A quiet day (so far?)

Well, today has been quiet, apart from planes flying overhead. It's funny, because we were all convinced that today would be the day the army would move in to Gaza. I have mixed feelings about the army moving in. On the one hand, I think we've done about as much as we can from the air (memories of Lebanon...) and it is precisely because of the memories of Lebanon that I'm worried about "going in". As most of you know, Adi was a tank instructor (in fact, if she hadn't finished her time in the army, she'd probably be somewhere near Gaza now) which means she knows a tremendous amount of soldiers in the tank divisions. I hate to think what effect any 'losses' would have on her personally. Add to that the fact that her boyfriend, Itai, is there too.



These poor guys have been waiting since the beginning of the week, sleeping with their boots on ready for any unexpected change in the situation, and were only allowed to go to have a shower yesterday. Adi heard that they were being given a short break today somewhere not far from here, so we sent her to the supermarket to load up with burekas (cheese-filled pastries), freshly-baked croissants, biscuits, cakes and juice. It won't exactly remind them of home, but hopefully it will let them know that we are all thinking about them. Adi called one of them, and asked what she could bring and he insisted that she didn't need to bring anything. She in turn insisted until he said "Maybe a bottle of cola". The problem is that the world sees "Israeli soldiers" as the Goliath that faces the Palestinian David, and not as young kids who like to drink cola just like any other average young person in the west. These soldiers are just 19- or 20-year-old kids who joined the army immediately after school, not necessarily because they wanted to but because they had to. Unlike the Hamas terrorists who have made an active choice to risk their lives and try to kill civilians, our boys would probably like nothing more than to be at the Shabbat table in a warm house with their families this evening. Let's hope they all come home soon.



As for us, Sari and I drove to Qiryat Malachi which is about 20 minutes away and also in the danger zone. We went to do some shopping at an outlet (yes, Dorit - Qiryat Malachi now has an outlet!!!) and there weren't many people there at all, and shops have signs which say things like "We have a shelter inside the shop!" Needless to say, the restaurant where Adi works has suffered a lot over the past week - their New Year celebrations were a disaster with the staff more or less outnumbering the customers.



In a few hours, we are going to have our Shabbat meal with the rest of the family (we do it by rotation, each week at a different brother's house). We'll be fewer than usual, as Anat, Oded's wife, decided to 'evacuate' her children to her mother's house on Kibbutz Tzora, and she will be with them tonight. The sirens were just having too serious an effect on the youngest two. Their area ( the moshav where Sari's parents also live) has had a lot of alarms. I feel sorry for Sari's parents whose house has absolutely no protection and there is no working public shelter nearby. (Ironically, there is a shelter opposite their house but it has been sadly neglected by the local authorities and it is therefore unfit for use). Every time there's an alert, all they can do is sit and wait. We've all tried to persuade them to come to stay with us but they don't want to. I can understand them in a way, since we have also had many invitations from friends (who live in the centre or north of the country) to come and stay with them, but everyone seems to prefer their own corner... at least, for as long as they can stand it.



It's been a longer blog today - you've been subjected to more of my opinions than I had planned! In conclusion, today has been a 'good' day. It just makes you wonder if it is the lull before the storm...