mid-morning time of about 11.15am.  There are a good number of cars, but it is not crowded either.  As I said earlier, none of us is obeying the speed limit.  I am flying along with the best of them.

A small Honda 100 feet in front of me has a very large cube-shaped box wedged in its boot with a very flimsy piece of string, can’t even call it rope, holding down the lid of the boot.  But it doesn’t look particularly precarious, and the boot is deep so the box is well positioned.  At least it doesn’t cause me any alarm, even though I am directly behind it.

That 68/69 mph I mentioned?  Well, still doing it.  Quite a large gap in front of me, nothing to the side and the cars behind are keeping a very respectable distance, in view of our speed that is.

Oops, crikey, a police car, facing the wrong direction, but definitely can’t miss me.   Oooh, I see him start up,  Yep, he’s turning.  Into my driving lane now, three cars back.  I have slowed but only by taking my foot off the accelerator.  Never brake, because they will see your brake lights and that spells ‘guilty’ without a doubt.  Oh no, his blue lights are on.  He’s pulling out to overtake the two cars behind me.  Blast.  I think I might have finally blown it.

He’s speeding now in the lane next to me.  Ok.  This is it.  My first ticket – ever!  Here he comes.  I prepare to slow and pull over.  Wait.  Can’t believe it.  He’s passing me.   Who’s he after then?  Aha!  The Honda with the very large cube-shaped box halfway out of its boot.  Well, really.  Should have secured that properly wouldn’t you say?

Thanks Honda driver.  I definitely panicked and was indeed feeling guilty.  Got away scot free.  Feeling smug now!

Oh what a nice sunny day in New York.


Nature’s fury!

The skies have blackened. Frogs are chirping. Birds are making themselves scarce except for one in the old oak tree that is signalling a warning. There is rumbling at a distance but definitely coming closer. There is no actual Fall here in Central Florida – leaves fall whenever the wind picks up, as it is now. The sky looks ominous.

The temperature has dropped about 7 degrees in the last half hour as we had a brief burst of rain then. But this looks more serious. The dusk-to-dawn lights outside the garage have come on and its only 4.50pm.


I am waiting for it to let loose and really give a show of nature at its most impressive. The air has stilled. The Muscovy ducks at the pond are like statues. No birds are tweeting now. Even the frogs are silent.

Here it comes now. Just in time for rush hour. Heavy rain drops fall on the drainpipe extension making a loud metallic click. Lightning to the West of me. The sky is ashy now and the rain is coming down in full force.

Hooray. At last. What a fantastic show!

Feathered Love

I’m sitting at my outside dining table on the pool deck of my house here in Central Florida watching birds feeding on the seeds I put out for them. It is a gazebo-shaped feeder, with perches forming a ring round the outside. The tubular-shaped feeders with tiny perches sticking out perpendicular to the tube are suitable only for the smallest of birds, like sparrows who have no problem at all emptying the feeder in one day. But I particularly wanted to attract Northern Cardinals.

Daily visitors to my yard are one or two pairs of cardinals – never at the same time as they are fiercely territorial – and mourning doves who feed from the ground on fallen seeds. They are way too large to get on the feeder itself.  Grey Catbirds want only the loquats on the trees at the back, favoured also by Cedar Waxwings.  The fruit is now finished so the Waxwings have departed for greener pastures!

Today there are two blue jays. They are always fairly vocal and gregarious while flying in and out of the garden, feeding on the ground or just hopping in and out of the bushes.

blue jay

Recently, one blue jay has begun to cling precariously to the feeder – he is too big to sit in the proper manner on the feeder’s perches. He hangs almost upside down while frantically grabbing as much seed as he can – flapping his wings and hanging on for dear life. He comes to the feeder many times and flies back to the small trees about 15 feet away.

I notice the second blue jay staying in the bushes. I use my binoculars to get a really good view of them and I see the blue jay who has been at the feeder passing seeds from his beak to the other blue jay. They both munch away happily on their seeds.

This is the beauty of Feathered Love.

These feet were made for walking

Suppose someone said to you “I’m going to take you on a three-day weekend, in the sun, soft breezes blowing, not a lot of traffic, transportation laid on, hotel booked, nice company – and you’re going to walk 36 miles”.  What would you do?  Well, I went for it.

This past weekend I joined my walking club on an excursion to South Florida where we walked twice a day for three days, aiming for 10-11K each segment for a possible total of 62K. We managed about 5K less than that due to an emergency we had with a sick passenger who had to be taken off our bus by ambulance. Kudos to Fort Pierce ambulance service and first responders who met us at an exit off the Florida Turnpike to take our sick companion off to hospital where she spent the next five days.

South Florida is a delight in April. I’m not sure I’d say the same thing in the humidity of August! We set off at 7.40am Friday morning from a crazy golf attraction venue just off I-4 in Lake Buena Vista, near Disney World. The management of the golf venue had agreed to allow our vehicles to be left there over the weekend, but instructions had been given not to have them lined up and drawing attention to their being somewhat abandoned for the duration. I left my car at home safely ensconced in its garage and got a friend to drop me at the pick-up location. I felt smug in the knowledge that deluge, tornado or pestilence would not befall my four wheels while I was away!

We started our first walk around 11.45am in Delray Beach; a charming route had been mapped for us and we saw this spectacular Angel Trumpet tree in someone’s front garden.  Trumpet plant, Delray Beach walk

I had carefully packed two pairs of footwear so my hot sneakers from the morning’s walk could air out on the bus while I walked in the second pair during the afternoon. In between times, at lunch and travelling on the bus to the next venue, my feet got some respite in their Skechers sandals. I wasn’t the only one with this degree of forethought: I saw another pair of feet whose owner had planned the same quick-change scenario.

Lunch on the first day was at a branch of The Mellow Mushroom. Peculiar choice of name as there was only one dish on the menu with even a hint of mushroom in it. They served basically pizzas, soups and burgers – and a fabulous barbecued chicken salad which I was lucky enough to discover on the menu. It sustained me through to breakfast the next morning, with the aid of a double-scoop chocolate ice cream cone at around 5pm.

With brilliant co-ordination by our trip planners we had only steps to go after lunch onto the bus for a short hop to our next stop which was the town in which we were staying, West Palm Beach. Our bus deftly manoeuvred tiny streets and sharp corners to the drop-off point at a newly-established shopping-and-eating venue called City Place. There were hoards of people enjoying the shops and restaurants but none of them could have had the merest idea we were about to set off on a 10K walk, armed with our bottles of cold water from the cooler stored in the bowels of the bus. Route map and written directions in hand, we set off with various degrees of enthusiasm it seemed – as a second walk in one day might be putting doubt in the minds of some of our group that their choice of weekend had perhaps been a bit foolhardy!

WPB, another charming venue, with long straight streets, and long periods to the next turn on the map. Some amongst us found the route a bit boring with ‘walk 8 blocks’, ‘walk 13 blocks’, ‘walk 8 blocks’ in the instructions. Having walked so many of the City blocks in Manhattan during 30+ years, I found the empty streets and sidewalks of WPB a delight to walk on, and even the cars will stop and wait for a group to traipse across the road, with not a hint of impatience or annoyance that we might be hindering their progress.  When you can see charming street markers like this, it makes it all very much worthwhile.


The finish point was of course exactly where the bus had dropped us earlier that afternoon. Being a pretty fast walker and with a companion who could keep up, I arrived back at City Place with a desire for an ice cream and there was an ice cream ‘parlour’ right there waiting for me to go in and buy. Plenty of time to greet others arriving back at our destination, some of whom went to the pre-assigned bar and grill where a ‘happy hour’ area had been reserved in our name and many partook of sustenance more in line with dinner than my ice cream.

This was now Friday evening, end of the work week for lots of people who had decided that a drink and meal with friends in City Place right after work was just the ticket! There was outdoor entertainment by a small group who had a couple of singers with pretty good voices. Tons of space to sit and enjoy that, and many people who must have been regulars had toted their own portable chairs (of the canvas/beach variety) to sit and listen. Our group assembled in dribs and drabs but we were nonetheless early for our bus. We stood by the valet parking line for City Place, and we observed that it wouldn’t be impossible for an enterprising thief to come along to one of the very nice vehicles being abandoned by their owners and drive off with it, ostensibly to park valet-style but really to take off on a joy ride. I picked out a very shiny black Jag convertible. Being English, I felt I should have first pick of that one!

Our bus was a few minutes late getting to us as the tiny street was really bursting at the seems with valet-parking hopefuls and those dropping off people who were probably thinking they’d get a head start on a table if they scooted into a restaurant ahead of their driver. We snaked along the sidewalk and hurried onto the bus, doing so in record time for a group of about 40 people; we never heard even a peep of a horn blowing from the cars behind us that we held up for only a few seconds. We congratulated ourselves on the speed with which we boarded the bus; it might have been some kind of record!

Returning to our hotel at around 7-ish, we scattered in several directions to our rooms in the hotel. Showering and a cup of tea was definitely necessary and a quick diversion into Target next door secured the provisions I needed. Night came a bit early that first day. To bed, perchance to dream…….of walking even further the next day!

It’s just like riding a bike, you never forget

But what if you didn’t remember what riding a bike was like?  In my younger days I knew I had thigh muscles I just didn’t need to be reminded!  These days I ride my new bike and I am instantly reminded that thigh muscles exist between my knees and my ….. well, you know.  And that’s another thing, I sat at a desk for 35+years and was hardly ever aware what I was sitting on.  But, hey, get on a bike and after a couple of miles I get one of those reminders!  ‘Look out, you’re not sitting at your desk on your ergonomically-designed, spring-suspension, super-duper comfy office chair.’  Nope, now you’re on a bicycle seat, even one carefully equipped with a memory foam add-on seat cover specially made to protect those older and more sensitive bits I sat on for those 3+ decades.

And let’s not talk about elbows.  Elbows which rested on a desk top while I read thousands upon thousands of letters and documents.  Those elbows were perfectly well-behaved and never shouted at me that I was putting too much pressure on them, or had them cocked at an awkward angle.  No those were great elbows.  But now!  Ha!  Elbows with verbal diarrhoea that’s what they are these days.  So what if I’m pressing rather hard and gripping the handle bars a bit too tightly, eh?  I don’t want to be thrown off my bike because I have missed that rather-larger-than-should-really-be-on-the-sidewalk pebble which will then cause the wheel to wobble and me to wobble even more and the not unlikely result that I shall end up on the grassy verge.  No, better to hold on tightly and suffer the complaints of my elbows.  (Why am I riding on the sidewalk anyway I hear you ask.  Well, in this semi-rural, sub-urban area we have a long straight road, only two-lane, along which rather large and heavily-laden trucks tend to speed.  If I kept to the cycle lane I would most likely be safe, but some of those trucks don’t like us cyclists too much and they never move over half a lane to give me a wide berth.  So on the sidewalk I go.  There aren’t many walkers in this area so for most of my rides I don’t bother anyone.)

And let’s not even mention knees.  My knees which these days are slacking on the job especially when they are supposed to be getting me back up to vertical when I’ve had occasion to bend down or, sin of sins, kneel down to get something.  No, these knees which seem to have joined forces with the elbows make an ever so slight complaint that I could possibly be making them work a bit too hard pushing those pedals round.  I ride along quite happily really, desperately hoping that no one driving by is noticing that I stiffen my legs every time I have to go over a sloping kerb so I can cushion the blow somewhat.

Stopping at the convenience store for the newspaper in full view of aforementioned truckers, or others buying whatever they need, requires a bit of planning.  Don’t want anyone to get the silly idea that my legs might have turned to jelly from all this exertion.  Plan: coast slowly to the far end of the gas station forecourt and try to stop the bike next to a parked vehicle.  Fiddle around with pockets of jacket pretending to be finding the couple of dollars I have brought out to buy the newspaper.  Real reason: giving legs a few seconds to get their act together before I have to fully dismount and walk into the convenience store.  Ah, success.  Full sensation returning to legs.  Safe to lock bike and enter store.  Phew, Sunday paper REALLY heavy.  Elbows protesting.  Knuckles, having spent time gripping the handlebars tightly, unable to release fingers to get the coins out of said pocket to pay for newspaper.  Luckily, convenience store sparsely populated.  Cashier engrossed in conversation with customer in front of me, politely with back to me (some people are so considerate).  No one notices blood resuming its proper position in extremities and I successfully pay for newspaper and exit store.

Now to attempt the return journey to home – but first have to try to get the bike lock undone.  Hmm, what was the combination………?

Jenz new bike
Jenz new bike