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renegadepisces · 4 years

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Bright Imagine: Kandomere accidentally meets your family part 3

Fandom: Bright

Pairing: Kandomere x reader

Tags: slow build, fluff, eventual nsfw

Note: also on AO3 as Serendipity & Caffeine

Dread wasn’t quite the right word for how you felt about Friday’s dinner. You could never dread seeing your sibling and their family. Your family wasn’t the issue.

It wasn’t Kandomere’s fault though, you chided yourself. Your sibling and their spouse had invited him. He was more than welcome to attend.

And the problem wasn’t necessarily that you didn’t want him to attend. You didn’t dislike him. In fact, he’d grown on you since you’d run into him while out with your family. As intimidating as he was - he had to intimidate to do his job - he clearly had a soft spot for children. He’d taken not only to stopping by your desk on his way to his office in the morning and asking how you were, but asking about your family too.

No, your family wasn’t the issue. Neither was Kandomere. You were stunned on Wednesday when you shared the time and location of the gathering and Kandomere assured you he’d attend. It wasn’t his assurance that shocked you, or his willingness to spend a prime Friday night eating lasagna with a suburban family of 5 (6, counting you), or even the professional uneasiness of going to a family dinner with your superior.

You felt relief when he said he’d be there. A strange flutter rose in your chest when he insisted he’d pick you up and drive you home too. He offered a practical explanation of course - one car is better than two and all that. It finally dawned on you that you wanted to Kandomere to come.

And that was the problem confronting you when you slipped through the door of your apartment on Friday afternoon and prepared to tackle the absurdity of your evening plans. It was a familiar dance. You did your hair, freshened up your face, agonized over what to wear, and finally paced through your living room while stealing fervent glances at the digital clock displayed on your ancient coffee pot as you waited for Kandomere to pick you up.

It felt too much like a date. The careful choices for your appearance, the waiting anxiously by your phone, the hoping that your family would like him - these were date rituals. These were boyfriend rituals.

But Kandomere was not your boyfriend. Kandomere was a walking, talking, sneering elf gorget-wearing visual definition of the word unattainable. Having a crush on your coworker was stupid. Having a crush on your stupidly handsome elvish coworker? That was delusional.

You’d consoled yourself over the telenovela-level disaster you’d somehow gotten yourself into by baking. You liked baking in general and often overindulged in the hobby during particularly stressful periods. You found something therapeutic in kneading bread dough and whisking cake batter.

You’d baked something every night since your sibling invited Kandomere to dinner. Two dozen blueberry-lemon-poppyseed muffins on Tuesday, your favorite coffee cake with cinnamon bun glaze on Wednesday, and a layered chocolate cake with dulce de leche buttercream icing and mocha drizzle on Thursday.

Okay, you’d meant to make the cake. You always brought desert to family dinners and this one was your sibling’s favorite. You’d deposited the muffins in the breakroom at work early enough that no one knew who’d brought them. Overhearing the steady stream of compliments whenever you made another cup of coffee or refilled your water bottle had been uplifting, even if you didn’t take credit. You’d kept the coffee cake for yourself at home. The dulce de leche cake was neatly and securely packed in a portable cake stand, waiting on Kandomere to pick you up.

Your heart leapt into your throat when you heard a knock at the door. You’d expected the innocuous buzz of a text message, but the sound of knuckles tapping lightly against the door pierced the tense silence of your apartment like a dart.

Cautiously, you crossed the living room and pressed your eye to the peephole. Kandomere, continuing to astound you in all the worst ways, stood in the harsh fluorescent lighting of your apartment corridor. It wasn’t a bad place to live - certainly nicer than a lot of other complexes in LA - but Kandomere still looked equally out-of-place and breathtaking.

“Sir,” was the best greeting you could come up with as you stepped out into the hallway.

“So formal,” he said, his eyes sweeping across you appraisingly before settling on the cake carrier clutched in your hands.

“Dessert, I assume?”

“By my sibling’s personal request. I hope you like chocolate,” you teased.

“Not your nephews’ choice? I didn’t expect you to miss a chance to spoil them.” he said, gesturing toward the end of the corridor, where the elevator was, in an obvious invitation to get going.

“I make whatever cake they want for their birthdays and any time I babysit. The younger one comes up with some weird flavor combinations and I’m waiting with baited breath to see what he asks for this year.”

“A boy after my own heart.” Kandomere chuckled, “I have a horrible sweet tooth.”

You hadn’t meant to tell him more than he asked. The words just slipped out. You liked talking about the boys. More alarmingly, Kandomere seemed to like listening to you talk about them. Why else would he stop by your desk and make small talk about what school they attended and if their hobbies kept you busy on your days off?

The drive to your sibling’s home was mostly quiet. You traded inane details about cases you were working on and swapped MTF office chatter until Kandomere’s GPS brought you to your destination - one of those cookie-cutter suburban starter home communities. It was nicer than your apartment complex, but not nearly as luxurious as what you were sure Kandomere was used to.

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t have bothered knocking, but you wanted to give your sibling and their spouse some warning before you brought a guest into their home. Your hand never made it to the door though.

It jerked inward, startling you and throwing you off balance as the solid surface you were reaching for fled from your outstretched hand. A hand gripped you by your shoulder and steadied you before gently pulling you back to your feet. Kandomere, with the lightning fast reflexes and grace common among elves, had kept you from falling face first into your youngest nephew.

“Are you supposed to answer the door by yourself?” you chided him gently.

Completely unfazed by your correction, he looked up at you and Kandomere and asked, “Why are you holding hands?”

Your face burned as you realized you’d brought your hand up to your shoulder when Kandomere kept you from falling a few seconds before. Instinctively, you both pulled your hands away, breaking the contact.

Your sibling burst into view, holding your niece in their arms and telling their middle child not to be rude and keep you and Kandomere standing outside.

As you suspected, everything was perfect. The lasagna was already on the table and had cooled to the point that it could be eaten without scorching your tongue. Kandomere had brought flowers as a gift instead of wine, not knowing if your niece was breastfed. She was, and your sibling and their spouse appreciated his thoughtfulness. Your nephews even ate most of their vegetables without needing to be pestered.

Kandomere had been positively gregarious all evening, so it didn’t surprise you when he complimented you on your cake. You were a good baker after all, and knew a few secrets to making boxed cake mix taste like it was made from scratch. Covering it with heaps of homemade buttercream icing was one of them.

“This is truly excellent. I never knew you were so accomplished y/n,” he praised.

“Oh this isn’t even their best cake recipe. Y/n, you should bring your coffee cake into the office some time.” your in-law said.

“I should have known your best work would feature coffee.” Kandomere laughed.

Before you could respond, the baby monitor crackled to life in your sibling’s hand. Your niece had slept through dinner peacefully, but now wanted attention. Your in law started to get up from the table, but you stopped her.

“Let me get her. Sit down and eat your cake,” you insisted.

They didn’t argue. You’d done just about everything that babies required with all three of their children. From diapers to vomit, you’d handled it. Besides, Kandomere seemed to be having a good time. You wondered what embarrassing stories your sibling might try to tell him and if their spouse would them.

Your niece was working herself up into a sobbing tantrum when you tiptoed into her room. She screeched indignantly when you picked her up and fisted your shirt in her chubby hands. You didn’t smell anything that pointed to her needing a change, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

You noticed her onesie was wet near the neck and touched your finger to her mouth. Now you had a sneaking suspicion as to why she was so irritated. Quietly, you retreated to the kitchen and reached into the freezer. Clutching your prize in one hand and holding your niece on your hip with the other, you returned to her room. Hopefully her teething ring and a few lullabies would get her back to sleep.

By your second refrain of Frere Jacques, her sobs were quieting as she sucked almost hungrily at the cold teething ring. You sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star until you saw her eyelids drift closed. If she could make it through a round of Danny Boy, you could be sure she was asleep and put her back in her crib.

“And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me. . .” you crooned the final line, looking down at her for any sign of stirring.

She was sound asleep.

In the hallway, Kandomere’s ears twitched as he caught the sound of your lullabies. You didn’t have a great singing voice, but it was soothingly steady and soft. Clearly, it was good enough for the kids because even the oldest of your nephews was nodding off in his seat.

It seemed that your lullaby affected the whole house, because you hadn’t been out of your niece’s nursery long before the process of saying goodbyes began. First the boys, who needed to go get ready for bed. Then your in-law, who always left you and your sibling alone together at the end of these nights. Your sibling always walked you to your car and waited until you disappeared from sight before turning out the lights and joining their spouse in bed.

This all made it incredibly strange to experience your sibling walking you and Kandomere to the door. It only got weirder when you remembered that Kandomere had driven you both there and would therefore be driving you home. The whole affair seemed so intimate. You’d dated men who didn’t meet your family even after months, and yet he had met them less than a week ago and was already eating lasagna and getting goodbye hugs from your nephews.

“I didn’t think you’d be so good with kids.” you blurted out, motivated equally by curiosity and desperation to break the mounting silence filling the car.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you assured him, “I just mean that most people who do that well with kids have experience. Either they grew up in a large family or they have kids of their own. I didn’t think either was true of you, so I didn’t expect you to be so good with my family. I meant it as a compliment Kandomere.”

He remained silent far longer than you liked before answering.

“Elves usually don’t have large families. Most of us are only children and plenty of us don’t have children at all. Growing up, I always wanted a large family.”

“Well, you can still make that happen.” you said, and you regretted it as soon as the words came out your mouth. It sounded like you were flirting. You definitely hadn’t meant for that to sound like flirtation.

“With our hours? I’m not holding my breath.” he scoffed.

“Oh come on. You’re an intelligent, attractive elf in LA. There are plenty of people who would date you. You just don’t meet them because you practically live at your desk.” you retorted.

“Alright then y/n, why are still you single if you’re the expert?” His tone was playful, and his lips parted just enough for you to catch the glint of his sharpened canines through his smile.

“Well, this may surprise you but the number of sane, available men attracted to human female cops with a background in martial arts and behavioural profiling is a statistical aberration.”

You both erupted into peels of laughter. The mood in the car shifted suddenly, dispelling the tension as the suffocating silence fled in the wake of your laughter. You found that carrying on a conversation in such an intimate and personal setting as Kandomere’s car came much more easily when he was smiling at you.

“And my family doesn’t like anyone I date. Not a single one.” you said, “Though they seem to like you.”

“Your nephew did tell me you were single.”

Your eyes widened in shock and you choked back a startled noise. You were tempted to ask which one, but were silent for the rest of the ride to your apartment. Your face burned in embarrassment.

Despite that, now that you faced the possibility of ending the night, you hesitated. As much as you hadn’t looked forward to tonight, it had been pleasant.

It had been a while since you’d asked a man up to your apartment. And that wasn’t really what you were going for. You wanted Kandomere to come up with you but not like that.

Fuck it, you decided as he puled up to the curb.

“Would you be up for a second dessert course Kandomere?” you asked.

You heard his breath hitch. The dim light of your complex’s parking garage and the inscrutable curtain of his lustrous hair made it impossible to gauge his reaction.

“I happened to make that coffee cake my in-law mentioned on Wednesday night. You said earlier that you have a sweet tooth.”

Silence welled up around you like a rising tide. You were about to give up and get out of the car when he seemed to make a decision. Kandomere turned his crystalline eyes toward yours, and shifted the car into park.

“I’d love that.”

As nerve-wracking as having Kandomere in your sibling’s home had been, inviting him into your tiny apartment was even worse. You kept it tidy thankfully, but you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about your modest lifestyle.

He didn’t betray the faintest hint of judgement though. He seemed genuinely more interested in the promised coffee cake than scrutinizing your home. You had a stovetop espresso pot, and quickly set it to work on producing two cups of liquid caffeine. You’d worked with Kandomere long enough to know he never said no to coffee regardless of the time of day.

Somehow, he looked less out of place on your couch than he had in the corridor at the beginning of your evening together. Maybe, you thought, it was the way he looked with his suit jacket removed, or the way he reclined into the plush cushions of your oversized second hand sofa.

The coffee pot sang, signalling that it was time to cut the cake. It still looked and smelled as good as it had the night you’d made it. You brought the plates of cake and cups of steaming hot espresso to the coffee table and took a seat beside him on the sofa.

Kandomere glided a dainty forkful to his lips, passing the fork between his perfectly white, pointed teeth. You watched him savor the bite like it was a gourmet morsel from some elftown patisserie. He even closed his eyes, as if to focus more on the taste.

“I’m not complaining. I truly appreciate your talents y/n,” he said around a mouthful of cake, and your heart plummeted through the floor as you prepared to hear what you assumed would be a critical review of your very best cake.

“But I have to know: why did you bake so much this week?”

“Excuse me?” You asked, not following his logic. He should only know about two desserts. Unless-.

“The muffins in the breakroom on Wednesday morning. Outside of the breakroom, the smell was strongest at your desk but I never saw you eat a single one. So the smell must have gotten on you a different way, like when you brought them into the breakroom.”

Sometimes you forgot he was a real federal agent with impeccable deductive reasoning skills and enhanced senses.

“Listen,” you blurted as your brain hastily tried to piece together a narrative that would adequately explain the situation without embarrassing you even more. It failed.

“Oh, I am.” he said, smirking and leaning forward.

“I had no idea how to handle tonight. It’s fine but it’s weird right? You’re not my direct supervisor but you are a senior agent and I work with you but we’re not close. But you’re invited to my sibling’s house for a family gathering and you have to understand that I have dated men for months who have never met my sibling’s kids. And I bake when I’m stressed, so I just kept baking things. I wasn’t even done after the dulce de leche cake. I’ve got dough in the freezer-”

Suddenly, his hands darted to your shoulders and pulled you toward him. You were cut off by his lips crashing against yours. You closed your eyes, leaning into the kiss. As one of his hands roamed upward from your shoulder to settle at the nape of your neck, the other wound itself in your hair, pulling you even closer.

You shuddered as his tongue swept across your bottom lip. The pressure of his teeth followed shortly behind, gently worrying your flushed and steadily swelling lips. He painted featherlight, teasing strokes against the roof of your mouth with his tongue, earning him a low, breathy moan.

He broke the kiss as quickly as he’d begun it. His hands and lips - along with their giddying warmth and attention - withdrew sharply as he tore himself away from you.

“I’m sorry,” he panted, snatching up his jacket, “This was a mistake.”

He retreated into the corridor, not casting even a split-second glance behind him as your front door slammed shut.

#bright #netflix bright #bright imagine #kandomere x reader #reader insert

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les-eaux-d-eunoe-blog · 6 years

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Hooo boy, so it’s been a while, hasn’t it? But fear not, not only am I still making my journey through RCIA, I’m all scheduled to officially become a catechumen at the beginning of November.

So here’s a rundown of what I’ve been up to in the mean time:

RCIA started in my parish officially at the start of September. Initially, around 10 people came to the first session, but this number has slowed to a trickle of between 3-5 of us, depending on the week.

Everyone else in the group is already baptized, so I’m the only one who will officially become a catechumen rather than a candidate. Because of this, I will not be dismissed at Mass, (because I guess that would be awkward.)

I’m one of three of us in the 20-30 age group, and two in the group are over 50, (who it must be noted, show up much more regularly.)

Every Sunday, we participate in a guided bible study and prayer session, followed by Mass.

During my inquiry, I was also given a copy of ‘33 Days to Morning Glory’ by my RCIA director, which is a DIY Marian Consecration retreat, and I’d highly recommend it. I especially loved reading about the concept of the Immaculata, which describes Mary as being, in a way, born with the life purpose to become the spouse of the personage of the Holy Spirit.

I completed my Marian Consecration on October 7th, the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. As a token of the consecration, have ordered an antique French Miraculous Medal, minted in 1881. Which I also found out is the birth year of St. Pope John XXIII, who opened the Second Vatican Counsel.

The day before my consecration that rainy Sunday in the Church Garden, my boyfriend M. and I visited an elderly member of my parish to help her with her record player. In thanks she gifted me a brown scapular, which I have been wearing every day and striving to fulfill the requirements of, (which I am told is to wear it continually, remain chaste according to my state of life, and to either pray one of the prayers of The Little Office of Our Lady daily, or to abstain from meat on Wednesdays and Saturdays.)

And now, I’m tasked with finding Godparents (a bit confusing to me) and the greater task of finding my my patron saint. Which really is a task. I have about 20 lined up on a note card.

Do I, an artist and musician, chose a patron saint of the arts like St. Catherine of Bologna or St. Cecilia? Do I choose badass musician, scientist and botanist St. Hildegard of Bingen who wrote her own Gregorian Chants? The somewhat melancholic St. Faustina who wrote extensively on purgatory and whose visions detailed the Divine Mercy? Or Jewish-raised contemporary philosopher St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, who converted less than a decade before she was martyred in a concentration camp in WWII. Every day there’s another saint to enthrall and jumble up the already difficult choice.

Reading more of scripture, as well as the historical speculation of early manuscripts of the Bible and related texts, I am so struck by the absolute depth and complexity of the mystery of the Church, which is a bit vexing to know that I’ll never fully understand.

Reading primers on The Theology of the Body, I am overtaken by a greater sense of dignity for my body and vocation as a woman. I feel a deeper desire, and a stronger foundation, to build greater respect for myself and my future, because I can see the intention in myself physically. This has been one of the most transformative and uplifting branches of my study so far.

I’m in great anticipation of finding a way to really bridge and communicate for others the dualism of my secular and atheist upbringing with this sudden blossoming of Christian faith, which mystifies me as much as it does the people around me. I admit that I struggle to find the words only because they are so many. It feels like a mammoth project.

So I’ll pray for the ability to distill it into something accessible, while my perspectives from these two divided vantages is still so clear; while my path is still illuminated in its recency. I feel it’s a duty of sorts for others who might be on the same path, God willing.

Anyways, sorry for the wall o’text. It’s been a month coming.

More to come soon, and in smaller bits. With love.

#rcia journal #pre-catechumen

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dangkynhanhieusanphamcom · 5 years

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Brexit has given me a sense of dread – and Spurs aren’t helping

Monday

The final day of the last home cricket Test match is always tinged with melancholy. Even when England win a game to draw the series. It’s the end of summer, the nights drawing in and a long slog through to spring. But the weekend had another layer of sadness as about 70 of us gathered in a beautiful Wiltshire garden to celebrate the life of an old friend who died of cancer in the summer. In May he was merely complaining of back pain; two months later he was dead. He was only 64. Ali had a variety of seemingly incompatible careers – there can’t be many accountants who also made shoes for dozens of films including the Harry Potter series and Gladiator – but at heart he was basically an old hippie who was never happier than when driving around in his old VW camper van with his dog and friends in tow. So as well as some touching speeches, there was plenty of Grateful Dead and a spine-tingling live version of Gram Parsons’ A Song for You performed by one of his closest friends, Rod. I knew him primarily as a lifelong supporter of the Hemingford Hermits, one of the world’s worst cricket teams, for whom I played for about 25 years before my knee gave out. My performances were so mediocre it took the rest of the team five years to notice that I had actually retired. Ali never batted, never bowled and never fielded, making him the very best of us. Something that was recognised by him twice winning the award for Hermit of the Year. The second time posthumously. As we left to go back to London, our dog was so overjoyed to see the people who had looked after him while we were on holiday that he tried to get into their car. It was a day marked by loss.

Tuesday

It’s hard not to enjoy the Lib Dem party conference. Bournemouth in the mid-September sun, when most holidaymakers have long since vacated the beach, is hard to beat and there is none of the ring of steel security that surrounds both the Labour and Conservative dos. There is no queueing up to have your pass checked by three separate security guards, followed by a 20-minute wait in a demilitarised zone as you and your bags are put through an airport scanner. Rather you just turn up at the front door, wait for 30 seconds at most while someone does a quick hand search of your bag, and you’re in. You actually feel as if everyone is pleased you have made the effort to come rather than a problem to be managed. Much of the conference itself seemed to be focused on the thrill of the new. New leader, new opinion polls putting the party neck and neck with Labour, new Brexit policy and a half dozen new MPs. Sam Gymiah, Sarah Wollaston, Luciana Berger, Chuka Umunna, Angela Smith and Philip Lee were all given a hero’s welcome and every event at which they spoke was packed. It did make me feel a bit sorry, though, for those Lib Dem MPs who had been with the party during the dog days when no one took much notice of them and were now rather taken for granted. Just about the only place where they were guaranteed a presence was in the merchandise stall. Here Tim Farron, Tom Brake and Wera Hobhouse took pride of place on the coffee mugs and fridge magnets as there hadn’t been time to order in any with the defectors’ faces on them. There were also several Lib Dems whom neither I, nor the woman running the stall, could identify. O tempora, o mores.

Wednesday

Piers Morgan would no doubt tell me I need to man up and stop being such a snowflake, but Brexit is definitely doing nothing for my mental health. I feel depressed and my anxiety levels are sky high. I wake up in the morning with a sense of dread – it often takes a huge effort just to get out of bed – and I feel out of control most of the day. It becomes increasingly hard to be funny about things that aren’t really funny and yet I wouldn’t swap my job for the world. Satire at least gives me some release. But other things don’t as much as they used to. There was a time when I was going through depressive episodes that football would give me a sense of purpose when little else did. The Spurs fixture list was imprinted in my brain. Now, not so much. Today I even forgot that Tottenham were playing their first Champions League match in Greece against Olympiacos until 10 minutes after kick-off. That’s never happened before. I still go to all home games and quite a few aways – some things will never change – but I do feel slightly disconnected from the team. Part of the problem is the new stadium. I’ve tried to love it, to embrace the increased capacity and the better facilities but I can’t help missing the old White Hart Lane. Even the rancid toilets. Watching football at the new ground reminds me of going to a baseball game in the US, where people wander in and out of their seats during play. It has become more of a tourist destination than a place of communion. Every game there are different people sitting next to me and I yearn for the faces I used to see week in, week out. Even the bloke who used to annoy everyone by yelling “CONCEN-TRATE” throughout the game. Words I thought I would never write.

Thursday

Three days at the upreme court following – with a great deal of help from Owen Bowcott, the Guardian’s superb legal affairs editor – the appeals against the different rulings by the English and Scottish courts on the legality of the government’s decision to prorogue parliament has been an intense but also uplifting experience. A sense that some people really did still care about the rule of law. It also gave me a new hero in the form of Lord Pannick – a total failure for nominative determinism – who was acting for Gina Miller against the government. Here was a man totally in command of both his brief and surroundings who could make complex arguments in plain English and cut through bullshit with ease. I could listen to him speak all day and if ever I found myself on the wrong side of the law, he’s the man I would want on my side. Though I dare say I could probably only afford to pay for 20 seconds of his time, so I would have to pray my case was simple. I did wonder, though, quite whether his opposite numbers in court always feel quite as warm towards him as I – and, it seemed, many of the judges – did. Because however good you are, you are almost bound to look a bit crap in comparison. I’m sure that on his day, Lord Keen, who was acting for the government, is a first-rate lawyer. But up against Pannick, he visibly crumbled and became almost incoherent. There again, Keen was having to make the tricky case that Boris Johnson was intrinsically trustworthy. Even Pannick might have struggled with that.

Friday

I am full of wonder for the achievement of Sarah Thomas in swimming across the Channel four times without a break. Not just for her physical endurance – few swimmers can even manage a single crossing – but for her mental strength. The sheer pain and boredom involved in going through the same repetitive motion with no real change of scenery for well over two days is almost unimaginable. I’ve always been a hopeless swimmer and I’ve been far too scared to ride a bike out on the roads after the mother of one of my daughter’s best friends was knocked off and killed by a lorry, so ever since I had my knee replaced with a lump of metal I’ve had to rely on the non-load-bearing cross trainer in the gym for exercise. I try to go at least three times a week – more frequently when on holiday – not just to keep me fit but to displace stress. I have to get my endorphin fix somehow these days. After turning up the resistance to level 15, all I’m capable of focusing on after 20 minutes or so is the sheer exertion required to keep going. The longest I’ve ever kept it up for was an hour and 45 minutes and it wasn’t fatigue – even though I was knackered – that made me stop. It was the boredom. And I at least had the distraction of a TV to watch in the gym. Thomas just had the grey waves and the lights of her safety boat for company. Whatever she’s got, I want some of it.

Digested week, digested: The Incredible Sulk v The Incredible Silk

‘The thing is, John, that the real victim in all this has been me.’ Photograph: Jeff Overs/Getty Images

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phynxrizng · 6 years

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A MEMORIAL TO THOSE HURT AND KILLED YESTERDAY IN KENTUCKY,

Skip to content Witches Of The Craft® PRIMARY MENU We Will Be Closed Today But Back Tomorrow….. Good morning, my dear sweet brothers & sisters of the Craft! As you have probably guessed by now, we are off the internet today. Yesterday took a very heavy toll on all of us. I didn’t realize how heavy the toll would be till the names of the victims were released this morning. One I already knew had been killed at the school, her aunt called me. The other, a fifteen year old young man, my ex-husband worked with his father and knew him also. This area is a tight-knit community and it seems everyone is kin to everyone else or else we know each other. The girl’s aunt called me and I know she was looking for words of comfort. I tried to console her as the best as I could. But that school shooting had opened up old wounds for me and the words became very difficult to find. She asked if I could come and spend some time with her today and I am going. Her aunt is a good friend and you don’t desert your friends in their time of need. The story for her aunt only gets sadder. A little over a year ago, her husband passed away. I comforted her and consoled her during that. She told me that I was her rock and she couldn’t have made it through her husband’s passing without me. This rock is crumbled. I know there will be questions and I don’t know if I have the answer for those questions. The biggest question will be, why did this happen? Why was my baby girl taken from me? How do you answer those questions. These are all good people, why did it have to happen to them, that is the question that keeps going through my head. I know you have probably seen the candle light vigils on TV but the people who lost their children and those in critical condition are in a way angry at God right now. I can understand that completely. If I was in their shoes, I would be angry at the world. Most of the times the words come easily for me but not today. I dread going to the aunt’s house. I dread going to the prayer vigil. I dread the moments the aunt will turn to me for comfort. The only words I can think of is that there is pure evil in this world. The Divine creates us in Her own image and gives us freewill. Freewill is one of the greatest gifts she gives us. But there are those among us that cannot handle freewill. How some people use that freewill is different from others. I don’t know if they are born with an evil seed or something in their environment pushing them towards evil. But when that evil is released no good can come from it. When the evil is released, killing like we saw yesterday occur. We must mourn the lost of our loved ones and then we have to stand strong against that evil. For that is the truest test, standing strong when the world seems it has taken everything from you. If you don’t, the madman who took your loved one wins. You have to stand strong so that doesn’t happen, you mourn, you miss them but you must go on with life as they would have wanted you too. You have to live your life in their memory and their honor. The pain will be unbearable at times and I don’t lie, I have lost too many. But it does ease some. You have good days and you will have bad days. On those bad days, imagine your loved one, how they loved you and they wouldn’t want you to be upset and crying over their loss. I believe the answer to that question is no, they wouldn’t. Even though they were taken in such a violent way and before their time, they would want you to continue living your lives in their honor and their memory. Most of all remember, they are no longer on this plane but they are now in a much better place. A place were there is no pain, no suffering, just love. Love of the purest form. We all have the promise of one day we will be reunited with the ones we have lost. Think of that day, live for that day. When you are at your lowest, call their name. They will come and you will feel their presence. Their love for you will last an eternity and as long as you keep them in your hearts, they will always be with you. You never know what to say, sometimes words are not needed, just being there is enough. I am sincerely hoping that is the case today. I would ask that you say a prayer for the Holt family and the Cope family as they go through this very difficult time. Pray that the Divine gives them comfort and strength. Pray for those at Vanderbilt Hospital, that they will make a speedy recovery. Pray for all those who had to witness the horror of yesterday. No one should ever have to witness a thing such as those young people had too. Help them deal with every emotion they are feeling. Pray for us all in the days ahead. Pray that I can find the words to comfort a grieving family. Remember my dear, sweet family, hug your children and your loved ones tight and long every day. 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mbakeruk · 6 years

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Birth Story: 13-14th December 2017

(Orla Alice Baker 8lbs 9oz)

Apart from the obvious miraculous end product – I don’t think anyone has got a positive and uplifting tale to tell about the labouring process. Despite feeling a degree of calmness there was certainly feelings of trepidation on the morning of Wednesday 13th December 2017 – our induction. Of course, you never truly know when your special little one will decide to check out of its cosy hotel and enter the scary new world, but her eviction notice had been served.

Wednesday 13th started off as any normal day – well, as normal as it had been for the last 9 months. Sam was up first, bright and early, and on the hunt for breakfast. Whereas, I would stay in bed for as long as possible, clutching onto any sleep I could get my hands on before it became a distant memory. Feeling somewhat fresh and chipper, all things considered, we made our way to the Princess Anne Hospital to be induced. We had discussed induction on a couple of occasions and were keen to avoid the drip. Instead, we were hoping to get a pessary, so we could come home and attempt to relax. Yet, the reality was that we would be at the mercy of the induction nurses. An underfunded and understaffed induction team finally saw us at 11 am, an hour after our original appointment. Both girls checked out fine and they agreed that the pessary and a bit of home time would be the best plan. What a result. We even started planning where to go for lunch. However, not only was our little one late but she also decided to not play ball. We ended up waiting there for hours for her heart rate to stabilise within the appropriate ranges. First, it was too high, then it was too low. But finally, still reeling after missing the opportunity for lunchtime pancakes, we were able to head home about 4:30pm.

We arrived home around 5pm, and inevitably my first thoughts were of food. Having been out all day, we didn’t have much in the way of quick and easy dinners. At this stage Sam started to feel occasional discomfort, so I suggested a walk to the local shop to pick up some dinner. This 10-minute walk turned out to be far more challenging than first expected. Not only was Sam finding it difficult to walk, but the pizza we picked up was bang average. In spite of this, it turned out that we had timed our walk to perfection, as not long after we had eaten things really started to ramp up. With episodes of “Would I Lie To You?” from the iPlayer on in the background – we went about timing Sam’s contractions and staying as relaxed as possible. I am obviously no expert, but the contractions appeared to be quite close together, and were causing some considerable discomfort. Something I was not expecting until much later on in the labour. Following orders, I fetched the tens machine and after what felt like a lifetime, I removed all its packaging. Luckily once it was in place it appeared to do its job and give Sam a small but welcome dose of relief. Things continued to escalate, but it wasn’t until Sam struggled upstairs for a pee that I knew we needed to get out of here. Sam attempted a conversation with Labour Line, whilst I got our things together, ready for a rapid departure. We got the green light from Broadlands, so we left the soothing Welsh tones of Rob Brydon behind, struggled into the car and headed off. I was under no illusion of the extreme importance of the situation, but I was also secretly quite pleased that we left 20 minutes before the full-time whistle at St. Mary’s, missing the mass exodus of football traffic. A small victory I know, but at this stage I’ll take it.

So, this was it. We were at the hospital, Sam was having regular contractions and everything we had read, learnt and been told over the last 9 months were about to come to fruition. At about 10:30pm our midwife assessed Sam and much to our amazement discovered that she was only 2-2.5cm dilated. Sam's discomfort was increasing but as a first-time mum, the midwives warned us a long, drawn out labour was the most likely outcome. So, they politely suggested heading home so that we would be around home comforts rather than spending hours waiting in a hospital. We went for a walk to discuss our options and cool off as the room was insanely toasty. I say a walk, it turned out to be more a crawl for Sam, as every crippling contraction rendered her to the floor. After helping her back to our room and informing them that we weren’t going anywhere, we were left alone to wait it out. Not long after, another contraction hit. But this one was different to all the previous ones. Rather than calmly breathing through it – Sam very dramatically declared that she really needed a poo. Dreading any impending catastrophe, I helped her off the bed and we ambled our way to the toilet. I was fully prepared to deal with my new born child’s poo-nami’s but not my wife’s! Full of anxiety, I waited outside the door, reassuring her to keep breathing every time I heard her in discomfort. A few ladies nearby looked over mildly concerned as I lingered outside a ladies’ toilet. Next, came an anguished cry for help. I sprung into action and sprinted over to the nearby midwife office. A manoeuvre that any Casualty actor would have been proud of – which for the record was surprisingly difficult on the polished floor. I won’t lie, at this stage I thought she was overreacting. We had accepted the fact that we were still in the early stages of labour. So I was gearing up for the midwives to dismiss us and tell us there was nothing to worry about. But credit where credit is due – Sam was not overreacting. They helped her back to the room as she yelled “I’m shitting myself, I’m shitting myself!” down the corridor, much to the amusement of various onlookers. We entered the room and she immediately get on down on all fours over the swissball. At this point, all three midwives were momentarily taken aback before announcing, “ah there she is, we can see a head”. Incredibly this labour had gone from 0-60 in no time at all. It was too late for pain relief, it was too late to run the birthing pool, and it was too late to basically do anything we had in the birthing plan – because it was happening, and it was happening right now.

With Sam slumped over the ball and me on my knees taking up my position of chief cheerleader, Sam started to push. I tried to negotiate the filling of the birthing pool asap but there really wasn’t the time. As the contractions kept coming, so did the unrecognisable noises and groans coming from my wife. Each one louder and more intense, yet I retained a sense of helplessness. Reassurance, light massage and support my only weapon, felt like bringing cotton wool to a gun fight. Sam kept pushing. Before we could get our head around what the hell was happening we were one final push away from meeting our little girl. With one final scream/groan/shriek she made her way out into the midwifes arms. Our beautiful daughter Orla Alice Baker was born.

Modern society has arguably been guilty of building a picture that the birth of your child is some euphoric, transcendent moment in time. There are elements of truth of in this and seeing your child taking their first breath is incredible. But labour is tough. Its gruelling and draining for everyone involved. If I am honest, those first few moments after she was born saw me far more concerned with her welling being and the wellbeing of my heroic wife. I had just witnessed my wife scream in agony for the last 40 minutes. I wasn’t ready to let my guard down yet and immerse myself in the true beauty of the event. I still had to make sure my girls came through this ordeal fit and healthy as possible. This is by no means to say I was not touched by this special moment. Holding her for the first time, and seeing her open eyes and look at me, even if she was doing her best Popeye impression are moments I will never forget. But unfortunately, we weren't out of the woods yet.

Due to the speed of the birth, Sam required a bit of aftercare. It was at this moment they decided to bring out the gas and air. Don’t ask me where this was hiding 40 minutes ago but at least it was here now. Making up for lost time, Sam proceeded to go to town on the newly acquired pain relief and in no time, was as high as a kite. We shared a laugh together as one of the midwives nonchalantly told her she was going to stick her finger up her bum. Something that provided us a much-needed piece of comic relief. Despite Sam’s battle wounds not too severe, the recovery procedure provided some complications. It was at this exact tense moment that Orla welcomed her Mummy with the biggest black, tary poo I have ever seen. I still can’t comprehend how much poo could have been hiding in such a small little creature. Sensing a growing anxiety in the room I held back the laughs as much as I could. It was clear to see that the recovery process was causing Sam significant pain – which culminated in her bravely sobbing despite her intoxication. I had a distraught child and a distraught wife, and I felt utterly helpless towards either of them. I had to decide which one to console - a decision I hope I never have to make again.

The aftercare took much longer than the whole time Sam spent pushing. Once this traumatic ordeal was over Sam finally got to the use the birthing pool – just not in the way we had originally intended. After a much-needed soak she went to get out but came across all dizzy and weak. I helped her out, sat her down and went to get some assistance. I must have left the room for no more than 5 seconds, but as we turned back in she was slumped in the chair, out cold. Luckily, nothing a bit of Lucozade and some toast couldn’t sort out. She was exhausted. I was so proud of her, but she had done her shift – sleep and rest was the number one priority now. At about 6am they wheeled both my girls off to the ward, I gathered up our things, and that was that. A huge come down after a highly emotive 10 hours or so. It was at this moment that I felt incredibly vulnerable. Sam had been so brave and strong throughout and I couldn’t have asked any more from her. But she was done. My teammate in all this and let’s face it, the main star of the show was physically and mentally spent. I was on my own. I wanted to help them and be there for them so badly, but my only option was to go home. It went against every natural instinct in my body. How could I just abandon them? I reluctantly returned home to the scene of the crime to find the house littered with the remanence of the night before. Massage oil, medication, tens machine packaging all over the place. It looked so peaceful – a far cry from the previous evening. For the next couple of nights as I stayed at home on my own. I felt incredible sleep guilt. I could sleep as long as I wanted whilst I knew Sam would be relentlessly disturbed every hour or so. Each morning I woke refreshed wishing I could trade places with her.

Throughout the whole process I had an overriding feeling of helplessness. I had experienced some of the best and worst moments of my life in one action packed evening. Labour is as far away from sexy as you can get, yet I had never felt so attracted and close to Sam as I did that night. I will never forget the sacrifice she made for both of us and I could not be prouder of her. I’ve tried to avoid clichés, but I guess despite all this – it was totally worth it.

#birthstory #childbirth #baby #pregnancy #firsttimeparent #labour and delivery #nhs #babydaddy #southamptonbaby #life changing #9 months later

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michelleinaba-english-blog · 6 years

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A Community Impact group sends Columbia students overnight to staff two Upper West Side homeless shelters weekly. The shelters need one volunteer every night to stay open.

MICHELLE INABA MOCARSKI

Columbia Daily SpectatorMarch 2, 2012, 7:51am

http://spc.columbiaspectator.com/2012/03/02/staffed-students-homeless-shelters-stay-open

When Henry Zhang, CC ’12, arrived at the Stephen Wise Free Synagogue Next Step Men’s Shelter on Wednesday night, volunteers had finished preparing dinner, and music was being played on the upper floors of the synagogue. The guests were about to arrive, and Zhang was there to stay the night as a volunteer.

“The first time I was here I was kind of nervous and shy,” Zhang said. But “they did their thing and it was very pleasant and easy going,” he said.

Zhang is a student volunteer with the Community Impact group Project for the Homeless, which provides volunteers for two Manhattan homeless shelters, both of them near Lincoln Center: the Stephen Wise Free Synagogue shelter, a men’s shelter, and the New York Society for Ethical Culture, a women’s shelter.

“It’s not dangerous, and it’s not scary,” Dane Cook, CC ’12 and PFH’s chief executive coordinator, said.

New York state law requires homeless shelters to have a non-homeless supervisor on the premises during all hours when the shelter is open. The Project for the Homeless group helps shelters stay open each night by recruiting Columbia and Barnard students to be those supervisors.

“They have to have someone there. If a volunteer doesn’t show up or if they don’t have a volunteer, they have to close the shelter for the night,” Cook said.

HIGH-IMPACT VOLUNTEERING “It’s a different kind of volunteering because, as Dane says, it’s high-impact,” Zhang said. “Just by being here, you’re helping the shelter to stay open.”

Sometime last semester, Zhang realized that he was going to graduate without having done much volunteer work while at Columbia. He found Project for the Homeless through Community Impact’s website.

“I really didn’t know what to expect because I haven’t actually volunteered at a homeless shelter before, and in my mind I expected something like a huge room, with lots of beds next to each other,” Zhang said. “But this area is really small and very nice, too,” he added.

Students usually arrive between 7 p.m. and 8 p.m., when the synagogue volunteers are about to leave. All they have to do is be there—the shelter provides them with a private bedroom and bathroom, and they can spend the night studying, doing homework, or even sleeping. Lights go out at 11 p.m., and everyone wakes up at about 5:30 a.m.

“This type of shelter model is that the people who stay there are invested in the shelter, so they all have chores that they do, which means our volunteers do very little,” Cook said. “Our volunteers are the living, breathing person who’s there just to be there.”

Student volunteers can talk to the homeless men and women as much or as little as they want.

“Whatever you are comfortable with doing,” Cook said. “But I really enjoy talking to them because it kind of gives me a dose of reality you don’t get at Columbia.”

‘SOME KIND OF HOPE’ Stephen Wise Free Synagogue’s shelter hosts about 10 people at a time, most of whom are returning guests and all of whom must be pre-screened for tuberculosis and drugs.

The two shelters served by PFH are both considered transitional shelters by the city, because they serve people who are in the process of getting public housing. The shelters provide them with showers, as well as dinners prepared by synagogue volunteers.

Cook said that based on his experience, the shelter’s guests average between 20 and 35 years old, and come from all walks of life.

“Generally, the population is black and Latino, but not always, not necessarily,” Cook said.

According to Cook, there are several reasons that people take refuge in shelters like these two.

“They are not the people that you normally think when you think of homelessness in New York,” he said. “These are people who are working on not being homeless. They are real people. They have jobs. They have lives. They have fallen under harder circumstances,” he said.

That’s what happened to Ginyar Ejiofor, 28, who was at the synagogue shelter on Wednesday night. Ejiofor moved to New York from Florida in search of new job opportunities, but he was also drawn by the city’s culture and the possibility of finding love.

“Pretty much employment opportunities, just life in general,” Ejiofor said when asked why he had moved to New York. “Employment opportunities, love—because of my own sexual orientation—culture here, just events in so many different areas.”

Ejiofor worked in retail and in journalism, but things started to change when he lost his job and was diagnosed with depression.

“Depression led to substance use, lack of motivation, and I guess, at the end, total isolation,” he said.

Ejiofor is still looking for a job, and he keeps himself busy by writing and blogging about fashion and life. He’s now in his second week at the shelter, and he said he appreciates the volunteers’ work.

“I know I’m not at the best situation, but it makes it a lot easier and manageable. And it’s really uplifting,” he said. “There’s a clean environment that I can come to, and it’s safe, and it’s warm ... So it’s a kind of recharge.”

Although Ejiofor’s situation is harsh, he hasn’t lost hope.

“In terms of motivation, I am more than I can see,” he said. “My existence is my validation. Can I do this? Can I kinda survive from this? And the answer is yes, because I’m still here. So, there is some kind of hope.”

‘NOTHING IN STORE’ The search for a better life is also what holds Alex, 29, in New York City. Alex, who was staying at the synagogue shelter Wednesday night, suffers from schizoaffective disorder, a psychiatric condition which combines schizophrenia and mood problems.

Alex, who did not want to give his last name, said he thinks that being in his hometown, Lancaster, Pa., worsens his condition.

“While I was there, I was in psychosis the whole time,” Alex said. “When I came here, the psychosis cleared up.”

Before being diagnosed, Alex worked for over a year as an English teacher in Korea. Upon returning to the United States, he got diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder and took a job as a waiter in a golf club in Pennsylvania. He believes he moved to New York because of the mental issues this caused him.

“I came here with no plans, nothing in store,” he said.

Alex currently works 20 hours a week for the city’s meals-on-wheels program, delivering meals to clients. He has been living at the homeless shelter for four months, but he does not plan to move back to his parents’ home in Pennsylvania.

“No, I’m not going back there,” he said.

‘A GREAT REALITY CHECK’ Both Cook and Zhang described volunteering with PFH as a very positive experience.

“Someone needed to be there for that shelter to be open that night for those guys to sleep in beds, under a roof, for the night,” Cook said. “And somebody has to do it.”

Cook also said he has learned from his experiences. Once, he said, a guest told him his life story, making a particular point to tell him to stay in school.

“When a homeless person is telling you very earnestly, ‘Stay in school and work hard in school,’ it’s such a great reality check,” Cook said.

The next morning, that guest offered to buy him a cup of coffee from a street cart.

Cook said he found himself in a moral dilemma: “Do I accept this person’s gift, who’s definitely in a tighter circumstance than myself? Do I accept him buying me coffee? Or do I say ‘Oh, no,’ because obviously I can pay for my coffee?” Ultimately, Cook decided it was appropriate to accept the coffee.

“The reason I think he wanted to buy me a cup of coffee ... was that he was really grateful for what the shelter provided for him, and he was really thankful for the volunteers that came down,” Cook said. “He liked meeting the Columbia kids who came down to volunteer.”

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heidigital-blog · 7 years

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Inspirational People

Aida Hubanic

Monday morning at Laurea Otaniemi started out with an inspirational and emotional presentation of Aida Hubanic and her life story all the way from Sarajevo. It was all about world of marketing and technology and “unshakable possibilities and self-management”. She had participated in this revolutionary Game Jam and won the 1st prize, an awarded trip to Barcelona, via educational games application idea! Her idea, Hungry cells, to help children to make healthier choices in life via virtual games, was interesting and really uplifted her uniqueness to create games, even though she stated that this is not an area she is actually interested at all. Talk about stepping away from comfort zones! I do agree with her mindset, how using bloggers is nowadays an effective way of marketing or promoting things and how developing an idea into potentially innovative solution around specific themes are truly what creative business is all about. I remember our self-management virtual course last semester, it was filled with very beneficial links and inspirational reading which I think Aida’s story would fit perfectly. Without a doubt one of the best courses I have taken in Laurea, for I love independent reading and writing. Self-management is important, that was something that her presentation was giving answers to.

There was one Powerpoint slide about motivational killers; negative mind set and comparing yourself to others, these are in my opinion the most common ones. When Aida talked about brainstorming, I also came to think of great memories from our project to Citycon where teams gathered together to find some useful, innovative ideas and even the sky wasn’t the limit to the creativeness shared in the class. The importance of great pitching is also a talent that one can practice to master. I was overwhelmed with happiness when me and my fellow classmate Oliver won the best pitch of one of our teamwork project; before this successful three minutes’ performance I thought we had enough material for a gag reel, but that was obviously essential, to be able to perform a quality show in a strict schedule. Turns out if Aida Hubanic is an inspiration seeker, she has all the potential in the world of being an inspiration herself, so many thoughts raised during her presentation.

Here’s a link to her story told by APU magazine.

Sani Leino

On Wednesday, me and my fellow classmates attended Easyfairs Shop eCommerce 2017 trade and it was all about networking and learning. We were in a bit hurry to get to listen one of the best Finnish performers, Sani Leino, Sales and Marketing specialist from ThingLink, talking about “Chats, Social Media and VR – the marketplace for the future”. He talked about how the chat-like social medias will be on the rise the fastest (e.g. We Chat in Asia), how 83% of the information shared online is eventually private and introduced us an application called Franz. I installed it and oh, how much easier my SoMe usage has become. I use chats (WhatsApp and Messenger) quite a lot myself, it’s so easy via the internet connection instead of just regular messages. Sani made it clear that Artificial Intelligence and bots will be hot topic in the future businesses, as they already are. For example, an eService called KIKKA from Lassila&Tikanoja helps customers to decide where to put their waste, if hesitating. Awesome way of bringing the service straight to customers when in need. KLM on the other hand is taking things to a whole other level when it’s now possible to have your flight tickets and check-in done in Messenger. I have only experienced chatting with Norwegian staff online, and for a moment it felt surreal, that if I have any questions about my flights or anything, there’s an actual person online to answer to me right away.

A great example also was Lemonade, insurance company, that will give you the insurance money in 3 minutes’ time, after you send a video call in their application to tell what’s wrong. It’s so common to break your phone’s screen that OP Pohjola for example doesn’t even require too much to prove that to be true. Tiitus – The tinder-like way for finding a job was also presented, very informative description of their services and I instantly linked other tinder-like applications in my mind to get a better picture. For example, Finnish innovative application called IVALO, is about swiping left and right for Finnish clothing and accessories. I had the opportunity to talk to the creators in Slush and they have found a perfect solution for all the shop-a-holics out there, also supporting local small companies to stand up even greater. Their next goal is to conquer the Spanish markets, best of luck with their assertive business development!

Leino made great explanations of AR, VR and mixed reality definitions and their importance. Voice controlled effective working and how the world around you will turn into user interface were really interesting! Future teaching possibilities in schools and universities are endless if you take a look at the AR glasses only. For medical students around the world to be able to study in a whole other level or for the history teacher to re-create historical platforms for students, or in the court room to have the possibility to see the evidence and the actions take place, to add 1 + 1 in a case with multiple stories that differ. Of course, there was a small sample of an option that ThingLink offers; if you have taken a 360-photo and 10minutes time, you are capable of creating your own online shop. A small shoutout for Mr. Leino’s new book, “Viiden tähden asiakaskokemus” (A five-star customer experience) that will definitely be something to seek inspiration from when available in stores, especially if the ultimate customer service is something one graves to master.

Here is a link to Medium, find out more about digital marketing and social media trends

Here is a short video of whale hologram to represent the Augmented Reality Leino had a screenshot of in his presentation.

Jonas Heinonen & Tom Backman

These performers (CEO and co-founder) were presenting us Boomerang distribution company. This was very informative for our project for SSM/Lisäduuni is kind of alike. Boomerang is a distribution company, that takes care of the import, customers and warehousing to name a few. They have spread their business around Nordic countries all the way to European and US markets, based in Tallinn. Their statistics stated that the US has the largest number of customers, following Sweden, South-Korea etc. Their aim is to cut the number of manual points and via Unifaun it is possible to bind it all together. Notable customers they have are are BlackEye clip-on optical lens, Swedish fashion company and Nelly.com (3 million return items per year gets through) and Sudio-named high end electronics company. Boomerang connects distribution route daily from Tallinn to Helsinki. B2B and B2C play a vital role in this simple, yet clever company.

Not to blow pass my love for food, I decided to check the Fastfood & Café area as well. It was easy to attend, since I was in the company of my male classmates who also happen to be fond of food;)

Me and fellow digital bloggers (Ilari and Ville) sharing some tastings:

Me and other notable digibloggers, Joel and Sten, exploring Messukeskus

Kateline Porritt & Tuure Parkkinen

These performances are related to digital business in the matter of digitalization as a hot potato also in the restaurant business. Kateline Porritt is a Food and Beverage Trends Writer for thefoodpeople, who talked about the trends occurring in restaurant business. “In a world of increasing overload of information and rapidly changing and demanding consumer behaviors & attitudes it’s increasingly complex to stay relevant to today’s customer.” According to a little research on my own, there will be: more delivery services and high-tech cooking equipment, increasing popularity of probiotics and minerals, vivid colors (matcha buns, algae lattes, black bread!) and exotic flavors all around, more importance on food delivery access, embracing the plant based and vegan eating, non-alcoholic offering and reusing food waste to create new dishes.

The last one brings me to Tuure Parkkinen, CEO and Founder of ResQ Club Oy. It is an application that allows you to purchase and pick up food from listed restaurants and cafés near you, in ridiculously low prices after lunch hour. I have installed it and it has been the savior for many hungry evenings. Edible food does not end up in trash and all due to technology, I get a low-price quality food to go! Fantastic! Besides these two notable performances, there were numerous of stands that we visited and tasted their delicious foods and beverages. My favorite restaurateur Richard McCormick was also performing but I was at the eCommerce stage, too bad!

This is a screen capture of the application Resque Club.

The thing that caught my eye was the Touch & Collect -option in the Easyfairs entrance pass. I managed to gather all the info from my day just touching the reader sign in my pass, green light is on and one can hear a “beep”. After the fair, I got an email about all the interesting companies, that I clicked my pass by. Talk about digiservices!

After the eCommerce fair I went to Hard Rock Café to an event called “Somedrinkit” and spent 2 hours socializing and networking with the legal field experts. I attended the Legal Design Summit few months ago, and this was great continuance for broadening my knowledge in the future of combining design and legal matter.

Next week I will be attending Helsinki Megaspeaker Event, where I’m looking forward to meet JT Foxx, an entrepreneur who’s newest passion is his work with various children’s hospitals. Very much into charity work myself, ready to get inspired! I’m going to end my blog with a quote from him; “--Everything in life happens because you took action.--”

#eCommerce #CustomerService #Inspiration

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