Family time is different in a wired home
Leada Gore, Editor
As with most modern households, the Gore family is a wired one. We have a million remote controls to go along with the array of digital equipment, most of which I don't know how to use. We have speakers, wires, woofers and tuners; DVD, MP3 and CD players. And, of course, there are computers.
Greg has a computer in his study, a room I have been banished from since the first time I mentioned paint and curtains in regards to its decor. I bring my laptop home most nights and, when Greg's son Derek is at our house, he's usually on the computer in his room.
It's not uncommon for there to be three computers running at the same time, making any communication amongst those in the house an interesting thing.
Take Sunday night, for example. I was doing some work in the living room on my computer when I glanced up and saw it was 6 p.m. Being the lazy soul I am, I opted for modern communication instead of getting out of my chair and walking into the study.
"Are you hungry?" I asked Greg in an email sent to his computer. "What do you want for supper?"
A minute later, my computer chimed to let me know I had received an incoming message.
"Doesn't matter to me. Whatever you want" the email read. I mulled my options. I needed something quick, easy and something that used the ingredients I had on hand.
Closing the email program, I opened the internet and looked up "quick recipes." A web site popped up listing an array of easy to make dinners. I copied one, pasted it into an email and hit print. Seconds later, a simple recipe for chicken and broccoli casserole popped out. I opened up my email again.
"We're having chicken and broccoli casserole," I wrote. "Be ready in about 30 minutes."
This is when it occurred to me that I had to get up out of the chair, walk into the kitchen and actually cook. This wasn't the old "Jetsons" cartoon – there wasn't a button I could push and have supper cook itself. I went into the kitchen and got busy. Thirty minutes later, the casserole was done, as were the salad and bread.
I walked into the study and poked my head through the door. "Supper is ready," I said.
Greg replied with a sudden start.
"You scared me to death," he said. "I wasn't expecting you to actually come in here."
I turned around and went back to my computer, composing another email. It read: "Dear Greg, Supper is ready. I will email you your dinner in just a minute."
Isn't modern technology wonderful?