Division of Labor

After nearly 27 years of marriage (buy your anniversary cards now!) Husband and I have come to a tacit agreement on the division of labor in the QueenBee household.

He worries about politics, I worry about the Olympics.

I know. It doesn't quite seem fair that he only has the weight of the nation on his shoulders, while my burden is the ENTIRE WORLD, but it works for us. This way, when election day rolls around, he and Boy#1 can discuss the minutia of each vote's meaning, and whether the right-leaning Thisocrat is more dangerous than the left-leaning Thatican. Or vice versa, I'm never sure which it should be. I can spend the same evening knitting and watching "Chopped" on the Food Network.

I only know that this morning my house has bluebirds singing in wreaths around the chimney, like those old-timey cartoons. If Husband whistled while he shaved (and if he shaved), today's song choice would be "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah."

I, on the other hand, am wondering if Michael Phelps will be back in shape by 2012.

We're a pretty good team.