dianaschnuth

One of my co-workers is pregnant with twins — girls, most likely. I overheard her saying that she and her husband had actually started their children’s college fund with last year’s tax return, before they even started trying for a baby (and before they got two for the price of one).

That made me think: should we be thinking about our future child’s education?

I mean, both Aaron and I had to take out loans to pay for our own college, and we’ll probably be paying on them until we retire. Literally. How would it be different if I didn’t have that expense now, and if I had known back then that I wouldn’t have that expense in the future? Would that have changed my young-adult relationship with my mother? Would I have worked harder, by virtue of someone else paying my way? Or would I just not have this $45 grand to pay off now?

Now that I think about it, we *would* like to enroll our child or children in private school at some point, and St. John’s costs just about as much as a community college. Should we be saving for that, too, or just hoping that our kid will test high enough to get a scholarship, or that we’ll be considered poor enough for him to get financial aid?

It’s weird stuff to think about. Especially when we haven’t even started trying to make this hypothetical future college student yet. I’d imagine that, once that other human being is actually in the picture, staring at me, I’ll probably feel different about providing for it. Right now, though, it just feels like, “I had to pay for my own college, kiddo, and so will you. Deal.”

I’m in quite a mood this holiday season. I’m not sure how to describe it, or what caused it, but I’m just not enthused about Christmas this year.

The cat has made our prelit Christmas tree her personal playground by chewing through one of the wires and playing with the ornaments. Now only the top half of the tree is decorated, and the bottom tier of branches is no longer lit.

My great-uncle died this month; and while I don’t particularly miss him, not having seen him for over 15 years, his passing serves as a reminder of how rarely I see my remaining family anymore. I have no family nearby, and no friends — well, Aaron’s friends are my friends now, but it’s not quite the same. It’s not like I’m planning to exchange gifts with them. (Note to my friends that were Aaron’s friends first: if you’re planning to get me a gift, you might want to give me a heads-up, so I can find something for you…)

Christmas songs have been maddening this year, too. Like nails on a chalkboard. In years past, they’ve been merely annoying to me. This year, though, they’re driving me to rage, and I don’t know why.

After being in drum & bugle corps, it occurs to me that if a Little Drummer Boy played his drum for an infant… I don’t care if it was for the Son of God or the brat down the street, but at the sound of up-close, live percussion, any infant would instantly start crying bloody murder. There would be no cute baby smiling involved.

Every time I hear “Sleigh Ride,” I think of that very first Christmas Concert I played with the high school Wind Ensemble, after I first learned to play clarinet and somehow landed the first chair clarinet spot. None of the clarinets could play the high notes; none of us knew how to play notes that high. It sounded horrible. And the trumpets couldn’t get the rhythm of the jazzy section, so the most interesting section of “Sleigh Ride” was left on the proverbial cutting room floor.

I don’t understand my mood at all. I can have moments of genuinely enjoying myself with my co-workers — but as soon as I return to my desk, I’m back to the same depressed rut I was in before. I just don’t get it.

And we’re supposed to get at least six inches of snow during the day today. Chances are that the employees who live farther away may be sent home early, and those of us who live in town will stay until 5:00. That’s not helping my mood at all. (Edit: No one got to leave early, and the roads really weren’t that bad by 5pm.)

Merry Freakin’ Christmas.

The first snow is falling.

There’s a fine white mist outside my office window, and I’m unsure whether it makes me excited for the holidays or not. The child in me wants to be giddy and happy about snow and Thanksgiving and having four days off in a row. The adult in me is not thrilled about travelling to Cleveland tomorrow with a Winter Storm Warning in effect, not to mention walking to my car after work today in the bitter cold.

I really want to be excited about the holidays, but it’s just not there.

Thanksgiving this year just seems kind of underwhelming, somehow. Aaron’s dad made the point that it’s kind of depressing, going to holidays now: Grammie and Poppa are getting old, finally, and Aaron’s aunt is going into a nursing home next week. Watching so many people decline in different ways at the same time is just saddening. Plus, now that holidays are being held at Uncle Pete’s house, he doesn’t seem to want or need our help with dinner; the old potluck-style Thanksgivings at Grammie and Poppa’s made us feel needed, somehow.

Then there’s the upcoming holiday season. Christmas, Yule, Ramadan, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, insert-your-holiday-here. Not looking forward to that. I don’t really have a list of people to buy presents for anymore, which really takes the fun out of the holidays for me. Now it’s really just Aaron I’m buying for, plus shippable presents for my own scattered family members.

I could try being all artsy-craftsy and making the pine bough wreaths and garlands I’ve been thinking about, but I know the cat would try to eat them (since they smell like Outside), and the sap would probably ooze onto the walls and furniture, and eventually the needles would start to drop on the floor and generally make a mess.

What an un-cheery point of view I seem to have. Maybe I’ll get into it as the winter wears on.

The steady, powdery snowfall is starting to accumulate now. Happy Thanksgiving.

Tacked onto the bottom of a forward I received today at work:

Hunt the terrorists to the ends of the earth. Since most of the people of the United States, indeed most of the world’s population, will not live their lives as the terrorists demand it the only way to make the world safe. The terrorists will not be allowed to rest, regroup, or lay low. Death, not capture, is the only way to deal with zealots who will not compromise on their goal of a non-tolerate Islamite one world religion/government.

The co-worker that forwarded the e-mail to me did so just so I could see this amazing worldview that someone had apparently included as a sig. WTF. We both agreed that this approach is just as scary as the terrorists’.

And… “non-tolerate”? “Islamite”? Way to convert the intelligent citizens of the U.S. to your cause.

Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be in such a loving and trusting relationship? Have I told teh intarweb lately how much I love my husband?

*sucks in a deep breath*

I LOVE THIS MAN.

Not for any reason in particular do I bring this up today. I was just thinking about us, after reading about and thinking about some of my friends’ failed and failing relationships. That, and I found a draft copy of our wedding vows (and some leftover wedding programs) as I was cleaning this evening:

I Aaron/Diana take Diana/Aaron to be my Honey Muffin (husband) / Boobie Doobie (wife) and to:

• trust each other and be trustworthy
• support one another in our worldly endeavors
• continue to share our thoughts and feelings, our hopes and desires
• and to love and cherish each other for the rest of our lives.

We have a really awesome relationship, and I count myself very, very lucky to be with Aaron.

This sounds like I’m patting myself on the back for being so cool in light of my friends’ relationship problems. That’s not how I mean it; this is more of a counting-my-blessings sort of feeling. Also, I feel genuinely sorry for my friends who don’t have this kind of relationship. One friend is coming to the end of a long, strange relationship and forging ahead in a better one. Another friend discovered that their spouse had posted a profile online at Match.com, claiming to be separated and looking for romance. Still others seem to be happy, I guess, but it’s hard to tell for sure.

We’re best friends, Aaron and I, and we like many of the same things. We do have our differences, though, and some of them are major parts of our lives. (Aaron, for instance, is not any kind of drum corps enthusiast. I, on the other hand, can’t STAND the Evil Dead movies I’ve seen.) But we’re OK with that. I go off for drum corps rehearsals and performances every other weekend, and he deals. He’s going off for a male bonding weekend up at Hemlock Lake this Saturday, and I’m perfectly OK with that (especially after all my drum corps trips). I’m happy to give him all the time he can spend with his friends, given that they hardly want to hang out anymore (due to wives, kids, and general lameness).

In conclusion, let me share some photos of where Aaron’s going this weekend. I went there with him and his friend Kris and Kris’s wife back in July 2002. It was a great time… until Kris’s wife and I got horribly sunburned and we had to leave a little early. Behold:

Click the last photo to see myself and Kris’s wife in all our sunburnt glory.

At any rate, I leave you with this paraphrased bit of advice I recall from my old buddy Timmay: If you’re in a relationship, and it’s not making you happy, then get out. Why are you spending your life with someone, if not to be happy with them? Life is too short to stay miserable.

Life is too short. Go be happy.