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My interests include veganism and vegetarianism, health, ethics, politics and culture, media, and the environment. I have three kids; I teach college part-time, study piano and attempt to garden. I knit. I blog on just about anything, but many posts are related to my somewhat pathetic quest to eat better, be more mindful of the environment, and be a more responsible news consumer. Sometimes I write about parenting, but, like so many Mommy bloggers, my kids have recently told me not to. :) Thanks for reading.

Friday, April 2, 2010

My Droid, How I Love Thee

Dear Droid --

I. Love. You.

Well, kinda. Like any new relationship, we're having our issues. I'm sure you're aware.

First, Sir Droid, you are not as intuitive as you think. At least not to my admittedly 20th-century phone technology mind. I'm still thrilled by the idea that phones don't have to be wired into the wall. That is, at least, one step past my mother, who still marvels at push buttons rather than rotary dial.

I hate it when you talk to me. I know I'm supposed to love all those sweet nothings you whisper in my ear, but need I remind you I already have a husband? We have to keep our relationship on the down low. Hear that?

I don't need you to burp "droid" every time you think I need to know something. Yes, I put a whole lot of things in that calendar that you so nicely carry around for me. There's five people in my family and I'm responsible for all of us. I do depend on you, dear thing, to help me. And yes, I also made a lengthy to-do list and yes, I've received a few text messages (and written some myself!) and yes, I've even had (gasp!) a voice mail or two. And yes, I installed a twitter application should I feel the urgent need to check twitter when I'm *not* at home.

But that does not mean that you need to remind me, in your annoyingly robotic way, of every. little. thing. Honestly, I still have a brain and I've been told more than once that my memory is damn good. *I* have not yet forgotten a child at daycare. (We won't mention the husband here, OK?)

I cannot figure out how to shut you up.

It's pretty early in our relationship, Droid, for me to be saying that.

But you REALLY ticked me off the other day when I couldn't figure out how to turn off your alarm clock. I had planned, dear Droid, to get up early -- before the kids -- and have a civilized shower and cup of coffee before the morning mayhem. But YOU ruined that by not having an intuitive way to shut you up.

I contemplated throwing you against the wall. And then I remembered how much I had paid for you the day before. Your parents paid me to marry you; at least that's what they told you. The reality is much bleaker and detrimental to my economic reality, so we'll stick with the story that you only have me because I'm willing to take you on. Arranged marriages and all that...

There you go! Beeping at me again! Honestly! Annoying as hell. I don't do that to you -- why do you think it's OK to do that to me? Answer that, huh?!

Back to the other morning --

I did wake up immediately -- that was not the problem. You certainly are loud. You could wake the dead. Even. My. Mother.

Within minutes, all my children were in the bedroom, groaning for me to turn you off. You'd have thought the house alarm was going off and not just a silly bedside alarm clock.

It seems that my mistake was touching your face -- where, indeed, the "dismiss" icon shows up when your alarm goes off -- but I touched your face in the WRONG. PLACE. And then you, silly little thing, decided to hide the icon. I thought that was inconsiderate of you. Honestly, couldn't you have left it up until I saw it?

I still have no idea how I turned you off.

But at least I can say that once, just once, I did figure out how to shut you up.

Let's get this ironed out before I have to trade you in for the old model, who had the decency to stay quiet. I *do* know how to turn off the old alarm clock.

Hugs and kisses, Elaine

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Politeness is always appreciated.