Broken Willow

About a year ago I gave my last update on the Victoria Park homeless encampment. At that time, the city had developed a new shelter option and was planning to renovate the island on which the residents were living. They had put up barricades around the two bridges connecting it to the rest of the park with guards protecting each entrance 24/7. They were admiting previous residents of the encampment but denied entry to newcomers.

A single woman held out long past everyone else. For months, she was guarded by two people around the clock and had sole rights to the island. She was a bit of a local celebrity. Eventually she did move out, and they've been working on the place over the summer to open it back to the public.

Last week we heard that the day had come and we went over to see how it looked. Nothing too different from before the encampment. There was the old gazebo, ornamental cannon, gardens... And then I saw this

For my job, during some of the partial lockdown measures in the pandemic, we hosted a park group. One day when I was facilitating, we saw the broken remains of an old tree. I reflected with the group on how much longer the tree had lived than any of us, how many things must have happened throughout its life, and how we were seeing the end of a very long story.

Well, this was that tree! I think it's a willow. It's been busy during the encampment and renovations! You can see where the thick stump stops abruptly, and it's now growing new branches and leaves.

Earlier this year, I read a book called The Hidden Life of Trees. Apparently trees communicate with each other through a fungal network attached to their roots, and they are able to transfer each other nutrients. They will do this even at the cost of their own resources in order to maintain a canopy, which is vital for the ecosystem. They will share with weaker trees and rivals. Sometimes they will even give nutrients to the bodies of passed relatives, with seemingly no other motivation than sentimentality.

Apparently trees are social creatures, and city-grown ones suffer from social isolation. They often never learn to talk or trade. I would assume this to be the case for the park's trees, but as we see here, this one is making a comeback despite the fact it was rendered completely defenseless. It's neighbours must have intervened!

Obviously this tree isn't forming a canopy with anyone. Willows are considered pioneering species, moving far away from their parents. Usually they're relatively solitary. Yet, this one still shares a root system and it must have been talking to its peers.

While we were taking pictures of the tree, some guy approached us and asked us to take a picture of him with it. He did kind of a silly pose, sticking his foot out over the river with his mouth agape. He was pretty particular about how it was taken and we went through several rounds. Then, he wanted to take a picture of me doing the same pose.

It crossed my mind that he was going to steal my phone. He was talking fast, building legitimacy by starting with the request being for him, scrutinizing the photos, and eventually creating a situation where I hand my own phone to him and put space between us.

I was intrigued enough by how much energy he was putting out that I just went along with it. Somehow, he was legit. Took the photo and handed it back to me. Apparently he just wanted me to promote his artisty over social media. I guess sharing it on here kind of counts.

Never got his name so I can't give a shout out, but this was the pic he took:

I told Lee-Anne afterward that I'd thought he was going to steal the phone and she said she hadn't "got that vibe" from him.

On the other side of the island, we discovered another example of a tree with a similar disposition to the newly rejuvenated willow.

Even before the reopening of the island, I had an inkling that the trees in the park were a bit more talkative than you might assume. Earlier this year while walking through a different part of the park I noticed this

I think this is a cedar tree. Clearly, at some point it had fully been toppled to the ground, broken at its base. However, it has since closed its wounds, redirected its branches and grown new leaves. In the book, it refers to conifers as being "staunch perfectionists" that maintain posture even at the cost of their own lives, unlike deciduous trees which are more willing to bend as the need arises. He only gave examples of firs, spruce, pine, and larches though. Maybe cedars are a bit more adaptable.

We also saw a cool stump. I've been reminded recently that trees offer life-giving resources long past the end of their lives. Here is an example of one that's been felled but continues to give back through its remains

Back when I was a child, I was enamoured with the concept of the "forest spirit". Even as an adult, I would kind of scoff at city trees for not fulfilling their function of supporting this manifestation. I preoccupied myself with coming up with definitions for forests, and how big one needed to be to facilitate its own spirit.

After reading The Hidden Life of Trees, I've gained a bit more compassion for city trees. The author refers to them as traumatized due to being raised in areas where they don't experience the mentorship of old growth, and simultaneously being spoiled and neglected through human care. But a traumatized individual still has value. Often city trees are doing their best given the circumstances, and even if they're not as loud as their forest contemporaries, they sometimes do talk. Just a little quieter.

Accidentally Joining Social Movements

Food prices in Ontario are soaring. I mentioned this in a previous post that I'd made about a giant sandwich. Lee-Anne had requested it, but I was hesitant because as a story, it didn't seem to have much meat (unlike the sandwich, haha). However, some of the commentary about food prices have aged well as a reference point.

In that post, the surprisingly cheap giant sandwich came from Sobeys, and the novelty came from the fact that a purchase of such good value could come from a place that is otherwise ludicrously pricey. This is because Sobeys is owned by a mega corporation named Loblaws which owns most of the major grocery outlets across Canada.

Recently, people have started calling the company out for artificially inflating food prices. I'm not savvy enough with economics to say one way or the other, but my brother used to work for one of their branches and had many ugly stories about how they treated their employees. So while I can't confirm that they aren't doing their due dilligence to keep prices low, I can see that their reach is wide, that they are charging more than most smaller outlets, and I've got a soured opinion of their company culture.

It came to a point that people started calling for a boycott. This caught some speed, enough that the CEO started whining about it on Twitter. He complained that the amount their sales had gone down was the same percentage as people who vote NDP, Canada's left-of-Liberal party. He tweeted that it was a shame that people had to politicize everything, and that this was only harmful to Canada-based companies.

His complaint about their loss in sales matching the total NDP vote only makes sense if everyone who voted NDP was already buying from Loblaws, which would sort of be a self-tell on how they're running a monopoly. The comment about not supporting Canadian companies is also kind of rich coming from an organization that hasn't been supporting Canadian customers and has been crowding out other Canadian businesses.

Mostly, I find his commentary to be of little value. However, I do find it kind of weird to heard people participating in the Loblaws boycott have replaced them with Wal Mart. When did we stop hating Wal Mart?

Loblaws has made a bit of a comeback though. Recently, the LCBO (Liquor Control Board of Ontario) has called a strike due to our Premier's decision to cancel a contract and allow beer and wine to be sold through convenience stores.

I've heard our Premier Doug Ford called the "King Midas of Alcohol". Everything he touches turns to booze.  It was within my lifetime that we only had three outlets for alcohol: The LCBO, Beer Store, and Wine Store. You weren't allowed to sell alcohol in grocery stores, but some places had a wine store branching off. It wasn't Ford that put beer and wine into grocery stores, but he's followed the trend. One of his campaign promises was to deliver "buck-a-beer" pricing. Now he's paying big to sever a contract and get booze into convenience stores, and apparently he's trying to get scratch tickets sold in beer stores.

I don't think I'm morally opposed to convenience stores being able to sell alcohol, but it still feels like something no one was asking for, and the scratch ticket thing is creepy. There are a lot of things that need addressing right now, like low staffing in education and healthcare, so doubling down on making addictive products more accessible is a weird angle. Especially now when Canadian health care professionals have recently changed policy to say that there is no amount of alcohol that can be safely consumed.

Because grocery stores can sell alcohol, Loblaws is seeing a surge of former LCBO customers go to them. Some supporters of the LCBO are holding off, mostly as a show of solidarity against Ford.

During these boycotts, I've asked myself what my responsibility is as a consumer. After brief consideration, I realized that this doesn't effect me much personally. The grocery store nearest to us is independently owned, so I've already been passively boycotting Loblaws. And this whole LCBO thing was really perfectly timed, as I was planning on trying a month of sobriety already.

I love accidentally joining social movements.

Shawarma History in Belmont Village

My favourite food is shawarma, and in general dishes that bridge Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cuisine. Lebanon is my favourite food culture in the world, although I understand Turkey is very similar. Kitchener is a wonderful place to live for people with this opinion, as almost anywhere you go in the city, you'll find multiple options in this genre. Unfortunately, the specific area that we live in is a shawarma dry zone. We live near a place called Belmont Village, which is dedicated to local businesses and when we moved in, there were four bakeries, but no shawarma.

Eventually, after Big John's Subs changed location and left a spot vacant, a place called Sam's Shawarma decided to break the mould. I mentioned this briefly in a post after my diabetes diagnosis.  Sam's had announced their upcoming opening and I was being really strict with my diet at the time. I lamented the fact that I wouldn't be able to try it.

However, it took them awhile to get to opening day, and by then my health situation had changed a lot and I was more relaxed. Me and Lee-Anne got classic pita wraps as a control to test their skill. Unfortunately, it was probably the worst wrap job that I've ever seen. I could easily, easily have done a better job myself and I can't imagine that someone who had never made a wrap before could do worse. We chalked it up to early-day jitters, although they were several days in and it's probably the most common order.

We came back later and got platters, which were fine but surprisingly expensive. Despite serving my favourite food and being the only option for it in the area, I found myself having difficulty buying from them. I understand that small businesses often need to charge a bit more than chains, and prices of ingredients have skyrocketed. But still, there's a point where even with these things in mind, cost becomes a deterrant. If they had been a little cheaper or a little better, I might have been a regular.

They never posted a sign displaying their hours and it seemed kind of random. Eventually Google labled them as being open until 7:00, but there were a few times when me and Lee-Anne thought about getting dinner from them before then and they were closed. Builds a loss of trust.

They kept expanding the menu and trying different things, a common mistake of independently owned places. Typically, you should have a few standard options, maybe one thing that distinguishes your establishment, and something simple that goes against theme for picky eaters. I don't remember everything they tried but they introduced a few pita wrap alternatives. First they added saaj bread. This isn't unheard of and I'm kind of disappointed I never got around to trying it, but I just never trusted them to wrap anything again. Then they added durum wraps, which as far as I can tell is a flour used to make pasta? I couldn't find an example of anywhere else making durum-wrapped shawarma. I wonder if it really was like a pasta pita.

I'll never know because they shut down about a year later and were quickly replaced with Bossman Shawarma. At least one of the staff members retained her position. I know this because we recognized her when we went in the first time and she told us about how she was working at the old establishment when a car drove through their front window. It's not a large place so she would have been staring it right down. Terrifying

 When I first saw her, I wondered if the brief closure and change in names indicated a renovation and new branding rather than a change in ownership. But the employee talked about a new management with new goals, so I guess it was an actual new business.

Bossman's displayed a Ganesha statue at their cash register. For food options, outside of the standard shawarma and falaffel, they had butter chicken and tandoori. I guess an Indian owner decided that shawarma was more marketable in Kitchener than his home cuisine and opted to use it as the main selling point. Somewhat curious, as they were neighbours to Raja, an Indian sit down restaurant that has been around long before we moved into the area. Maybe they didn't want to be directly competing with them, but since Bossman's was fast food and Raja sitdown, it would have probably been fine.

One notable thing about Bossman's was that their falaffels were ENORMOUS. They were the size and shape of hamburger patties. I've never seen anything like it. I wasn't even sure if I enjoyed it or not, but it was interesting enough to bring me back several times.

Bossman also lasted about a year. Now we have Relish Shawarma. They don't stock the ingredient relish, so I suppose the name is for the descriptive, as in, to enjoy and savour shawarma. This time it doesn't appear that any of the workers from the previous establishment carried over. I feel bad for the one woman who managed to survive changes in ownership and a car driving through the store front.

Relish is owned by an Indian family, and so in addition to the usual options, they also have tandoori and Sikh kabob. They're about six months in and unfortunately appear to be having an identity crisis akin to Sam's, as they added Philly Cheesesteak.

They are really, really friendly. Like, almost to the point of intimidation. They made sure to get to know us, and the second time we went they were looking for tips on anything they could tweak or modify. Theoretically, I think it's good for businesses to learn about their customers and connect, but I'm not above this culture of isolation that we're in, and the prospect of making conversation can be a bit much when I just want to get food and get out.

One thing that is odd about them is their hours. One time, I got back home from out of town at like, 10:00 and noticed they were still open. They recently put a sign up with their hours, and apparently they're open until midnight every day, even Sunday. There are places where this makes sense, especially places with a party scene. In Guelph, there's a shawarma joint that closes in the evening and then reopens from like, midnight to 4 am or something like that. Pretty obviously for sloppy drunk University students coming back from the clubs.

But out neighbourhood really isn't that scene. We have a few bars but they mostly attract middle aged people that would probably just buy food wherever they're drinking.

Anyway, I do hope they are doing well because the people that work there are nice and their prices are a bit more reasonable. I think the tandoori platter is probably the best thing on their menu. They have fattoush salad, which I like and don't often see. But it's easy to imagine them falling to the same fate as their predecessors and that Philly cheesesteak addition feels like a move of desperation.

Maybe shawarma just can't survive here. Oh well, at least I have four options to buy luxury doughnuts from.

Five Years From First Date

Yesterday, July 8th, was the fifth year anniversary of mine and Lee-Anne's first date. We now have a wedding anniversary so we weren't sure if we were going to celebrate both. But five years is a nice and clean number so might as well.

We didn't do anything too unique, just revisited the place we had our first date, a bubble tea shop near the University of Waterloo. 

I have a blueberry milk bubble tea and she has a lyche one. On our first date I got mango and she had coconut with pineapple jellies. A chipmunk startled me by sticking its nose on my hand shortly after I took this photo.

I don't know if I've told this story on here, but five years ago I thought it would be crass to ask her out over Facebook, so I set up a time to meet and chat. After we'd had our drinks and had eaten our paninis, we were walking laps around the university as I steeled my nerves to ask her out. I finally popped the question, which surprised her as she thought we already were on one. 

Despite the second date being the first one where we were both knowingly dating, we count it from the July 8th bubble tea shop.

Whenever there's some kind of romantic occasion and we're lacking creativity, we get bubble tea. It is, I guess, our signature romantic beverage. Along with sunflowers it's pretty high up as a symbol for our relationship.

Speaking of sunflowers, I've had no luck with them this year. I planted a bunch that never came up. I planted a second batch and a bunch of sprouts grew that looked kind of right, but became increasingly disappointing as they slowly revealed themselves to just be weeds. In a final attempt, I bought a 12 pack of jiffy pots and put them on the window sill in our office, one of the few places the cats can't get to.

Eventually, exactly one sprouted. I don't know why it's been such a good year for vegetables but so bad for flowers. None of our wildflowers came in either, which I thought would be the easiest thing we did.

Yesterday I deemed the little sprout ready to be transplanted into the garden. I admit, it may have been ready a day or two earlier but the symbolism of planting it in celebration of five years together was too good to pass up. It was looking pretty strong today, having reoriented itself to face the sun. Hopefully it does okay when it has to deal with the tail end of Hurricane Beryl tonight. Hard introduction to the real world, little sunny.

In these past five years, we moved into where we're currently living. Her from her parents' place and me from my old bachelor's pad. She got her job at the CNIB. We got married. She's had prolonged stays in the hospital twice for observation of her epilepsy. One done over the skull, and one under.

A few days ago, Lee-Anne finally got the report for her intra-cranial examination. It turns out that she has insular, not left temporal epilepsy as she had been previously diagnosed.

This means they were able to pinpoint the location of her seizures as coming from the insula, a part of the brain set just beneath the left temporal lobe. Tomorrow, July 10th, a panel of doctors are going to come together and discuss potential treatment options. Then they'll schedule an appointment with us and we'll talk about steps forward. No clue what the timeline for that will look like, though.

Brandy the Cat

I spent Father's Day weekend in Brampton at Lee-Anne's parents' place. In addition to her father, all three of her brothers are fathers, so they have a lot to celebrate. They hosted a get-together on Sunday, but on the Saturday I, as well as my mom, visited Toronto and saw my granddad.

He's in a section of his retirement community that offers more advanced care. In addition to the human residents, Brandy lives there

My mom had told me about her, but this was the first time I'd met her. Apparently she sits in the window in Granddad's room. He was never a big cat lover, but growing up, our cats always loved him. There's a joke about how they always gravitate toward the person that doesn't like them. I suppose the pattern continues.

When I'd first heard of Brandy, I was surprised that a cat was allowed to roam the residence. It seems like allergies are consistently a concern. For a place with consistent turnover of often medically fragile residents and such an alert staff, it seemed a weird setting for a cat.

I asked my oma if allergies were ever a concern and she gave a few examples of people being unable to host events at places that Brandy frequents. I mentioned that I was surprised they were allowed to have a cat at all, and she said that I'd be surprised at how many of the residents owned cats, and that Brandy's owner had passed away. I asked who was taking care of her now, and Oma speculated on a few of the people who live in the area.

This surprised me for a few reasons. Firstly, that a resident owned Brandy and not the staff. For some reason I thought she was there for some official function, like being a mouser or to improve mental health. Secondly, it didn't sound like she presently had a primary caregiver. I got the impression that someone moved to the section for higher support needs and when that happened, her cat moved with her. Since that area is so much more open, Brandy was able to roam freely to other peoples' rooms. After her owner's passing, she functionally became a street cat of the retirement home.

My granddad and Oma live in a pretty swanky place. I can't imagine the staff have just overlooked Brandy. In fact, from what my oma said, it sounds like they've changed some meeting locations for groups to accomodate Brandy's presence.

I'm not a hater. If they can have a cat, I think that's great. I love cats, and Brandy's a sweetheart. She doesn't seem to be wanting for anything. She's well fed to the point of being overweight, and Mom noted that someone had been brushing her. 

The setup just seems strange. But I've told several people about Brandy, and everyone seems to think this situation is normal. Brandy, an ownerless cat that lives in the section of a retirement home for higher support needs, living off the good graces of people in cognitive decline. 

A Person Wrapped In Sheets

Yesterday, me and Lee-Anne were coming back from a community barbecue and we walked by someone wrapped in sheets, lying with his face in a pool of viscous yellow fluid. His location seemed strategic, as it was beginning to rain and he was under a bus shelter, surrounded by bags filled presumably with his possessions. Kitchener has its share of homeless people, as I've explained in my posts about our two encampments. I generally don't like to draw attention to someone's struggles, but this guy seemed in an unusual state of disrepair. Lee-Anne asked if we should check in on him, and I agreed we should.

I asked him if he was okay. He said that he was cold and asked us to please help him. In my head, I inventoried what we were carrying to see if there was something we could give. We had leftover food from the barbecue, but no clothing or anything to help keep warm.

I asked him what his name was and he told me. I won't repeat it here. It was a common name, but in the off chance it could be identifying, I'll leave it out. I asked him if he needed to go to the emergency room. The bus shelter we were at was directly in front of a hospital. Seemed an opportune place to have a medical emergency.

He managed to say that he'd just come from there but they hadn't done much for him. He said he was thirsty and asked me to get a bottle of water from one of his bags. I took out the bottle and was going to hand it to him but he opened his mouth. So I unscrewed the cap and fed him the water by hand.

After several mouthfuls he vomited, the contents the same consistency as the fluid pooling around his head. He kept asking for help, for us not to leave him, and saying that he was cold. I told him that we didn't have anything that could warm him, and asked if he would be okay with one of us checking in at the emergency room. He agreed.

Lee-Anne went in while I stayed outside with him. When she returned, she said that they told her that he would have to either walk in or we would have to call 911. I remember this rule from when I went to the emergency room. Someone collapsed outside the door and a nurse told him he'd have to walk inside if he wanted help.

Seemed silly to call 911 directly outside the hospital but this guy was not going to be able to walk there himself, close as it was. Even with support, he seemed unable to endure it. We asked for his permission to call, and then we did. A paramedic showed up before we'd finished reporting his symptoms.

She questioned him a bit and we learned that he was suffering from withdrawal sympotms. This surprised me a bit, as I would have guessed that he was overdosing. After some persuading she was able to get him into a seated position and helped him put on a sweater. She also helped him drink some more water but he vomited it back up again. 

Another paramedic showed up and gave some background. Apparently he had been admitted to the ER but had been discharged after he became violent. They'd called the police but they never arrived, and they contacted several shelters but apparently he'd been kicked out of each of them for similar behaviour. 

Seeing the state he was in, it was difficult to imagine he'd been physically capable of violence earlier in the day, or of traveling to the emergency room in the first place. Eventually they agreed to send him to another hospital by ambulance.

That's it. That's the story. I don't really have deep insights or any kind of moral takeaway at the moment. We'll likely never know what his fate was, but I hope he doesn't get kicked out of that other hospital, because it sounded like the very last place willing to provide him care.

Occasionally it occurs to me that, living close to a hospital, we are in close proximity to a lot of human suffering and death. I remember seeing someone being wheeled out of an ambulance with paramedics applying chest compressions. Having my own First Aid training, I know that the chances of someone surviving after requiring that level of intervention are slim. Weird feeling to witness someone probably dying.

19 Days of Independent ADHD Living

When Lee-Anne was in the hospital for her intra-cranial observation for 19 days, I was left to my own devices. Between the two of us, she was in a much more uncomfortable position. Still, as someone with ADHD this was an opportunity to see if the independent living skills I'd acquired over the past few years would hold up without the presence of a partner. Results were a mixed bag.

As far as recreation goes, I wrote two main blog posts, as well as 1 recipe and 1 review. I didn't do any painting or reading though.

For health, I didn't do any strength work outs. I didn't even try. I figured I'd be challenged enough keeping track of things that it just wasn't a priority. Besides, me and Lee-Anne got into a bit of a routine together. It wouldn't be fair to her since she was confined to a hospital bed. I met my walking goal one week but not the other.

I surprised myself by doing well with dinners. Despite having a cooking blog, it wasn't originally a passion of mine. I used to put off eating until late at night, and then binge whatever would shut down the hunger pains quickest. My struggles with weight came from apathy toward food, not a love of it. Gryphood was a measure to make cooking more exploratory and interesting.

Lee-Anne's absence actually turned out to be an interesting opportunity to experiment with meals. I usually don't take too many risks when cooking for two, because if I take a chance and it doesn't pan out, I'll be making her suffer through the botched product. While I was alone, I got to do some stuff I wouldn't otherwise have tried. 

For example, I wanted to see how simple and easy I could make cream of broccoli soup without it losing its identity. I narrowed it down to only four ingredients: stock, milk, broccoli, and corn starch. It also didn't require many measurements, as it used a 1 litre milk carton and a tetra pack of stock. It tasted more like a warm green smoothie than a soup, and I wound up adding carrots, celery etc. the day after.

I also got another shot at making Philly cheesesteaks, which I'd done a subpar job with once before. For some reason, a lot of the things I wanted to experiment with were really dairy heavy.

We usually keep a weekly meal plan on a white board in the living room and I surprised myself by keeping up with it. However, while I did a decent job planning what I would eat, I didn't do as well with when. Usually we have dinner around 7:00, but while she was gone it would often take until 10:00 before I got around to it.

I was drinking too much at first, but corrected myself after a bit.

I did pretty well cleaning dishes and changing the cat litter. I didn't do either every day, but I didn't let things get too out of control either. I managed to take out the recycling and trash each week.

There were a few home projects that never seemed to get done while Lee-Anne was around, and her absence was frankly an opportunity to tackle them. I'd been meaning to season my pans since the new year and I finally did it. My cast iron stuff was easy, but I also have a weird steel wok that apparently needs to have it done as well. Because it has wooden handles, it has to be done on the stove top by rolling it around until each part of it turns dark. Very awkward and labour intensive. I'd done it once after we got it, but after rereading the instructions I realized I'd only seasoned the bottom last time. One coating took me several hours, and I was supposed to do it like three more times. I realized it would take the equivalent of a work day dedicated to only that one pan, and since it needs to be rolled around on the stove top it's not like you can ever leave it alone. So I figured it was fine with just one coat of seasoning.

There were a few decorations that we'd been wanting to put up, but Lee-Anne would overanalyze and talk us out of doing it. Sometimes it's easier to wait until she's gone and let her change things after the fact, which proved to be the case this time around.

One of the pieces was that thing we had at our wedding that everyone signed. It was sunflower themed.

The other thing I put up was a picture of Regensburg that my Great Grandfather brought from Germany

Apparently he worked for the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration in World War Two. He was Camp Director of a refugee camp, and this image depicts a place near where he stayed. It's an etching with watercolour applied over the print, done in 1940 before the town experienced any damage from bombing.

I also started our wedding album while she was gone.

As far as work goes, I forgot to set up an online meeting that I'm responsible for twice in a row. I forgot to fill out my timecards twice in a row as well. However, I actually corrected my punctuality a bit. My work starts at 8:30 for staff, but 9:00 for members.  Because there isn't much happening in that first half hour, and I think because my first position had 9:00 as the start time, it's been difficult to reprogram my brain to think I need to be at work for the earlier start time. While Lee-Anne was away, I put up a little calendar in my office and started recording the time I got into the building every day. I guess seeing the patterns in front of me had a good influence, because I have gotten a little better.

All in all, I managed to function. The place probably wasn't as tidy as usual, I forgot a few things, and I didn't get as much exercise. But I think I did a passable job of taking care of myself and I managed to take on a few initiatives that I probably wouldn't have done otherwise.