Teaching Writing: Novel Experience

Classroom View

Teaching a book is very different from reading it for pleasure or as a student. For one, as a student, at least as a high school student, I read with the intent of being entertained. As a college student, I read looking for text and subtext. In graduate school, I read with an eye for taking the novel apart and figuring out what made it go. Now, teaching college in the high school, I try to keep in mind all of these experiences, with the additional lens of interrogating the novel to see what central ideas, historical context, and relatability I can discuss with my students. The latter--relatability--was a word I started to hear from students the moment I began to teach an undergraduate creative writing workshop. The students wanted everything to be relatable and they wanted to experience its relatability without doing much work.

Teaching high school students is a bit different from teaching undergraduates. High school students are even more fragile than college students--almost as often as I heard the word “relatable” I heard the story of a high school teacher who ruined a book or whose criticism made a student feel incapable of writing. Since I am inherently a reader and writer, relatability never occurred to me--I didn’t read to find out about someone who experienced the same things as me, I read to expand my understanding and experiences. I welcomed criticism from my teachers, as I wanted to become a better writer, not just be heaped with praise. Although heapings of praise didn’t hurt, either. As an instructor, though, I have to keep in mind that not all students are aching to be better writers, and blunt criticism is not effective. I also have to remember to heap on the praise, as this does not come naturally to me. Maybe putting stickers on graded essay would help?

Reading The Great Gatsby for the first time since high school, and in preparation for class discussion, I discovered a lot of things I did not notice the first time around and quite a few things I had forgotten. For one, I am not sure I ever had a clue that Nick fled the midwest in part because he was escaping a relationship that had become too intense for him--he claims that “gossip had published the banns”. His cruel treatment of Jordan also alluded me. Even as we discussed Nick as an unreliable narrator in my high school classroom, it did not occur to me that part of his unreliability was his lack of culpability in romantic relationships, as well as intense denial any time things got serious. Having years of serious dating behind me, which included more than one cad who could have given Nick a run for his money, I was shocked to realize how callous he was regarding women.

The anti-Semitism, too, I had not remembered. Meyer Wolfsheim, not only the only Jewish character, but one of the few with a clearly labeled ethnicity, is one of Gatsby’s shady business partners, and he is quite proud of the fact that he helped rig the 1919 World Series. He also speaks in dialect and openly discusses seeing other gangsters murdered. There’s also the the “lovely Jewess” at Meyer’s office and the business name on the office “The Swastika Holding Company.”

I had also forgotten the stunning prose, the keen descriptions of lives built on idleness and money. Fitzgerald’s descriptions of the valley of ashes, the scene Nick encounters when he first enters the Buchanan mansion, and the exterior and interior of the Gatsby mansion are so present and wondrous on the page. I had not forgotten how juicy the plot is, how it unfolds like a true crime mystery, but I certainly enjoyed it just as much, if not more, than I did when I read it for high school.

The Great Gatsby not only stands up to my adult rereading, but it exceeded my pleasure. It offers so many complex discussion topics for the classroom, more than just the American Dream and the treatment of divinity, but also our complicated views of wealth and class, partying and hard work, and even family life. My students were shocked by the treatment of Pamela Buchanan, the daughter of Tom and Daisy. She barely exists in the presence of the novel, and it is implied that she is raised by servants.

While researching books to determine classroom appropriateness, I also became acquainted with the Focus on the Family website, pluggedin, which provides amazingly detailed information about any content that could possibly be considered objectionable in a book (the headings include “Authority Roles,” “Profanity/Violence,” and “Kissing/Sex/Homosexuality”). Never in my life did I think that I would be a visitor, let alone a frequent visitor, of a Focus on the Family website. But, as Justin Bieber famously said, Never Say Never.

If you haven’t read The Great Gatsby in years, give it another whirl. If you have kids in high school, consider reading it with them. It would be a good way to bond and encourage appreciation for great literature.

Teaching Writing: Living It

My journey to work.

As I am about to embark on a new school year, at a new school with new courses and new students, I am examining writing textbooks, and discovered that many assign students the task of writing about themselves as writers. What they write, who they write for, and how they feel about writing. As a writer who has been seriously focused on creative writing since high school, writing is a part of my daily consciousness. I think about when I will write, I think about what I want to write, I think about revising what I’m working on. I think about what I am reading, from advertisements to texts to poems, considering what each piece is trying to communicate, how it’s communicating it, and how effective the writing is, to various degrees of consciousness. I do not take a lot of time to think about who I am as a writer. I take for granted that I am a writer, just like I am a woman and an American and a Jew. It is inherent to my basic identity.

But as I prepare lesson plans, class schedules, and syllabi, and I prepare to ask my students who they are as writers, I am being given the opportunity to consider who I am as a writer, what are my goals, and who do I want to write for. I am asked to think about my writing history, which is closely intertwined with my life and my self-esteem. I am asked to consider my influences, habits, and methods. When I first began to think about my relationship with writing and myself as a writer, it seemed simple: I am a writer, and I write to share my voice with the world. However, this is not an introspective or revealing response. If a student turned in this answer, I would respond with questions like, but what does it mean to be a writer? How do you feel about writing? How do you share your voice with the world?

When I was still small enough to sit in my mother’s lap and too young to yet know how to read, I fought for my mother’s attention so that she would read to me. Once I started writing, I loved that, too. I wanted my teachers to tell me how good my book reports were. I wanted other students to think that I was the best writer in the class, just like I wanted to be the fastest runner. Writing was not just something I enjoyed, it was also a way to get recognition.

When I was in sixth grade, a friend of mine became the object of our teasing, and was nicknamed Dogwoman. At the end of the previous school year, I had similarly been singled out, and everyone in my class barked at me when I walked by. Since it had happened to me at the end of the school year, I spent all summer worrying that the harassment would continue when I returned in the fall. Although it was a terrible experience, I did not translate my feelings about this experience when I joined in the teasing. In fact, when a mutual friend suggested we write a book about Dogwoman, my immediate thought was all the jokes I could include. So began a series of books about the adventures of Dogwoman, written by me and illustrated by my friend. I completely forgot the stories were about a real person and reveled in silliness of the writing, coming up with sixth grade level dirty jokes and ridiculous situations. The books were wildly popular in my grade, with a better circulation than any library book. If I had ever considered the cruelty of the stories, it was quickly squashed by the attention the books got.

Thanks to my whit, not only did I destroy a friendship, but for a period of time she did not have any friends at our school. Still, it took me years recognize the damage I had done and accept responsibility. I wish that an adult had intervened. It might have saved my friend a good deal of pain. I wish that I had some empathy and some guts and I would not have participated and would have instead stuck up for my friend. Writing has consequences, sometimes unintended consequences. And there are some wrongs which you are not given an opportunity to write: I have not been able to find my friend and make a proper apology.

The kind of writer and person I want to be is one whose writing makes the world a better place. I want to make people think about their choices and consider their behavior. I want to help people by sharing my own experiences and what I have discovered. I want to be part of a dialogue of joy. When I was pregnant, I wrote about morning sickness and some other challenges I experienced. A few months later, a friend told me that she had tried my suggestions, and it had helped her. For me, this was a great compliment, because it meant that something I had written had a positive impact. Part of what I want to teach my students is the power of writing, that with their words they can inspire change, both large and small. Something as small and transitory as a social media post can darken or lighten someone’s day. As Uncle Ben in Tobey Maguire’s 2002 Spiderman says, “With great power comes great responsibility.”

It all depends on how you look at it.

Writer on the Move: You Can't Take It with You

Cake and Boo trying to look innocent.

Traveling across the country with two cats and an infant is an adventure. Most cats, mine included, do not like car rides and do not like to be put in carriers. For the past several states, Cake, a gray tiger cat, has been hiding under the bed in the morning, in an effort to avoid her carrier. Being underneath the center of a large bed necessitates clever contortion and acrobatics in order to get her out. Boo, the larger calico, has been more pliant, as she generally is. As I put her into the carrier, she tries to block the entrance with her paws, but when she realizes that she is going to lose the battle, she allows herself to be pushed inside.

When it was time to leave Chicago, and we were doing the dance of one person taking care of the cats and baby while the other loaded the car, Boo disappeared. We looked under the beds. We looked in the bathroom. I ran outside, calling her name. The hotel staff had doors open across the side of the building as they cleaned the rooms. There was a highway behind the hotel, a road in front of it, and businesses on either side. Frantically, I ran into every open door and looked under every bed. Then I ran around both buildings, calling Boo’s name. Then into the parking lots nearby and along the perimeter of the highway. The longer I looked for the cat, the less pretty my imagination became.

After nearly two hours of frantic looking, we had to face the possibility that we would not find the cat. It would be difficult to stay another night in the hotel. Once we had nabbed Cake from under the bed, we would have to leave. So, I stuck my head under the bed as far as I could to see if I could make a grab for her. While I was wedged under the bed, I noticed there was a bulge hanging down from the box spring. I pushed on it, and it was soft. I pushed again, and it meowed. There was Boo, hiding inside the bed.

Packing for a big move, especially for such a long distance, is a challenge. The more belongings to move, the bigger the cost, with a higher price tag for furniture. Before the movers came, we did some downsizing. The second bedroom, as of late the baby’s room, housed five large book cases. Some of the shelves were doubled up with books. There were also a few boxes of books that had yet to be unpacked from the last move.

It had previously been my policy not to get rid of books. What if I wanted to return to the book later? Or copy a passage to teach in class? If I gave it away, I would be in quite a bind. In reality, there are very few books that I return to and with the internet and the efficiency of ILL (Interlibrary Loan), I could find almost anything I needed for class within seconds, or at most, a few days. I had no actual need for all of the books. But when I started to think about giving them away, I felt a little threatened, as though I was endangering myself by giving them away, because what if I did end up needing them? The logic of the situation had nothing to do with the thin fear that crept in.

I often feel this way when it is time to thin out my belongings, whether it is a skirt I will clearly never be small enough to wear or the hand mixer that was given to me five years ago and never used. While I have no need for these things, it pains me to let them go.

In the end, I parted with a good many things, including several boxes of books and many unused things. For the few seconds I am troubled when I give things away, almost always, I forget by the end of the day and never remember that it is gone, let alone lament no longer possessing it. Letting go of a loved one is a completely different experience. When I had to put my sick, elderly dog down I was devastated. I cried every day for over a month. It broke my heart all over again when the cats waited by the door for the dog’s return.

Intellectually, I know that possessions are just things. Usually, they are not unique, and can be replaced, often at not too great of a cost. Loved ones, like a cat or a dog, or even more so in the case of a friend or relative, are not replaceable. “Losing” Boo was a reminder of just what it means to lose something I truly care about. As was saying goodbye to so many people we care about. We will be able to visit in the future, and we can keep in touch, but we will no longer have the close, physical intimacy that we once did. It was a powerful reminder at minimal cost.

We have now been through PA, OH, IN, IL, and are stopping over in Madison, WI. We have several more states to go, but we are making progress. May the rest of the journey be relatively painless, and everyone who got into the car in Philly leave it safe and sound in Portland.

Writer on the Move: Phone Home

The Cousins Visit

Tisha B’Av, which is observed by fasting and rituals of mourning, such as sitting low to the ground and refraining from comforts such as bathing and clean clothes, not only recognizes the destruction of the Temples but also bemoans the lack of achdus, or unity, among the Jewish people.

Before we left Philadelphia, a group of family and friends gathered in our apartment to say goodbye and to help with the last, messy parts of moving. They loaded the car, cleaned the kitchen, cared for the baby, and helped us part with a few more things in order to fit us all (husband, baby, two cats, and myself) in the car. My brother and future sister-in-law bravely dosed the cats with over the counter calming chews. In the summer heat, all of this can only be considered acts of love and kindness.

While I believe we made the right decision, that does not take away the sadness of the physical distance we are creating. I am notoriously bad at keeping in touch with people. The phone has often been a tool to induce guilt instead of a way to keep lines of communication open. In order to make this move not only an easier transition than past moves, but also not to lose those we so fiercely love, I considered a few strategies to stay in touch.

1. Public Weekly Updates. A friend of mine who made aliyah (moved to Israel) two years ago writes a weekly email about the week’s adventures and her upcoming Shabbat plans. She sends the email to nearly everyone in her address book and includes pictures and notes of who is visiting. For myself, a weekly update on Facebook makes more sense than an email, but the idea is the same: a line of communication which includes regular updates and gives friends a chance to respond with their own updates. Already, I have been posting weekly photos of the baby. Now, I will be making the post more robust information about our lives.
2. Phone call appointments. When I was in college, a Sunday never went by without calling home to my parents. If I had ever forgotten, my parents would have been calling the authorities to send them searching for me. An appointment, recorded on the calendar in my iPhone, to call friends at an agreed upon time will help me to keep in touch. Like an appointment to see the doctor, it becomes something not to be missed or rescheduled, a fixed time to be protected. Psychologically, seeing it on the calendar is not only a reminder of making the phone call, but an actual imperative.
3. Regular blog posts about our new adventures, including the return to teaching and transition to a new home. Writing has always been a way for me to process things. As Flannery O’Connor said, “I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.” Through writing about our new life, I will be able to share with others while unpacking the experience for myself.
4. Skype with the (Grand)Rents. Our daughter will undoubtedly know and see her grandparents in person, but that is not enough for her or her grandparents. Being able to see her grow up will be a comfort for her grandparents, as well.

On Tisha B’Av, we mourn a Temple that no one alive has seen. We mourn the loss of unity of an entire people that no one alive has experienced. This year, I mourn a place I loved and closeness to many family and friends. I am blessed to have had the opportunity to have experienced such love, and to continue to experience such love, though now from a distance. Next year, may we celebrate in Jerusalem.

Writer on the Move: I Couldn't Do It

Traveling is hard work.

I was telling my friend, who writes a fashion blog, about how I had adopted the practice of writing on my iPhone. Having a newborn requires living life one-handed and there had been no time to spend alone with my laptop or notebook. However, I found that I could use Google Docs to write on my phone while feeding the baby. “I couldn’t do it,” my friend said. "I couldn't write on my phone."

My friend, a dedicated writer, was perfectly capable of writing on her phone, and had she been in the same situation as me, she would have either done as I had or found a solution that suited her. She would have figured out a way to keep writing.

“I couldn't do it” and its fraternal twin, “I wouldn't be able to do that” are phrases we use when what we really mean is, “I don't want it that badly.” In reality, if running were a top priority to me, I would wake up at 6:00 AM to do it or stay up after midnight or make some other time in the day. Following around Phish sounds like great fun, but I am not willing to sacrifice a home and the ability to pay bills in order to do so. However, I make constant sacrifices for my infant daughter, which do not feel like sacrifices. Because I love her and am happy to care for her, it does not bother me when she pees on me while I change her diaper, or that I have given up time with my friends for conversation with someone who can only coo in return. My life has significantly less freedom than I had a year ago, and I am happier for it.

When we choose what we can and cannot do, we are making choices of attention, effort, and allocation of resources. Once we have decided that something is essential to us, something we could not live without. then we will give up sleep and leisure in order to do it. When something is essential, we will make the time, money, and energy. It might not be easy, and could take a lot of sacrifice, but it will not only be within our realm of possibility, it will actually happen.

Recently, I accepted an offer to teach at a brand new STEM school in Washington state. When I tell people that I am moving to the other side of the country for a job, many tell me that I am brave and that they could not do it. What they mean is that the risk of leaving behind all that is familiar to them is not worth it. What they also mean is that perhaps I am not of sound mind.

Life gets comfortable. Even when we are not fulfilled, life can be pretty comfortable. The job I had was a nice office job. The pay was livable, my coworkers were easy to get along with, and the work was not boring. However, I missed teaching. I had been thinking about the amount of time I spent at work, much more time than I spent with my family or writing. I thought about how we get one shot at this life. And I thought about how I wanted to leave the world a better place than I found it.

I applied for the position because the job posting sounded promising and the more I learned about the school the more I wanted to be a part of this new start up. When I was offered the position of English teacher, my family and I discussed it and decided that the opportunity to work in a place that better used my talents and offered the opportunity to make a difference in others’ lives was too good to pass up, even though it was nearly 2,900 miles away. We decided that the chance to be happier and more fulfilled was worth the risk. It might sound idealistic, but what are we if we give up all of our ideals and dreams? And who or what are we really serving if we spend a full third of our day at a job we only go to for a paycheck?

There are some things in life that are worth making sacrifices. Family, Gd, art, things which are more noble than any individual by herself is. These are the things which make us say: Let's do this thing.

5 Suggestions to Help You Swerve around Writer’s Block

Blank page. Blank screen. Blank mind. Writer’s block has tormented just about every writer who attempted the craft. The most prolific of writers will bump against the edge of their imaginations and will be left not knowing where to go next. If all writers encounter the inability to write the next sentence, why do we writers find it so terrifying? Peeking over the shoulder of writer’s block is the fear that there are no more words, no more images, no more metaphors. There is not another story, poem, essay, or article anywhere inside the brain. Originality is gone. The rest of life will be Lifetime movie writing. But writer’s block does not have to be a force that tears you down and destroys. If you can accept that the dry spell is only temporary, and approach it is an opportunity and not a reason to crawl into a paper bag and never crawl back out, then your brain will be more willing to snap out of its doldrums and jump back in or start a new project.

If your case of writer’s block feels especially painful or has been going on for some time, consider giving yourself a set amount of time to remain in your fallow period. Just as a field needs to rest or it will lose all its ability to produce, your creativity needs a chance to wander, consider, and conserve some energy. A fallow period may only mean that you are just resting up for the next big thing. So give yourself permission to take one more day, week, or even a month. The cessation of pressure may allow you to come back in full-force when you are ready. Anxiety can be deadly to the imagination. So, try to distract and inspire yourself.

• Take a walk. Literally. Get outside. If you live near a park, woods, or any other expression of nature, go there and meander. Be as aware of your surroundings as possible and try to step outside of yourself, Emerson style. If you don’t live near nature, just be outside and observe buildings, traffic, and people. Try to see the things you’ve seen before not as daily sights, but look with fresh eyes. Or, explore a part of your town or city you are unfamiliar with. The idea is to help you slip outside of yourself, spark your senses, and hopefully come up with some new ideas.

• Exercise. Preferably something you enjoy, like yoga, zumba, or basketball. But anything will do: jog, lift weights, run after a dog or child. Get your heart beating and strain your muscles. Changing your breathing and heart rate can not only distract you, but helps to change your thought patterns. It also releases stress. If you can, build exercise into your weekly schedule. You’ll find that these times will help you work out concepts so that when you are in front of your laptop again, you already know how you’re going to start.

• Look to another art. Go to a museum, gallery, concert, or Color Me Mine. Listen to music you would not usually listen to or pick up your forgotten trumpet. See a movie in the theater. Cut up some magazines and make a collage. There is no need to indulge in high art, but if you wish to go to an opera or ballet, enjoy. Soak it in. See how someone else does it, or try something new. A caution--now is probably not the time to turn to TV. The addictive quality and general lack of mental stimulation is probably not the best to help you snap out of mental inactivity. TV has its purposes and value, but is not generally an inspiration for writers.

• Reread something that inspired you way back when. Sometimes going back to the books that made you want to be a writer can help you start up again because you remember what it was you loved about reading and writing to start with. Many times I’ve reread Anne Sexton’s Transformations and it still gives me the shivers and makes me want to set my pen to paper. I first read the poems in high school, and I remember when I could depend upon spontaneity and had the flexibility to start scribbling as soon as I had an idea. If nothing else, returning to well-loved works should relax you as you enjoy the often-trod words.

• Try your hand at a different genre. If poetry is not bubbling up from your font of creativity, try some journal or essay writing. Help another writer by reading a recently released book and reviewing it. You might even attempt graphic novels, lyrics, or concrete poetry. Maybe you want to combine visual art with writing, or take a whirl at playwriting. Allowing yourself to shift into a different genre can help you shift your thinking and encourage you to tap into ideas that might not work in your primary genre. It helps to be versatile, and you might find something that you love as much (or almost as much) as your primary genre.

Whatever you do, don’t despair. Your brain needs a rest from time to time, just like everyone else’s. This does not mean that you are not a phenomenal writer or committed to your craft. It does not mean that you have written your last story or that you will never have an idea worth pursuing again. Writer’s block is an opportunity to explore your world in a way you had never before. It is a chance to bring play back to your practice. Accept the frustration with the potential gifts, and you might well begin your next and best piece soon.

Working Pregnant: How to Survive Your First Trimester

When my husband and I found out we were pregnant, I was excited and felt enormously blessed. I was not, however, ready to make a huge Facebook announcement. For many reasons, including the fact that most people wait until eleven or twelve weeks in to tell people, when the first trimester is over and there is significantly less risk of losing the baby, I was not ready to make any revelations to the general public. We did not tell anyone until we heard the heartbeat and had an ultrasound picture of our little blob before we even shared with immediate family.

So when morning sickness kicked me squarely in the gut, I was still not ready to tell close friends, and certainly not prepared to write an office-wide memo. In addition to trying to make it through the work day with my dignity, I was also trying to make it until 5:00 PM without revealing the pregnancy. Not so easy, and I am not sure how successful I was. But I did learn a few tricks, both by experience and through friends and family. If you have been pregnant before, you probably have your own tricks. If you have not, my first tip is: realize that you have no idea. I thought I was prepared, but the nausea, exhaustion, and mood swings were more intense than my imagination could conjure. If there is one person who has already had a baby to whom you can speak early on, it will save you a lot of Googling and “Is this normal?” anxiety.

1, Find something that calms your stomach, and bring it with you everywhere. My coworker recommended Preggie Pops, which helped, but I found that I needed something stronger, and Ginger Extreme hard candies worked (for a few minutes). For other people, it’s peppermint or ginger tea. Whatever alleviates the nausea or vomiting, carry it with you, in your pocket, preferably, because you might not be at your desk when the feeling that your stomach is going to explode out of your mouth hits. During more than one team meeting, I was relieved to pull out a hard candy rather than sprinting to the garbage can.

2. Understand that you are not going to have any energy, and compensate. You can fight the exhaustion as hard as you’d like, and I tried. In college, I pulled all-nighters regularly, and when not pregnant, I sleep an average of five hours a night. During my first trimester, five hours easily became twelve hours whenever I could make it home by 6:00 PM. Knowing that your brain and body are going to move more slowly, try to plan for this. If your mornings tend to be most productive, work on your important projects then, and save email or other tasks that require less energy and concentration for the afternoon. If your job is flexible, come in earlier and leave earlier, if mornings are better, and the opposite if later in the day you feel more human.

3. If there is any food you can eat, eat it. I felt guilty for a little bit because the only thing that I could keep in my belly was carbs: potato chips, french fries, and if I was feeling really good, pizza. I wanted to want to eat vegetables, proteins, and fruit, but I could not stomach it. Before the pregnancy, I had been eating plain yogurt with frozen fruit for breakfast, and during my first trimester, just the sight of the plain yogurt made my stomach rebel. As my midwife told me, the first trimester is survival. So, if crackers make you feel better, keep them at your desk, and eat them. The first trimester (and morning sickness) only lasts a few weeks, so do what you can to make it through the work day and get your work done with the contents of your stomach still inside your stomach.

4. Be prepared for co-workers’ comments. Most of us know that you never ask if a woman is pregnant, or comment on her pregnancy unless she says something first. Those of us who did not have parents who taught us this very important social lesson probably learned on our own--by asking someone who had put on a bit of weight if she was pregnant. Mortifying, for both people involved. For some reason, this still does not stop people from commenting. So, when you are not yet ready to tell people, have something prepared to say to these well-meaning co-workers. Here are some suggestions of what to say if a co-worker asks if you’re pregnant:

No.

Not that I know of.

No, why do you ask?

Just a few too many tacos.

Are you suggesting that I need to go to the gym?

Are these pants too tight? They looked fine this morning.

You are under no obligation to tell the truth, nor are you required to smile or be completely polite. The person asking, though well-meaning, is not being polite. Your first responsibility is to you and your baby, and if you are not ready to tell people, certainly don’t tell the nosy ones.

5. Take frequent walks away from your desk. If the beginning of your pregnancy is anything like mine, you will experience unnerving, barely controllable mood swings that range from desperate weeping to screaming rage. Neither of these is appropriate for work. Do yoga at home, sleep as much as you can, and practice calming breathing exercises. Once you are at work, if you feel your mood crashing one way or another, get up out of your seat, and go for a walk. I took many trips to the restroom before I actually needed to go every twenty minutes. Go to the mailroom or the supply closet or the vending machine, if it helps you to relax. If the weather’s nice, take a lap around the building, or just walk to your car and back. It is better to step away for a second than to burst into tears or scream at your boss or an employee. Of course, if someone sees a few tears, it’s not the end of the world, but if you can save yourself, get up and walk away for a minute.

Remember: it’s all for a good purpose. If you are pregnant, you are a lucky woman. It will not mean the end of your career. When you are ready to tell people, the chances are that your work peeps will be very happy for you. Until then, give yourself the ease and comfort that you can.