Aunt Sharon

I am not sure has ever lived a woman who had so much capacity to love and was loved by so many. While one might examine her life and focus on her struggles, when you were with her, one on and one, you never really felt them, even though over the last few years they were so visible. You just felt tremendous love from her.

Anytime you left my aunt Sharon’s house, it was like you received a love transfusion.

As her niece, whenever I doubted anything in life, especially myself, there was always one absolute truth: my aunt Sharon loved me. She thought I was beautiful. She told me every time I saw her.

When I was with my Aunt Sharon, I was a different kid. I wasn’t the serious book nerd/tomboy. She was the aunt that did my hair, (Princess Leah style for one of my brother’s bar mitzvahs) and painted my nails. She was the only person who could get me excited about my looks and jewelry.  I spent a lot of time at her house when I was a kid. A lot. We played a ton of cards. I drew a hundreds of pictures there. I jumped on the trampoline in the basement. I played with her dogs, even though now everyone knows I don’t really like dogs.  But I always liked Aunt Sharon’s dogs. Always. I played on her piano, and she enjoyed it, and told me I could keep playing, even though she needed to rest. With my aunt I did things that I never enjoyed doing and still don’t. However, when I was with her, it was fun: garage sales and flee markets.  Her excitement and her enthusiasm got me on board.

The only things she ever criticized were my nails and hair: "Mamashayna, don't chew your nails," she would say lovingly. I have curbed the habit and when she has seen me, she always comments.  For my hair she would say, "Mamshayna, why don't you wear your hair back, you have such a beautiful face, a shayna punim."

I don’t know why this is such a strong memory, but I remember when I was a teenager, I drove her in her van. It was incredibly hard to drive. I was really too small to be driving it, but she had absolute patience and plenty of laughter as I spent 45 minutes getting out of her garage.

I will really miss all of the Yiddish that she through into every conversation.  I’ll miss her singing. I’ll miss her love of off colored jokes.

 If you had to make a list of the people my aunt loved, it would be super long, including countless friends around the country. During the last few years, she even loved the people with whom she had previously feuded.

However, the list of people who loved her would be even longer.

But there would be asterisks for super-sized love for her kids, Ruth and David, their spouses, Rob and Elizabeth, and her six grandchildren, Samantha, Allison, Noah, Zachary, Brandon and Jeremy.   She really loved her first cousins. She would talk about them all of the time. She loved my brothers and their families. She loved my husband and daughter. She loved my husband the first time she met him. It was amazing. It was just instantaneous. I am so grateful that she met him and got to see me married and with a child. I know that was important to her and made her happy and relieved.

 The people though that I think she loved the most, besides her kids, were my mom and dad, especially my mom, who she referred to as her baby sister.

 I was lucky enough to Facetime with her last week.  We chatted and she saw Maya crawling around. I talked to her this week as well.  The last time I saw her, however, was the end of July. I had been home to South Bend quite a bit during the summer, because of the move to Israel. Before I left, she said, “Shayna Rana, don’t forget about me.”  I promised her that of course I wouldn’t. Then when Lior and I got into the car with Maya, I cried because I found it unbearable that she thought that I might.

But, what I think she was saying, even subconsciously, is don’t forget about her because that would the last time I would see her, hold her hand, tell her that I love her and she tell me that she loves me. She always made me kiss her on both sides of her cheek. 

One of the hardest parts of moving to Israel was leaving my nieces and nephew.  When my niece Talia was born 16 years ago, I promised I would be the same kind of aunt that my aunt Sharon was to me.  I definitely have not reached that bar. I lived on the same street at my aunt; she was a third mother to me. Now, not only do I not live on the same street at my nieces and nephew, I live across an ocean.

But I do think that they know, or they will know, that my love for them is absolute and unconditional, and always will be.

After all, I learned from the best. 

Another Facebook Crisis

I am over-commenting on Facebook. It’s an addiction. I can’t stop saying what I think about other’s people’s posts. I’ve always been a frequent Facebook poster and liker. Some people give me grief for that. Whatever, they can block me if they don’t like my posts.  But this over-commenting phenomenon started a couple of weeks ago when a colleague at school invited me to join an Israeli Babies group on Facebook for English speakers. 

I don’t know what’s come over me. The other day, when someone asked where they should have their three-year-old’s birthday party in Jerusalem, I made a suggestion. I have no business suggesting anything. I had never been to the kid portion of the place, nor do I have a three year old. Yes, I have two friends who I know from Facebook who have been there and seemed to like it (the pictures on Facebook looked good), but who am I to give it my seal of approval? And I think the woman is really going to go there with her child. Shit.  

 Here is a tiny picture from the web site of the birthday party place I recommended. I think those are remote control boats.

This addiction has now spread to giving advice on child rearing, of which again I have no true knowledge. Yes, I have a nine month old. However, I have not really read anything about raising a child. Occasionally I’ll ask her doctor, or a friend who is a doctor a question. Sometimes I open the email from Babycenter.com (found out today Goldfish crackers are not a good snack choice for your child). Really though, I have no business telling any mother anything. I had a new mom friend in Chicago who basically earned her PhD reading every baby book and attending numerous classes. She can comment with some authority. She can quote sources and compare and contrasts ideology.  So, here was my advice.  

Today someone wrote that their 18 month old isn’t sleeping through the night. I decided to comment, “Maybe you should check that he is meeting his nutritional needs? It might not be that, but it’s an easy place to start.”

What the hell do I know about toddler nutrition and its correlation to sleeping? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.  Yes, I maybe, and really maybe, found a pattern in my own daughter that if she doesn’t eat enough she doesn’t sleep enough. But I don’t actually know that. It’s just a guess. 

 

Someone asked about the pros and cons of swaddling. Tons of people answered. I didn’t need to comment.  The original poster even wrote, “thank you everyone,” which is code for, okay, I don’t need more feedback. But I couldn’t help myself. “Team Swaddle,” I wrote, chuckling to myself as I hit enter. 

Here is my daughter, swaddled, several months ago. That little hand always got out.

This morning a woman with whom I went to college and haven’t seen in thirteen years posted that she was looking for a book to read that wasn’t serious and could hold her attention. To my overcommenting brain, this was an urgent matter. I searched my Goodreads and saw a book that I felt wasn’t too serious and could probably keep her attention. However, as I was posting I thought, well, maybe the first two chapters were a little slow. Maybe it won’t hold her attention. But I hit enter anyways! What if she hates the book? 

Will this book hold your attention?

This overzealous commenting is extending to my overposting. I wrote a very serious status update about a controversial issue that really is not my priority in life, but is very important to others. Yes, I think about it sometimes. However, why did I feel the need to use my page to comment on the issue? Just the other day, I felt the need to talk about Ramses II.  Sure, I’m a history teacher, but I’m not an Egyptologist. Yet, I was compelled to share.  

Still, the commenting is what is most out of control. This morning I made a biblical reference to my brother-in-law’s building posting about the building of his new home. Why? Why? 

This afternoon I indeed hit a new low. I now realize I need help. I commented on an article in a newspaper of a town where I haven’t lived in almost 20 years. I got in a fight with a guy named "TomThumb" who said women are selfish and if they weren't, they would stay at home and obey their husbands. I almost argued a hypothesis about why his screen name is TomThumb, but I held back.

This was my favorite book of short stories as a kid. It was the Jewish Tom Thumb named "K'Ton Ton."

So on my way home from work today, I reflected. I realized that I’m over-commenting on Facebook because I don’t have enough friends in Israel with whom I can share my (choose your favorite/most endearing/annoying trait of mine) neurotic, quirky,  dark, cynical, socially minded, historically informed, depressive, comedic, obsessive, new mother, newly married, Jewish, sports loving, therapeutic, pedagogical  comments. I am desperate for attention. Facebook is feeding that desperation like the plant feeds on blood. (Sorry, teaching The Picture of Dorian Gray - so many similes and metaphors!)

I go to school, and when anyone (except 3 teachers) asks me how I’m doing, I answer, great, good or fine. Because if my 30-something-self could tell my 20-something-self one thing it would be: in the work place, most people do not want to hear your complaints. “How are you” is to Americans as Bowing is to the Japanese. You just do it every time you see someone.

“How can you not have friends?” I have been asked. “You have a million Facebook friends!”  I do have friends in Chicago and in the U.S. But the time zone difference and my inability to text (another future blog post) have limited our interactions.  In Israel, I know people, but only one couple has really been seemingly excited to hang out with us semi consistently. What I have come to realize is that friendship is a need that I have, but my friends in Israel do not necessarily have the same needs or at least do not need them to be met by me, especially given that I don't live in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv.  My husband has almost no need for friendships. He’s perfectly happy seeing one friend once in a while and spending his time with me. 

Meanwhile, I'm finding that besides him and my daughter, the only thing that stays by my side is my Fitbit. 

 I love you too, Fitbit.

 I long for those three mile walks on Lake Shore Drive talking with a girlfriend about everything from the meaning of life to Teresa’s possible future incarceration.  I wish I were giving unsolicited advice to my younger coworkers as they glazed over their smart phones pretending to listen to me. I miss having dinner in the neighborhood with a friend criticizing other people’s lives and concluding the evening with our own self doubts and a promise to do it again soon.

Also, because of my lack of friendships, when I do make a friend, sometimes, I overdo it. One teacher at school invited my husband and me over for dinner. I was so happy after dinner that I said to her, how about next Friday at our place?  They were like, um, maybe. They have other friends! They don’t want to spend every Friday or next Friday at our place!  Or the woman in our building who befriended me. I started talking to her about all of the clutter in the stairwells and what if there is a fire, and they should do something about that. I couldn’t stop myself and I haven’t heard from her since. I don’t blame her! (Although we do have some awesome toys her daughter can play with!)

Look, I am in a great situation. I have a wonderful husband, a beautiful daughter, lovely in laws, a great place to live and a wonderful workplace. I’m hardly sacrificing, especially when you think of people who make real sacrifices for their families.  I’m living 10 minutes from the beach with a view of the Mediterranean Sea.

But man, do I miss my friends and family back home.

P.S. Thank you for reading my comments on my commenting. Please feel free to comment.

P.P.S. If this post makes you worried, don’t be. I’m doing well. The above is literary bulimia, nothing more, nothing less. Also, when I have tons of stuff to do, like cooking and grading, I prefer to blog.

P.P.S.S. If you call us now, it will be suspect. So maybe shoot for a couple of weeks.  Or you don't have to call. No need for pity. I have Lior, Maya and my Fitbit. :)

Response to Pew Research on American Judaism

My conclusion after reading the Pew Research Study on Judaism in America is that liberal Judaism slows assimilation, but cannot stop it. However, that doesn't strengthen the notion of Orthodox Judaism as the only hope for the survival of American Judaism. If Orthodox Judaism became the only Judaism in America, more people would just stop being Jewish immediately.

My biggest issues with Orthodox Judaism are its stances on women and homosexuality. These are non starters for me. Liberal Jewish movements have to make their synagogues more welcoming, engaging, relevant and educationally sound.

I believe that hospitality is the key to bringing people into a community, and this is not a strength of many liberal synagogues which are too centered on their buildings and institutional values rather than on the people who do and could potentially go there. The first Jewish guy, Abraham, was hospitable to the 3 "visitors" even though he was super old and had just been circumcised. Open your tent, be welcoming, and people will come.

Will their children? If they can find another hospitable tent, I think so.

Feed, Sleep, Love

I’m going to talk about my life during the past 9 weeks since my daughter was born. Although I am writing about motherhood, I am not an expert and do not necessarily think you should follow anything I say in any way, shape or form. There are so many mommy bloggers who speak like their methods or experiences are gospel. I believe no such thing, but I hope nevertheless that this offers you some moderate entertainment. 

Check out my sweet socks! 

Maternity Leave

So, I’m a bit hyperactive and I was very worried that I would be bored during my maternity leave. I suggested to one of my coworkers that I would be willing to do work during the leave and know I would have plenty of time to complete various tasks. She looked at me half agreeing and half, “There’s no way in hell you are going to end up working during your maternity leave.”

Well, she was right. I have worked a tiny, tiny, tiny bit, but honestly, I have had no time whatsoever to dedicate to work. Taking care of a newborn is a full-time job. 

Your life runs on three-hour never ending cycles of feeding, changing, soothing, cleaning and once in a while sleeping.

Feeding

Before I gave birth, I told everyone that I didn’t care if I breast fed or not.  I said I would try, and if it didn’t work out, so be it. However, in the end when I couldn’t, I was hysterical.  As soon as my baby was born, I was put on a regimen as follows: breast feed for 20 minutes, pump for 20 minutes, and give formula for 20 minutes  - she was a month early so she had to be fed formula, no matter what.  

Well, my milk never came in. I did this for a week, and when I brought her to the doctor I was exhausted, and she hadn’t gained enough weight. The doctor wouldn’t tell me outright to stop breast feeding, but he said, “You look miserable, she isn’t gaining weight, and if you haven’t gotten your milk in, you probably won’t.” So I talked to a lactation consultant, took some vitamins, massaged my boobs, kept up with the regimen for 3 more days, and then after looking at my minuscule supply after pumping, I threw in the towel. I needed to concentrate on getting her weight up, and I couldn’t do that and continue that schedule.

The thing was that I did care. I cried like, well a baby, I made my husband take back the pump to the hospital the second I gave up, because when I looked at it, I couldn’t stop crying.

To this day, I feel guilty that I am not breast feeding her, especially because she is having some digestions issues. But, I have for the most part gotten over it, and it helps that my husband can feed her, too.    

One long, big brain fart

I never believed the pregnant/new mom brain. I actually thought it was sexism. However, it has happened to me. I’m slowly starting to recover, but it’s been really brutal. I would say though that 99 percent of it is just from sleep deprivation. I’m a history teacher, and the other day I couldn’t remember several of the Vice Presidents’ names. I couldn’t believe it.  I thought I would catch up on my reading. It turns out the only thing I have an attention span for is reality television. If you saw my DVR right now, I wouldn’t be able to look at you in the eye.

A gift from my Aunt

Sleep deprivation

Before I had my daughter, everyone would say, “Sleep nowwwwwwwww, you won’t be able to once the baby comes.” I found this annoying, because you can’t give yourself a sleep savings account. However, I will say, as I said before, the effects of sleep deprivation have affected me physically and mentally.

I often have no idea why the hell she is crying

They say babies cry for three reasons: they are hungry, need their diapers changed or are tired. Well, I can tell you there is the fourth reason, which is a total mystery and you just have no idea and have to just bounce and sway and say shhh and pray that it stops.

Finding mommy friends helps

I have had four new moms come into my life since my daughter was born, and I am very grateful. Let’s face it. You can only talk to your friends about poop, spit up and skin rashes for so long, even with people who have children. However, if you are friends with someone else who has a little baby, you can have those conversations for hours and it relieves anxiety (and causes some too). I always thought I would have riveting conversations with my friends and not just be constantly talking about my baby. I was totally wrong. I can spend 20 minutes talking about formula and poop. There's a new Pope? Can he make my baby poop? Well, then, I don't care. 

Here are a few other tidbits I have learned over the last 9 weeks:

•   The car seat is heavy as hell. It helps to attach it to a stroller.
•   After pregnancy, there is a lot of bleeding. I never knew that. And it’s gross.
•  Friends and family who said they are so excited for the baby to come and will be over all of the time to help, probably won’t. People are busy with their lives, and don’t expect more than a couple of visits.  I wish I had been a little more realistic. Just appreciate when people do come over. 
•   When people offer to bring you food, TAKE THEM UP ON IT.
•  It’s almost impossible to lose baby weight and get your body back like the stars do. I’m only 5 pounds away, but my body is just different. So don’t buy US Magazine that shows new moms in bikinis at the beach - unless you want to use it to line your diaper pail.
• Not all babies poop every day.
•  Babies don’t sleep all day.
• The pediatrician’s office sounds like a house of horrors.
• Feel free to say no to hand-me-downs.
• Swaddling works.
• Cutting their nails is really challenging but necessary. 
•  Writing than you notes for gifts is really hard, but people want their thank you notes. The greatest gift you can give to a new mother is to say, don’t write me a thank you note. (However, to the 55 people who I just sent thank you notes to, it was my pleasure and thank you for the gift).

Love

Shark Attack! 

I have to say, I never realized how much I would love my daughter. It’s an overwhelming amount of love that I have never felt before. I feel this weird sensation like she has always been a part of me, only I just found her. I don't know how I'm going to go back to work, I am so attached,  and that's never something I ever thought I would feel. (Nor is it an option, really.)  She has been my greatest gift in life next to my husband, who has been an amazing dad. I am very lucky and very blessed. 

Butterflies vs. Basketballs

Today I officially entered some scary new realm of adulthood when my husband and I paid $55 for a Costco Membership.  I don’t think either of us really knows if the cost is worth it, but the other hundred thousand or so people who all seemed to converge there today must think so.

This also is my first official piece writing in the mom genre, as I am, knock on wood, soon going to be parent in the next few weeks. (If I were me 10 months ago, I would promptly stop reading right about here.)

So I sent my husband to find 500 rolls of toilet paper while I looked at baby clothes. Yesterday, I read that a baby can go through 3 outfits a day, and I have about 6 on hand (thanks Samantha and the Chacham family), partly due to procrastination and a little due to superstition.

We are also trying to take a minimalist approach to the baby. We live in a comfortable, 2 bedroom condo. However, it does not lend itself, and neither does our budget to buy everything on the Buy Buy Baby registry list.  (Traditionally, Jewish people don’t have baby showers, although today, many do).

As I searched for the clothes, I encountered a problem. We didn’t want to know the sex of our baby. We aren’t militant about it, if a doctor or nurse slipped, we wouldn’t care that much, but we don’t really care about the gender so we’re going for the surprise element. So the problem? The clothes are really gender specific not just by design, but with phrases like, “Daddy’s little lady bug.”

So then I started to think about my own gender biases. Why don’t I buy all the pink princess butterfly and the dark blue baseball truck driver onesies and put it on my kid, no matter what the gender is. What do I really care? It’s just clothes.

Can a baby girl wear this? 

But I couldn’t do it. So I looked again for gender neutral clothing, and sort of found some, but I think they are actually for boys because they are blue. And then I heard a voice of an old person saying, “Why are you dressing your baby like a little boy?” But I bought them anyways. The kid needs to be dressed.

So today I bought clothes with cute monsters, ships and sea creatures on them. The one with ships says, “My Little Captain.” If I have a daughter, and she wants to be a captain of a ship, I’m totally cool with that. In fact, I’d be impressed.

The big wardrobe question will come when we do know the gender. Just go to Carters.com. You have two choices: baby boy or baby girl.  So will I buy the bright pink My Little Kitty Princess Fairy Gear that says “My Little Angel” or the football NFL logo black velour “Number 1 Draft Pick” onesie?  

Or will I be too tired to care?

I know, I know, this should be my biggest problem. Besides, my nieces love princesses, fairies, and Barbies, and they are awesome kids.  

But my gut just tells me that I don’t want to foist gender stereotypes on my child, at least during the first week of its life. It’s not like I’ll refuse gifts of frilly dresses or masculine shirts. But it’s just not me to buy them, at least not yet. Would I feel differently if I knew the gender? I actually don’t think so, but I could be wrong.

I’d like to end with the most ridiculous passage I read yesterday in the book “What to Expect the First Year” about getting gender neutral clothes for your baby:

“If you haven’t learned the gender of your baby through prenatal testing, don’t buy everything in yellow or green (unless you’re crazy about those colors), particularly since many infants don’t have the complexion to carry off those shades.” (Page 43, 2003 edition)

Well, if the baby can’t pull off its yellow onesie, I’ll just call “What Not to Wear” and get their advice. I’ll put their number right next to poison control. 

Are Teachers in Israel Armed?

For the third time on my Facebook feed, a friend mentioned that Israeli teachers are armed in their classrooms. I know this to be untrue, my Israeli husband says it’s untrue, but I figured, what the heck, I will ask Israelis who I know who are geographically and politically diverse who live in Israel right now whether or not teachers are armed.

The media claim that Israel has armed teachers stemmed from the Sandy Hook tragedy two weeks ago.  There are those who claim that to save our children from the mentally deranged, we should arm our teachers, just like Israel does.

Only in common practice, Israel does not actually arm its teachers.

What propelled me to email Israeli friends just to make sure is that today’s source of the misinformation is located on Fox News web site and is written by a freelance journalist who lives in Israel, giving the piece some unfortunate credibility. And even more disturbing, 1.8 million people liked the article on Facebook.

I’m not sure if the author intended to be misleading and hysterical or if it was the work the editors at Fox News.  The headline reads, “Armed Teachers, Guards Bolster security in Israel.” In addition, the article is illustrated with a horrible AP photo of kids in Israel wearing gas masks, which was probably from a drill at some point.

The photo is classic sensationalism and out of context. The headline, as the article somewhat details, is just not true. This is somewhat admitted  by the author himself, although his explanation is totally contradictory and the sentence is pretty meaningless, “And the idea of armed teachers in the classroom, which stirred much controversy in the wake of the U.S. attack, has long been in practice in Israel, though a minority of them carry weapons today.”

So what did my Israeli friends say?

I can't say I recall seeing any teachers with guns on them in school. Many have licenses to carry them because they live in occupied territory but I don't think they walk around armed...- Vivian, teacher and mother of school aged children, Kiryat Gat.

I work at a school - teachers don't carry guns in schools.-  Omri, school administrator and father of school aged children, Jerusalem

As far as I know and from our experience, teachers in Israel are not carrying guns. – Sarit, special education teacher and mother of school aged children, Lachish

From my experience as a student in Israel- we didn't had any teachers with guns in school but I'm assuming that in the West Bank there are more people with firearms license and some of them are probably teachers. -  Hila, cultural emissary, Tel Aviv.

What an outrageous lie!  Teachers do not carry guns. - Sarah, curriculum writer and mother of school aged children, Modiin.

I have never seen a teacher carrying a gun in school in my life – Shlomo, MD, PHD, Jerusalem

Totally disconnect from reality. Anyway, I am not aware at all of such practice. Sounds to me like science fiction. – Yariv, businessman, Bazra

No, teachers in Israel do not carry guns. – Michal, educational tourism, Tel Aviv

The one thought that a lot of people who wrote to me had was that maybe teachers in the West Bank (Judea and Samaria) carry weapons because there are more threats there. I only asked one person who lives in a settlement there and he responded,

“Most teachers in Judea and Samaria don't carry guns in school,” Aaron, tourism, Ofra.

So what is true? What is the law?

In Israel, if a teacher is given the authority by the municipality and the Ministry of Education, he/she can carry a weapon in school. However,  that permission is given in very rare circumstances, so much so that the people I talked to are not even conscious of the possibility.

Every Israeli school has an armed guard, this is true, but the James Bond teachers are part of a mythology being spread currently by the NRA and news outlets.

Israel has a lot to offer to the United States, especially in technology and medicine. However, looking to
Israel to help us solve our school shooting problems is just not the answer, even if it gets your article likes on Facebook.

Click below for:

The article that motivated this post

The Israeli law regarding guns in schools (in Hebrew) (Thanks Hila)

An article in the Times of Israel about the reality of guns in Israeli schools (Thanks Sarah) 

Real Housewives Confession

I need to confess something to my readers, friends, family and colleagues.

I watch a few different versions of Bravo’s Real Housewives. I think some of you may be surprised, just like you are when I’m not very good at Words With Friends. Before those of you who loathe the shows judge me, I am in the process of serious self analysis as to why I’m so enthralled with these very wealthy, very dysfunctional women.

And I am not alone. “Real Housewives of New Jersey” was the number one searched item on Yahoo on Sunday and Monday. It also was the highest rated t.v. show last Sunday.

So what is the appeal? I have not always been a reality t.v. junky. I’ve never really watched Dancing With the Stars or American Idol. I never watched Survivor or Big Brother. I did watch a couple seasons of the “Real World,” specifically the season with Puck and the one that was filmed in Chicago when I rooted for the Jewish girl on antidepressants.

But in the last year, I’ve been drawn to the Real Housewives. Why?

The answer, quite honestly, is the conflict. I have conflict envy. While I spend most of my life avoiding and preventing conflict, on these shows, the women are rewarded when they scream at each other, almost get violent, throw furniture, etc. If I acted the way that they do, and sometimes I would like to, I would have no family, no friends and no jobs. The louder they scream the more popular that they are.

Two of the screaming housewives. 

Watching other people say whatever they like, whenever they want to, is somehow cathartic for all of the viewers who have to live in the real world and can’t (and probably shouldn’t) say what’s on their minds. If I were paid a few hundred thousand dollars to act like a maniac, I probably would do so, gladly. I don’t know that my mania would rise to the level of the Real Housewives, but write me a check, and I will tell you what I really think about you.

So I will continue to lose my brain cells every week to watch these nutty women, even though I’m not proud of it. If you plan to confront me about it, please have Andy Cohen on hand to facilitate.

Holla.