Star Spangled Syndrome*

Before reading a word I have to say, you must bear in mind what my own mother told me on the phone last weekend: “You do not deserve any sympathy at all!” She has always suspected I am out of my mind, but this week confirmed it (again). Many times she has heard me declare adamantly that I’m not going to throw any more humongous parties at my house, but then with the slightest twist of the arm, I’m off half-cocked, planning and inviting.

Erroneously thinking we would have a smallish group this year, I sent out invitations for a 4th of July program and picnic. A friend in another town had actually agreed to host it at her house, but then friends persuaded me to have it here like we have in the past. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, we had 80 people confirmed to attend, and I was sending poor dh out to rent tables, chairs, and revival-tent-like tarps in case it rained.

Aside from immediate family (ahem!), you might say that delegating is not my strong suit. Anyway, besides organizing and hosting the event, doing most of the decorating, I also led music and became the square dance instructor. Yep. Maybe my mother is right. The next day I stayed in bed until way past 7:00 A.M. vowing not to say a word of complaint to Mom, though she would have been sympathetic in spite of herself.

In all, though, I’d have to admit it was well worth the effort. Over 100 people showed up, including several carloads of friends of a friend I was not expecting. It’s always good to have an excuse to have lots of friends over, sing patriotic songs, pray for our nation, shoot off fireworks (sweet revenge to be making all the racket for a change), and of course enjoy a taste of Americana -- KFC, baked beans, brownies, etc. For one day in the year, we can chunk the diet, be proud Americans, and not apologize for our country.

Did any of you find a way to celebrate the 4th of July? I’d love to hear about it.

I’m also curious whether any of you suffers from a certain ex-pat phenomenon where the “Star Spangled Banner” gives you goose bumps and puts a lump in your throat so big you can’t sing? Being a bit of a crybaby myself (remember the “Wedding March” and “Pomp and Circumstance”?), I actually get tears when I try to sing the national anthem or “America the Beautiful.” Even the Pledge of Allegiance sort of gets me. Anyone else?

IRL* I’m insisting to my unbelieving mom that I most definitely am (probably) NOT organizing a ladies’ retreat this summer, no matter what people say!* I wish I could remember which of my international friends first coined this phrase [Star Spangled Syndrome], so I could give her credit. It’s not original.

ETC.

For lack of a better word, etcetera seems to sum up my excuse for not sleeping well all week. Etcetera has either kept me up way past my bedtime, or else awakened me way too early in the morning for a solid stinking week.

Aside from a local missionary ladies retreat I’m helping to organize for this coming weekend and a garage sale to finally get rid of the junk I cleared out of closets and storage back in January, really not much is happening. Oh, and planning an unexpected trip to California for the summer. Ha! Like an hour goes by without that invading my thoughts.

Beyond all that, it’s the etcetera that is keeping me awake at night. Too much is on my mind. My ddil’s college graduation I missed on Saturday, a dear friend’s recent miscarriage the first week of furlough-not-a-vacation, a son’s birthday today a thousand miles away, and even vain petty thoughts like who is going to cut my hair in California for an affordable price so I can look decent for another son’s Wisconsin wedding in July, and will I succeed in dropping a few extra pounds before then?

As if all that weren’t enough to disturb sleep, this is the hottest month of the year in southern Mexico, which means open windows at night to draw in the cool mountain breeze. It also means dogs barking and extra noise all night long. To top it off, a neighbor just put up a huge striped tarp (picture a revival tent) across the dirt road from us. That means only one thing: PARTY. Maybe it’s the same in your country. Party in the neighborhood means bad music blaring all night long from enormous speakers, vibrating our adobe house right to the foundation. Another excuse for not sleeping. Yawn.

I sure hope the upcoming retreat allows me to relax and catch up on some sleep. At the same time I hope my snoring doesn’t disturb my roommates’ sleep too much. Etc.

By the way, thanks so much for those potty stories from last week. Even though they did nothing to help induce sleep, they did provide the laughs that I was seeking! I love the comments! Keep ‘em coming.

IRL*ETC=Extra-Tired-Chick!