Have you ever watched one of those Twilight Zone episodes where you wake up in another dimension or another universe that is almost the same, but not quite?

Living here in the Midwest is like that for me. I grew up in the South. Sometimes I'm lulled by the similarities into a pleasant stupor of familiarity. Then other times I'm abruptly jerked back to reality.

This is one of those times!

This is the Fourth Of July weekend. I suspect even foreigners know what that means. But do they grasp the concept here? No, they do not.

There is no parade. WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE DON'T HAVE A FOURTH OF JULY PARADE!?! I have NEVER lived anywhere that there wasn't a July 4th parade. And, yes gentle reader, I've lived outside the Deep South for many years. They had a great parade in Oregon. They had a great parade in Michigan. Here? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Well, I suppose nothing is a bit strong. There's an expensive little parking-lot-carnival in town and there'll be fireworks when the carnival closes at 11:00pm. Yeah, I'll be keeping the kids up until almost MIDNIGHT for the fireworks!

Thats a real sign of respect. Veterans and patriots don't get a Fourth of July parade, but everyone is SO thrilled with having a St.Patricks day parade for drunk frat-boys. (Sorry the tenor of this post is going downhill. The more I think about it, the more ticked I get)

So, how was I expecting to spend the Fourth? Well, I envisioned it much the way other years have gone. Watching a parade full of veterens and musicians and politicians and horses and antique tractors and vintage cars and Shriners and bands and boy-scouts and bicycles and fire-trucks and clowns. Watching a parade with my children wide-eyed, waving their flags from the curb, dressed attractively in red/white/blue. Maybe going to a cookout with fried chicken (or burgers, or ribs) and corn-on-the-cob fresh from the farmer's market and a kiddie-pool full of ice and watermelons. Children playing in the sprinklers while adults drink sweet-iced-tea-with-lemon on the porch.

Aieeeee. If I keep this up I'm going to bawl like a baby!

So. First, I need a plan.

Its too late for this year, but there will be other years. Lets focus on what I can do instead of crying over spilt milk.

I can have a cookout next year. A REAL cookout. A real SOUTHERN cookout. These people have to learn sometime. Its not that the locals are stupid or communists, I just think they haven't been exposed to a slightly higher standard than "Oooooo, lets drink green beer." I think they WANT to do better, they just don't know how. I know how, and I'm going to help them! It will become a yearly event!

(Note to husband: A party every six months isn't the end of the world. We can have the one in December and add one in July) (Note to Gentle Readers: My husband puts a lot of effort into my parties, although he doesn't really enjoy parties, and I appreciate it. Its a blessing to have a non-whiny husband, which will lead to another post next week)

In a few years, maybe I can organize a parade. We'll see. Thats iffy. I'll need to wait until the new baby is at least potty-trained. And I'll need to learn about parade management, which I currently know nothing about. However, I'm a fully functional adult and there's no reason I can't learn.

(Note to Gentle Readers: It just dawned on me that my husband doesn't really enjoy parades any more than parties. Hmmm. Wonder how we ended up together!?!)