"Wait Till the Sun Shines, Nellie"

Sometimes I just know too much. I would have liked this song better had I not known that the composer was inspired by the story of a man and his daughter who had lost the rest of their family in a fire. The father was determinedly optimistic. The composer transferred this sentiment to a young couple in love who are disappointed because a picnic is rained out. Somehow, this suffers greatly in translation, in my eyes.

My husband has been elected president of the School Board for my daughter's school. I'm excited for him, I think this will be a great growth opportunity for him, as much as I do not look forward to the increased number of hours that will be required to do this commitment justice.

I was joking with some of my friends at the school the other day, we speculated about what I would wear to the inaugural ball as First Lady, whether my gown would then be on display. What type of first lady would I be: Barbara, Hillary, Laura? How about Nancy or Rosalynn? For that matter, what about Martha, Abigail, Eleanor, Mamie, Jackie, Lady Bird? What would my agenda be? Power behind the throne? Obliging little wife? Busy with humanitarian aid? Walking the family pooch? What's my motto?

For me, that is the clearest. My motto: 'La, la, la, don't tell me anything, la, la, la, I'll just read it in the newsletter with everyone else, la, la, la, I'm not listening. . .'

It's not that I don't want to support my husband, it's very much that I don't want to unnecessarily taint my interactions with the staff or other parents at my daughter's school. There are many things that I simply don't need to know. I do think that a selective lack of curiosity is a useful skill to have in one's arsenal.

I think I learned this to some degree from my mother. My mom was always great at keeping secrets, mine, and everyone else's. It was never any use trying to wheedle them out of her, and I came to know that in most cases, it really doesn't matter if I don't know. It's much more energy efficient as well. La, la, la. . .