Driving with The Father this evening to the Big Grocery Store and then to the manege- to pick up The Girl , The Father told me that he had been on the phone today for over a half an hour with Maha, his friend who lives in India.

Maha has many friends in Chennai, and says that things are too terrible for words in some of the areas. For whatever reason, help was not accepted until finally the government in Delhi over- rode the law and has sent the army to help. But still, it seems that there is no core simply organizing things.

We actually seem to have helped, in some small way, although later at dinner The Father Han asked the children how much money we should send to help. But back in India, Maha and the book- keeper have borrowed a truck from friends. They loaded it with all of the seconds laying about, the clothing returned from European customers of ours, and right now, the book keeper is driving the truck down to the coast.

It is odd to think that flawed work- wear, intended for internationally known companies, will now help clothe those left without.

I wish that there were two truckloads of seconds in the storage room. Or even three. Han heard terrible, terrible stories from Maha today.

But if there were three, I suppose that we wouldn’t be a very successful company, would we ?

Have I ever mentioned that New Year’s Eve is my very favorite holiday, the one that I love best of all ? It is and I haven’t a clue as to why- we never go anywhere, I don’t make a list of resolutions, nope, I always have and I suppose that I always will, just love New Year’s Eve.

It has something that the beginning of a new school year had, fresh tablets of paper, new pens, a new beginning.

I have made it clear to the The Father and The Cheriubs that we shall indeed have Moet once again, no cheap stuff. Tomorrow I go to the baker and order our olliebollen for the evening meal ( fried dough, by any other name…). I shall pick up a score of worstebroodjes as well.

At midnight, we shall toast one another- kiddies get the Moet as well- and then grab our coats and stand on our stoop, wish our neighbors Happy New Year as fireworks and crackers go off around us. As a blanket of smoke and the scent of saltpeter is captured within the dikes which surround Town.

And perhaps, late that night, we shall watch some old film together, something like It’s a Wonderful Life.

For, while I sometimes show the seamier side of it, we do indeed have the Walton Life, we are indeed very lucky.

Living within a cliche is not as bad as it is cracked up to be.

The schmuck in me is just eating this up.

Oh, what a love story !

Brings tears to my eyes.

Really.

grrr- go through the archives- get your hankies out already-

After the rather snarky atmosphere of our Christmas, things are very jolly indeed here. It only took me- the woman with unending patience- tossing her mules up into the air and saying, well, I’m going to read. At 7.30 in the evening.

Sitting in my bed, reading, I could hear the gossip threading it’s way through the rooms below- she’s in her bedroom ? Not on The computer ?

One by one, they tapped on my bedroom door. I explained- in a very pleasant manner- that I didn’t feel like co- habiting with so many grumpy, negative people. Everyone is so grumpy and so, now am I. Fair is fair.

Everyone has been so cheerful since then, so much less…martyr-ish. It is very nice.

While I had put my pom- poms in the attic, saying to myself ‘Let them arrange New Year’s’ , I do believe that I shall insist upon the Moet and watching “Titanic” once again.

After all, traditions are traditions.

Should you find yourself with too much time on your hands, not a thing to do, could you check out the comments for Dec. 25 here . I can’t access them and wonder if there is any news.

Given the weather and all.

The Father had contact with Maha today. During the holidays, they have been in touch every day, for extended periods of time. The Father and Maha are friends, have been for over a dozen years.

Today Maha told The Father that he had been in Chennai over our holidays, staying at that place that they rent out by the beach. A few minutes before the big wave, they left, good timing. They say the wave that hit the beach there was ten stories high.

So they say.

It hit the villa, crumpled up the care – taker and the wall surrounding the villa, left him with 15 stitches in his neck but his family of 5 is safe and sound.

But there are these two islands off of the coast- about 45,000 people live there, and the army is heading out to see what is left.

Maha says that the papers belittle the numbers. One can’t quite trust the printed word in India, he tells us.

And other places as well, I suppose.

This afternoon, at a little before three, I hopped on the bus to the manege. My mission : while The Girl has taken the bus to the manege, she has never taken the bus home from the manege. According to plans, we would have about 20 minutes once I stepped off of the bus to catch the next bus home, show her the ropes and all.

We missed the next bus, watched it pull out and head out into the farmlands, ate it’s dust as we stood on the sidewalk, burdened down with doo- dads and must- haves of Bennie’s.

But that was fine and dandy as far as I was concerned, for you see, I was hoping to be able to go and see Bennie, make sure that he was doing well. And now I would have an hour and twenty minutes to do so.

And Bennie is doing more than well, surrounded by a cloud of pre- adolescent horsey girls, begging to care for him.

Bennnie is living in the paradise promised only to the most faithful of believers.

The other day, I found myself giving The Girl lessons in tact. Earlier in the day, during our one, big, happy family day, she had been asked twice how one of her cousins was doing at horse riding. And twice, she rather deftly avoided giving an answer, although she did agree to help them stock up on the essential doo- dads that the child would need.

Later on in the evening, as she and I sat together in my little room of my own, I asked her what she really thought of her cousin’s riding skills, for I had noticed her avoiding giving both her Aunt and Uncle an answer. She rolled her eyes about in her head and stated quite firmly that that child would never ride on Bennie. Bennie wasn’t some manege pony.

Whatever that means.

I sat her down upon my lap- figuratively speaking, of course- and explained, Grasshopper, that there are many ways to say the same thing.

We finally agreed that saying that the cousin was doing reasonably well for a beginner was both true and kind.

And then- together- came up with a plausible story for why the cousin could not ride Bennie, for now.

I’m tired.

I do believe that I have overdosed on personal interaction, face- to- face shit. I look forward to a week of helping with Legos and fun- beads, dressing and re-dressing Barbies and- of course- welcoming Bennnie tomorrow.

The Girl collected all of the horse doo- dads, all of the must- haves this evening, ready to be popped into the business- mobile tomorrow.

I do find myself wondering, though : can one car haul all of this ? How much- exactly- can a business- mobile tote ?