In craft and technology news, it turns out I'm still not good at either

Because I have a few friends who are having babies, I decided to get out the old knitting bag and do something more useful with my time than reading murder mysteries and waiting anxiously for "Us Weekly" to come in the mail, although honestly there isn't anything much more worthwhile than that. Even though I've tried three or four times in the past with the same end result (throwing the knitting needles down in frustration, shouting something like, "I will never finish this!" and moving on to something more do-able, like maybe taking a nap) I decided I'd try to knit a baby blanket again, which I think is kind of like punishment for knitters, not just for mediocre knitters like me, but for everybody. Because it takes forever. Not that I'd know, I've never finished one. Know why I've never finished one? That's right, I just told you, it takes FOREVER and I unfortunately don't have that kind of patience. Which is why it's amazing that I knit at all.

This time, however - even though I've already messed up and had to start over two times, and even though I probably won't complete this thing until five years now, but hey, people will still be having babies then, right? - I've decided to see it through. And when I finish I'll post a picture on the site and we will have a party. And that party will probably involve me not doing anything crafty again for a long time because I will be very, very worn out.

Another frustration this week is that I've been trying to figure out a way to make my blog header (the part with the birds up above that says "www.caramcduna.com") into a link that will take you, the reader, back to the current homepage when you click it. So let's say you're enjoying a post of mine from 2006. And you're like, "Hey this girl is alright," and you want to see what I wrote about recently. Well, then you'd just click the header, just like on most webpages, and be immediately directed to a homepage with all my most recent posts (right now, you can click the "Home" link in the upper right hand corner of the header, but it's pretty small and difficult to see).

The thing is, I'm not very good at making that happen either. So if any of you computer geniuses out there can tell me a simple way to do it, I will give you a million dollars. Or a shout out on the blog. Whatever seems more appropriate at the time.

Is this love?

This morning I was getting ready for work, pulling on some tights I'd yanked from the makeshift underwear drawer I've been using in the spare bedroom and a skirt I'd found in the pile of clothes that habitually sits on the computer chair in the bedroom where we sleep. As I was dressing, trying to make record time (no makeup, no fun jewelry, reminding myself to toast an English muffin to eat in the car on the way to the train), J, who would drive me to the station and then return home to dress at a more leisurely and civilized pace, turned over and started sleepily telling me about some abstract situation, thus striking dread in my heart, because damnit, he was telling me about his dream.

"I was in, like, a conference room, and then I saw some of my friends, and then - no - wait, first I was in a meeting, and then..."

I looked at him in disbelief, because seriously, how many times have I told him not to do this? Not to tell me about his dreams? Millions. Maybe more than that.

I realize saying I don't like to hear about peoples' dreams sounds cruel almost. Like, "Hey, you know that cool story you wanted to tell me? The one that doesn't make any sense and you think is really, really funny? Well, that sounds great, but seriously, shut it."

But come on, admit it. Hearing someone else's dream - unless you happen to play a major role in it - is boring, right up there with listening to someone tell you the plot of a movie or TV show you haven't seen. It's even worse than most boring things, because the other person involved obviously thinks this dream is the most awesome thing that ever happened, and you have two choices: pretend you're enjoying while muffling groans and frantically racking your brain for some excuse to change the subject or tell that person you DO NOT want to hear it and risk hurting their feelings.

With J, however, I mean, we're married, and being straight up about stuff doesn't mean we're hurting each other's feelings like it might have when we were first dating. "Don't go out in your sweatpants," "You have funny looking toes," "Please, no more birds today." We're over it.

So when J wakes up and says, "You will NOT BELIEVE this dream I had last night!" I feel it's my right to remind him that I absolutely, under no circumstances want him to tell me. No matter how intrigued he thinks I am. Even if you had a dream that you were in an episode of "The Sopranos." Even if you had a dream that you were at a party with some guy from high school that you haven't seen for 15 years. Especially not then.

My friend Jennifer, who hates hearing other peoples' dreams as much as I do, said her rule is that she only wants to hear about the dream if she's in it and/or you can summarize the dream in 20 seconds or less. I think that last part is an excellent guideline because the length of time it takes most people to fully explain, in agonizing detail, what they dreamed about is one of the most excruciating parts of the whole ordeal. "Wait, I was in the room, but then...my dad was there, oh my God! And my roommate from college! So were were all going to this party....and, oh - wait! NOW I remember....first I was at the doctor's office and for some crazy reason the doctor kept making me drink all this orange juice, but hold on, even before that I was in this sailboat..."

Really? FOR REAL? OH MY GOD, I don't care! I DON'T CARE!

The thing is, of course, my husband isn't going to stop telling me his dreams and I'm probably never going to get violent enough to force him to. So I suppose this back and forth will remain one of the charming little anecdotes of our marriage. And if not there's always the old "Just keep talking, I'm going into the next room but I'm still listening" routine (a.k.a. exit stage left, turn on hairdryer, drown it out).