On being … the deciding feature

By Ingrid Sapona

There are a lot of useful household appliances. If I were ranking them, I’d say the refrigerator is the most important. (After all, without one, I couldn’t possibly have cheese on hand!) For me, the washing machine is a close second. I’ve never been keen on hand washing even my most expensive delicates – I can’t imagine washing bedsheets, towels, and what have you, by hand.

The other day I threw a load of laundry in. I was barefoot as I headed toward the washer to unload it. I felt something wet on the floor. When I looked down, I saw that I had stepped into a huge puddle. My heart sank, as I figured it had to be from the washing machine. I quickly got a bath towel to wipe up the water. That’s when I noticed the puddle was about two feet away from the washer. The area next to – and under – the washer was bone dry. Strange…     

I decided to try another load, this time watching for water. Not so much as a drop. Very strange… Since then I’ve done a few more loads and so far, so good. But, the puddle seemed a warning sign, so I began shopping for a new washer.

When I started looking, the only thing I knew for sure was that I want a top loading machine. (Besides the cost differential, I’ve heard some negative things about front loaders and I’ve never had a problem with my top loader.) Beyond that, I really didn’t know what “features” to look for. 

I started by looking on-line because I knew I’d be able to see the specs for each model. Also, I like the comparison feature on different websites. You can choose a half dozen different models and the program produces a list that lets you tell, at a glance, how they compare. The websites also have reviews, which I thought might be helpful.

I started my search in earnest. I selected a few models that looked similar to my current machine and I hit “compare”. Up came a list of 65 points of comparison. (65! I counted them!)  About half the items are things you might expect to see when talking about washing machines. For example, a yes or no list of features like: Delicate Cycle? Extra Rinse Cycle? Cycle Status Light? Power Cord Included? Delay Start? And End-of-Cycle Signal? 

But, as I went down the list, I couldn’t believe I was still comparing washers. Who looks for washers that have Bluetooth capability? Or washers that are Wi-Fi compatible? If you consider those things must-haves for a washer, then you’d be appalled to hear that NONE of the washers I looked at work with Apple HomeKit or Nest, nor do they work with Amazon’s Alexa, or Iris. (Who – or what – is Iris? I Googled it and the only thing I found were references to the eye and the flag!) I realize most of these “features” have to do with creating a “smart home” – but honestly, I don’t need a smart washer. Given that I’ll be manually loading the clothes in, I figure I can stand there the couple extra minutes it takes to turn it on.

As for the reviews, there’s really no way to make sense of 5000+ reviews. When someone gives a model 1 star (out of 5) because the machine broke after one wash, I figure they got a lemon – it doesn’t mean every one of that model breaks after one load. And when one review says the machine is very loud, but the very next review says it’s the quietest washer they’ve ever had, what are you to make of it? 

The on-line perusing helped me narrow in on the features I’d like. Then it was time to look at some models in person, so I headed to a big box store. The displays gave the length, width, depth, and height for each. But, none of them gave information about the height with the lid up. That’s a critical measurement for me because my dryer rests on a sturdy, non-adjustable metal frame over the washer. So, I borrowed the salesperson’s tape measure.

I ended up measuring all the top load models on display and – as unbelievable as it seems – only one of them might fit. And, it’ll be a squeaker – it’s within a quarter inch of the height measurement I took. I couldn’t believe it. After all that comparing and thinking about what features I want (not to mention, whether I could live with a “dumb” washer), it all boils down to one thing – whether the damned model fits the space I have for it!

Honestly, I wish appliance makers and builders would get together and set some sizing standards and then stick with them for a few decades. Until they do, I’m sure the deciding factor for many appliance purchases isn’t even on the list of “features” the companies boast about – it’s the age-old question of whether it fits. Kind of crazy, don’t you think?

© 2017 Ingrid Sapona

On being … primal?

By Ingrid Sapona

When I’m alone in the car I have the (bad) habit of “playing the buttons”, as my dad used to call it. If I don’t like the song, I flip to another station until I find something I like. The other morning I flipped to a station where the DJs were talking about a recent poll. I had missed the beginning of the discussion – the setup – but what I gathered was that the poll asked people what was the one thing they couldn’t live without.

Normally, I hate questions like that because they seem so contrived AND because I usually can’t come up with an answer. But this time, as soon as I heard the question, I blurted out: cheese. The fact the word popped out of my mouth without any conscious thought truly surprised me. But, I have to admit – I can’t imagine life without cheese.

As I said, I had missed the setup to the discussion about the poll. So, I didn’t know, for example, whether the poll provided a list of things to choose from, or whether people were asked to provide an answer “free-form” – as I had done. When the DJ announced the third most common answer people gave was their pet, I realized respondents must have been asked to choose between pre-set answers. Of course pet owners couldn’t live without their pets. It’d be like a parent saying they couldn’t live without their child – that’s not something you’d expect would even be in the realm of things anyone would choose to do without.

Anyway, after a brief discussion about pets and before revealing the two top answers, the DJ repeated the full question. Turns out the poll was about expenses that people incur for things but that they might be forced to give up if they were in a financial bind and had to really cut back. In that context, the number two answer – their cell phone – made perfect sense. I would have no problem giving up my cell phone. Hell, until about a year ago I had the most basic cell phone – the kind of thing that you could call 911 on, but not much more. Giving up my cell phone to cut costs isn’t much of a sacrifice, as far as I’m concerned – and it would save lots of money.

Given how surprised I was by the third and second most popular responses – and how very different they seem, I couldn’t imagine what the most common response was. Turns out the thing most people said they couldn’t live without is the internet. I will say, that response did give me pause. Having lived through some belt-tightening times, I have a ready list of services that, though I appreciate them, are always subject to cancellation should economic circumstances require it – things like Netflix, cable t.v., and newspaper subscriptions. But I’ve never actually thought about giving up the internet… that WOULD be hard to live without.

As I was weighing the choice of cheese vs. the internet, one of the DJs relieved me of the dilemma of choosing. He noted that if you have to give up the internet at home, there are still lots of places you can use it for free. The comment also helped me realize that my response of cheese actually has something in common with those who said their pet as something they can’t imagine living without – both appeal to more primal needs.

What about you? What couldn’t you give up?  

© 2017 Ingrid Sapona

On being … behaviour modified

By Ingrid Sapona

My introduction to the concept of “behaviour modification” came when I was a youngster. I first heard it from my oldest sister, who was studying to be a teacher. My understanding of it back then was that it was something teachers did to try to get students to change some sort of bad behavior to something that the teacher thought was better. Though I was young, I remember being kind of appalled at the idea of teachers learning a technique to manipulate kids’ behavior.

Fast forward 30 years to the early 2000s and the topic came up again when I was doing some work for a client. That client was designing energy conservation programs that relied on behaviour modification. For example, to get people to switch their consumption to off-peak hours, people were offered special meters they could plug different appliances into to find out how much energy each appliance draws. The meter would also automatically calculate the cost of running the appliance at high demand times and at off-peak times. The whole point was to get them to understand the exact cost benefits of changing their behaviour. I have to admit, in that context, I didn’t find behaviour modification the least bit sinister – if anything, I thought it was pretty clever.

Lately I’ve been working on modifying my own behaviour after I realized technology had modified me in a way I wasn’t too pleased about. It started a few years ago when my (then) cable company began offering customers the ability to “pause live t.v.” When it came out, I thought it was the stupidest “feature” I had ever heard of, and I sure as heck wasn’t going to pay for it. But, when they upgraded my digital recorder, it was one of a few new features included at no extra cost.

I soon discovered how handy it was to simply pause the show I was watching when the phone rang. Even better, however, was the ability to rewind live t.v. I can’t tell you how often someone would say something in a news story and I’d think, “Did I hear that right?” No problem, I could just rewind a bit and listen again.

Little did I know, however, that this handy feature was taking a toll on my listening skills. I first realized my ability to listen and synthesize what I’d heard was suffering when I found myself feeling frustrated that I couldn’t rewind when I was listening to the news on the car radio. I’d get so irritated because I couldn’t go back and re-listen, as I could with my t.v.

I’ve since changed television providers and so I no longer have the ability to pause or rewind live t.v. I don’t mind admitting I do miss it. But, giving them up is for the best, as it’s forced me to pay better attention and focus more on what I hear.

Having realized how a seemingly minor technological change can subtly – and negatively – cause changes to my behavior, I can’t help wonder if there are other ways my behaviour is being modified that I’m not even aware of. What about you? Has someone – or something – modified your behaviour? If so, is it for the best, or is it something you might want to (re)modify?

© 2017 Ingrid Sapona

On being … disconnected

By Ingrid Sapona

I wrote earlier this year that we’re in the process of selling the home I grew up in. As I noted earlier, sorting through over 50 years of family stuff and the accompanying memories was a challenge. As my way of coping with the emotion of it all, we tried to give things to people we thought might use, or enjoy, them.

We also donated lots of things. But, no matter how many trips I made to Goodwill, it barely seemed to make a dent. We ended up having an “estate” sale in hopes of getting rid of the rest.

The estate agent came through the house and assured us we were a good candidate for a sale. He insisted he’d be able to sell nearly everything.

He also discouraged us from being on hand during the sale, which was fine by me. I once put a few things in a garage sale my friend had and I found it awful. I hated it when someone picked up something I had marked $1 and they offered me 25¢ for it. I found it equally uncomfortable to hear people described stuff I once loved as kitschy or odd.

Because the estate agent was so confident that he could get rid of pretty much everything, I stressed to him that we really wanted to get rid of the shelving that was along two walls of the basement. I explained we needed that out because we would be having foundation work done before we sell the house. The estate agent said that if worse came to worse, he’d put a sign up saying the shelving was free for the taking. Great idea, I thought.

After the sale, the agent phoned me to tell me it went very well and that most of the things were gone. As for the rest, he offered the name of a “clean out” guy. Since I hadn’t seen what was left, I said I’d let him know. Before we hung up, he said he thought we could probably handle getting rid of whatever was left ourselves.

When I finally went to the house, I was dismayed by how much was still in the basement. There was a truly odd assortment of things that didn’t sell, as well as ALL the shelving. Though I might have been able to handle getting rid of the miscellaneous stuff, there was no way I could take down the shelves. So, I ended up phoning the clean out guy (I’ll call him John).

John came over to give us a quote to leave the house “broom clean”. He said he’d donate whatever he could and that he’d toss the rest. But, most importantly, his guys could tear down the shelving. He said he could probably cart the wood away with a few trips, though a short-term dumpster rental would be easier. I vetoed the idea of a dumpster. For starters, I didn’t want the world to know we were getting rid of stuff. But the main reason was because I couldn’t stand the thought of our stuff being chucked into a dumpster.

On the appointed day, John and one other fellow (I’ll call him Jim) came to the house. I quickly reminded them of what we needed done, and I left them in the basement. In fairly short order, I could hear hammering-like sounds, and wood falling. About an hour later, John left – apparently to buy garbage bags – but Jim continued. A bit later a small covered pickup backed up to the garage. The driver let himself in the side door and went directly to the basement – I figured he was part of the crew.

Next thing I know, he was filling the truck with stuff that didn’t sell at the estate sale. The truck quickly became full, or so I thought. But, he made at least a dozen more trips. It seemed as though the flat bed was a cover for a bottomless pit. Eventually he closed the back and drove away. Meanwhile, I could hear more lumber crashing to the floor.

Shortly after that, John returned for Jim. They were done for the day and the basement looked as though a tornado had come through. Watching the odd comings and goings of John and his crew, and hearing the thumps and thuds and then seeing the mess was like watching sausage being made. Very disquieting…

On day two, Jim and two others arrived with the kind of trailer lawn guys use for their riding mowers. They backed it up to the garage and Jim went back to work. I heard them talking and they estimated there was about 1000 lbs. of wood. With every plank they brought up, I couldn’t help wonder how – or when – Dad brought it all down there. I know it was over the course of years, but it was an amazing amount.

At one point Jim said that he was almost done, but he wouldn’t be able to finish until the next day because he needed a crowbar to get the rest. Given how much he had already brought out, I was surprised there was anything left. He said the rest was very sturdily attached to the rafters, so a hammer wasn’t enough. You know, I was kind of proud to hear that. I couldn’t help but think of all the hard work – and care – Dad took to build those shelves. He had clearly meant for them to stay put and I was glad it was at least a bit of a struggle to take them down.

I know that for John and Jim the “clean out” was just a job. But for us, their last bit of work was about more than just disconnecting the shelving from the rafters, it was about disconnecting our family from that house.

© 2017 Ingrid Sapona

On being … underlying assumptions

By Ingrid Sapona

I’m sure you’re familiar with the saying “a picture is worth a 1,000 words”. It’s a catchy adage that many embrace. I imagine there are a number of reasons it’s so popular. First off, the saying kind of paints a picture itself, albeit with words!

I also think it resonates with folks because most people probably have a catalogue of images they can bring into their mind’s eye quite quickly. Images of beloved persons, memorable events and sometimes even horrible incidents (think of the collapsing World Trade Center towers). Many memories are easier to conjure an image of than to describe.

Anyway, the idea of using pictures to explain things comes up a lot in business communications – my line of work. I’m all for using graphs, diagrams, and art work to help express ideas in a document because many folks are visual learners. I urge people to use both pictures and words in their business communications – that way you’ve covered most people you may be trying to reach.

Mind you, I’d never recommend just a diagram without a written explanation. Why? Because some people aren’t visual learners. I know because I’m in that category. I get so little out of most diagrams, I usually just skip them. I’ve taught lots of business writing classes and when I say that, there’s almost always an audible gasp from somewhere in the room. But it’s true – and I’m sure I’m not the only one who ignores them.

I had an interesting exchange with a work colleague this week. We were discussing how a process worked. Neither of us were experts in it, but we both had some experience with it. I started to explain my understanding. Mid-explanation he interrupted me. He reached for a piece of paper and with a bit of a patronizing tone said, “You’ve heard the saying 'A picture’s worth a 1000 words'?” I nodded. “Here, so let me show you”, he then said. He proceeded to make a diagram explaining the process to me – or at least his understanding of it.

I watched him as he made his sketch. I understood what he was getting at – not because the diagram made great sense to me – but because I followed what he was saying. I disagreed with his interpretation, but I waited till he was done. I then explained I thought his underlying assumption wasn’t necessarily valid and I pointed to the general area in the diagram that was based on the faulty assumption.

He sat and thought about it a moment and said, “Oh, I see…I see…” (Clearly a visual learner – even his word choice related to the visual.) A couple seconds later he somewhat grudgingly added, “Actually, you’re right!” Actually? I decried. Gosh, glad I could persuade you … now, can you seem a little less surprised that I understand the process? I didn’t say that last part, but I wanted to because he was clearly taken aback by my calling him out on his seeming surprise that my analysis could be correct.

The look on his face said he got that I didn’t appreciate the “actually” part. To his credit, he hesitatingly said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way”. I accepted his apology, but before we parted company, I pointed to the diagram. I told him that, despite the old adage, for some of us a picture isn’t worth a thousand words – it’s just a picture. So, I suggested that next time he decides to “show” someone what he means using a diagram, he shouldn’t assume they’ll get it by seeing it.

© 2017 Ingrid Sapona

On being… a noteworthy number

By Ingrid Sapona

Tomorrow Canada turns 150, so a column about anniversaries has been on my mind for a while. But, a few milestone anniversaries in the news this week got me thinking about the topic in somewhat more personal terms.

The 10^th anniversary of the iPhone and the 20^th anniversary of Harry Potter were two of the anniversaries that gave me pause, but kind of in opposite ways. On the one hand, I can’t believe Harry Potter has been around for 20 years already. I distinctly remember the first time I came across references to muggles, quidditch, and dementors, I wondered where they came from. When my oldest sister – a voracious reader – said it was from a children’s book that she had just read, I was intrigued. She lent me her copy and, like so many others, I got caught up in the magic (no pun intended) created by JK Rowling.

I’m not like other Potter fans – I didn’t rush out to get the books as they were published – I relied on my sister to lend me her copies when she was done. I can’t tell you the names of the different books, nor can I remember the names of all the instructors at Hogwarts. But I’ll never forget feeling in awe of Rowling’s talent (not to mention more than a bit jealous) and her insights into human nature. Having read the entire series, of course I knew that Harry, Ron, and Hermione grew up, but I can’t imagine them as 30-somethings!

As for the iPhone, I was honestly surprised it’s only been around for 10 years. I was a late convert to “smart phones”. Though I had two cell phones before I got my iPhone, I thought of them as a mere convenience – and safety feature – in case my car broke down. I didn’t really have much reason for a smart phone, let alone an expensive one. 

But about five years ago, I had the opportunity to create an iPod app and then I got an iPad for some other work. After that little taste – like Adam and millions of others who have eaten the forbidden fruit – I was hooked on Apple products. So, when it was time to get a new cell phone, switching to the iPhone was a no-brainer. At this point, I can’t imagine having any other phone. I’m not wedded to it – I still have a “land line” – but I find my iPhone so handy, I barely remember what my life was like before it. And yet, if the iPhone is only 10, that means it’s not even been a part of my life for that long … Amazing.

Another invention that marked a major anniversary this week is the ATM – the automated teller machine – it turned 50. Since I was in law school in the early 1980s, they’ve been my main way of banking. I have always preferred cash over credit (I find I pay attention to my spending a bit better), so I make good use of ATMs. It’s the rare occasion – like when I was seeking a mortgage to buy my condo – that I actually go into the bank and speak with someone. And, just when I thought the ATM couldn’t be made better, my bank’s new ATMs let you deposit multiple cheques at once and it prints a photo of the cheque on the receipt. And to think – 51 years ago the technology probably seemed like something out of the Jetsons!

And then there’s tomorrow’s big day – the 150^th anniversary of confederation. Unlike in the US, where every event becomes commercialized, there really hasn’t been much cashing in on the anniversary. A couple years ago there was a competition to create a logo for the event. A 19-year-old art student’s stylized, multi-coloured maple leaf was chosen. There was a flurry of criticism of it (mostly by design professionals who seemed offended that the winning design was created by someone who wasn’t a registered graphic designer), and then the logo kind of disappeared.

Monochromatic versions of the logo appeared a couple months ago on t-shirts, but they weren’t widely available. As for shirts with the multi-coloured logo, when my sister wanted one (she saw it on Live with Kelly and Ryan), the only place I could find one was on-line. When I ordered it, I found out it was screen-printed in California! In contrast, here in multi-cultural Toronto, during the World Cup there are folks on every other corner selling flags and regalia from all the countries competing. It hasn’t been that way for Canada 150 regalia.

Instead, in lead up to the anniversary the focus has been more on what it means to be Canadian. The CBC and our national newspapers have done features about the people that make up Canada – from the indigenous to the immigrant. I love the introspection…

And one last example of how the anniversary is being observed. The City of Toronto sent out a notice about local street closures for tomorrow celebration. The notice was on letterhead that had clearly been created for the event – it read:

TO Canada

with Love

Honouring 150 Years

(TO stands for Toronto, Ontario, in case you’re wondering.)

At first I thought it was odd that it says “honouring” instead of “celebrating”. But then I realized that’s probably in deference to the indigenous people who have been here lots longer and who don’t necessarily feel that Canada’s 150^th is anything to celebrate. I know – maybe a minor gesture – but still a sign of respect and acknowledgement.

Anyway, quite a few meaningful anniversaries for one week, don’t you think? Lucky for me it’s a long holiday weekend – there’ll be plenty of time for reflection AND celebration.

© 2017 Ingrid Sapona

On being …a teacher’s hope

By Ingrid Sapona

When I was going through stuff at my mother’s house, I came across my high school yearbooks. I don’t feel particularly nostalgic about high school, so there was no question that they’d be going into the recycle bin. Before I tossed them though, I leafed through them.

Unlike some, high school wasn’t the highlight of my education, much less my life. But, I did enjoy a few activities – like marching band and I was in the orchestra for the school musical my third year (I think that’s when it was). I looked for photos of those activities, but there really weren’t any. 

I was surprised to find some things clubs I was in – like the yearbook – that I don’t remember participating in. I also thought it was interesting that I had completely blocked out the trauma of being subjected to the “Solomon Stare” – the evil eye Mr. Solomon, the concert band director – routinely shot my way. Truth be told: I didn’t remember the Solomon Stare until I was reminded of it reading a comments (jealous) bandmates wrote about it my yearbook the year I quit concert band.

The obvious highlights of any yearbook are the comments written by friends and teachers. There were surprises there too. One thing I’m actually embarrassed to admit is that there were a couple inscriptions written by people – friends? – I don’t remember. That makes me wonder whether there are many folks whose yearbook I signed that don’t remember me either. I’m sure there must be – after all, there were 600 in my graduating class.

It was the comments by teachers that really gave me pause. I was a good student and I have fond memories of many of them. So, I was especially interested in seeing which teachers I asked to sign my yearbook, and what they said. In reading them, I was struck by how ordinary they seem all these years later. I got the sense that each of them probably had a few stock platitudes they wrote year in, year out.

In reflecting on it some 40 years out, I realize that over the course of their careers, they influenced hundreds of students and were probably asked to sign thousands of yearbooks. Indeed, despite the banality of some of the comments, they deserve a lot of credit for making me feel special and worthy of individual attention when they were my teachers.

The thing that struck me the funniest was that one teacher’s wish for me actually came true. It was a wish written in my yearbook by a teacher whose name I didn’t even remember: Mrs. Florence Wagner, my typing teacher. I definitely remember taking typing, and I remember why. The main reason is that it fit in my schedule. You see, most of our courses ran the full-year, but New York State required students to take a half-year health course, so I had to fill in the other semester with something. Typing was not just a sensible choice, it was the one course my mother insisted I take. Her theory was that typing was a skill I could always use as a secretary. (I guess she was worried that my academic career might be short-lived.)

Mrs. Wagner’s wish for me was this: “I hope you get to type ever day of your life”. I’m sure when I first read that I figured that’s just what a typing teacher would say. But, honestly, looking back on it, maybe Mrs. Wagner was more of a visionary than she got credit for. Who knows, maybe she foresaw the role computers and keyboards would have in all our lives. I know, probably not. Good old Mrs. Wagner probably just understood that mastering basic skills always stands you in good stead.

So, though I’ll always wonder what might have happened if she’d have phrased her hopes for me a bit differently – maybe something along the lines of: “I hope your typing skills pay off for you as a famous writer”, I hope Mrs. Wagner lived long enough to realize that her hopes for me – and likely thousands of others – came true.

What about you? What hopes do you think your high school teachers had for you? Did they come to pass?  

© 2017 Ingrid Sapona

On being … hocus-pocus?

By Ingrid Sapona

One of the ways I describe my consulting services is that I translate complex, often technical, information into plain language. So, in my work, I deal with subject matter experts – “SMEs”, as they are often referred to – a lot. I talk with them about what they do, always trying to understand it enough to write intelligently about it. It’s a challenge on a variety of levels. Often, when experts write about what they do, they either provide no detail or way too much detail for non-expert audiences. As you can imagine, neither of those options is ideal, which is why I’m hired to do the writing.  

One of the biggest hurdles is gaining SMEs’ trust and confidence. I basically need to convince them that I’m intelligent enough to “get” what they do, even though I couldn’t do what they do. I find that the best way to win them over is by demonstrating my curiosity and interest, and not being afraid to ask basic questions.

The trickiest part of my job often involves figuring out how much detail to include for my audience, typically folks with little background on the topic. But, to get to the point where I can explain things in plain language, I need to have a pretty solid understanding of the stuff. Before I meet with an SME, I usually do a fair bit of background reading on the topic.

By the time I meet with the expert, I want to at least have the big picture. I think one of the reasons I’m good at working with SMEs is because I don’t mind displaying my ignorance. The way I see it, the expert is there to educate me and I’ve always been an eager student. Many of my questions are focused on understanding the jargon associated with the field. Sometimes it’s as simple as asking them to define terms and then explaining my understanding back to them in my own words to make sure I have it right.

Usually what I feel I need to understand is how they got from point A to point C. In other words, I want to understand what happens at point B. Sometimes the expert is openly unwilling to tell me. In those cases, I think of point B as the secret sauce, and I can understand that they don’t want to share all their secrets. When that’s the case, I don’t mind simply explaining to readers that something involves a trade secret or proprietary information.

Lately I’ve worked with experts that seem happy to tell me, but their ultimate explanation boils down to them saying “we apply an algorithm” – as though that says it all. The first few times I got that response, I wished I had taken more math. But, just because I may not be able to interpret a complex mathematical equation, it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the factors that underpin the algorithm, so that’s what I try to get at.

Unfortunately, as often as not, the experts never seem to be able to explain much about the algorithm they’re relying on in their work. So, I’ve pretty much given up trying to get further insights. To be honest, that’s pretty freeing. Now, instead of feeling stupid when I can’t understand some outcome that relies on an algorithm, I just sit back and accept that the algorithm is like a magician’s hocus-pocus – no point in asking what it means – it’s enough to know that if all goes well, it’ll yield some magic result.

© 2017 Ingrid Sapona