Petulance

Petulance

There is a petulant child residing inside my head, and that child is me.  No matter what I do to try to coax her into action, either with soft words, treats, begging pleas, or yelling; she sits there tautly, arms crossed shaking her head, and saying “No” repeatedly.  I am just about at my wits end with this child, which is me.  What do you want for dinner, I think.  No idea, I respond.  I can’t seem to make up my mind on something as simple as that.  Never mind more major decisions like what to take out of the closet to wear to work.  I’m literally numb and frozen in my inability to make a decision, and frankly I hate it.  That petulant child is what I picture in my mind’s eye as being the cause of this internal melodrama.  She is the source of my inability to think and act clearly and decisively.  The only problem is why is she here?  I cannot think of any cause that would justify her presence.  My life is happy, my family is well, and I am humbly grateful for all that the good Lord as seen fit to send my way, so then why this internal strife and suffering?  Why do I castigate myself for every misstep, every wrong thought, and allow my worries about nonsensical things consume me so?  Why as this little child decided to come into my mind and plant her plump bottom in the middle of the clutter that is my brain? 

I enjoy writing, I enjoy playing games, and I enjoy reading.  Writing especially brings me a sense of peace and repose.  It provides an outlet for the endless chatter that echoes through the halls of my mind.  I helps to ease my anxiety and worry in a way that is better than any medicine a doctor may prescribe.  Yet when I begin to pressure myself to write more, to take a more definite action to pursuing it, I freeze and that petulant child who was happily playing in the corner raises her brilliant blue eyes and I can see the tension arising in her as she stares at me.  Out she marches, saying “No” repeatedly and sulks as I try to prod her out of the way.  The more I try to force her to move the more she resists; she is a stubborn girl I’ll give her that.  But then again, she is me! 

This ongoing back and forth between my adult self and my child self is driving me crazy and this inner turmoil spills over the dams and floods into the other unrelated areas of my life.  I begin to think that I am missing out on something; there is more that I can offer both for myself and those around me; I begin to doubt myself, my purpose, and what it really all means!.  Everything is colored in gray and dulled as I try to reason with this child, myself. 

I have much to be thankful for, a loving boyfriend who is my partner and better half; a mother who is my best friend and guiding light in my life; a job that brings me immense satisfaction and I enjoy doing.  I am grateful for these things in my life, and humbled that I have been so blessed; yet it still feels like there is something more that I can be doing, should be doing, and therein lies my melodrama, and that petulant child, that road block, is certainly not giving me any answers when I peg her with questions of why she is her and just what the hell she wants, but then again there sometimes can be no reasoning with a child when they in the middle of a tantrum.  So where does that leave me?

The Person I Admire Most

A common writing assignment that is given in school is to write an essay about a person, either historical or fictional, that you admire.  I always groaned when this assignment was given because I felt that it was just busy work assigned by my teacher and there really weren't any people that I admired.  Yet now, as I have grown older, I reflect back and I can see how such a droll assignment can actually serve a good purpose.  So here I am a grown woman sitting down to write an essay about the person I most admire, voluntarily and excitedly.  The person that I admire most in this world is not historical, thankfully, or fictional, although she would make one hell of a character, but is a living breathing person who just happens to be my mother.  My mother’s name is Gloria.

My mom has graced us with her presence for an undetermined period of time; her actual age is a highly guarded national secret.  Although I can account for a certain period of time since she did bring me into this world I still can’t even guess at her age since my own age is unknown even to me.  I guess this is just so her secret will remain safe.  My mom is a petite woman, who, if I may be candid, is absolutely beautiful.  I'm quite proud of that because those wonderful genes also course through my veins.  She may be petite, but her character and vivacious personality, are quite large and in charge.

To use my mom's favorite phrase to describe herself, she is fierce.  Over the years, she has been called the dragon lady due to the flames she breathes when angered, the tiger lady due to her protective nature, and the hammer for crashing through obstacles in her path and beating sense into people who are being dense, namely me.  While these descriptions may be true and describe certain aspects of my mom’s personality, they do not accurately describe the full, deep and complex woman that is Gloria.

The depth of my mom's soul is breathtaking.  She is an “old soul,” sorry Mom, who has experienced so much life and has such wisdom that it amazes me.  Regardless of life's harshness, my mom remains compassionate, loving, and empathetic to others.  She is selfless, generous in time and spirit, and immensely intelligent.  She is also fiercely loyal and protective of her friends and family.  I have several stories of her standing up for me against bullies and idiotic boyfriends.  She has always been there to save my ass when the proverbial stuff hit the fan, no matter the cost or situation.  I admire these traits so much because they show her determination, her immense ability to love deeply and strongly, and her inner steel that has been forged by many fires over the years.

My mom also has a wicked sense of humor and loves to laugh.  Humor has saved her, and me, many times over the years.  "Oh my dog," a line spoken by a talking cat from a YouTube video, always sends her into instant peals of laughter.  I also pride myself on having the ability to send my mom into instant giggle fits.  One time I remember sitting with her in a quiet, darkened theater being absolutely bored to tears by the pianist playing on stage; all it took was for me to start making faces and mimicking the piano player and a rather loud giggle fit ensued.  The only cure was to bury her head into her friend's jacket as our fellow audience members glared and shushed us.

Mom has an extremely dry wit, and only those that are in the know usually get her references and jokes.  She is cynical to a fault, but uses this in a humorous way to bring out the lightness of even the toughest situations to make them just a little more bearable.  My mom’s quick wit also gives her the talent to create imaginary marriages between people with odd last names to create a great punch line.  An example would be Mr. Grand married Ms. Old Time and together they were Mr. and Mrs. Grand Old Time.  I’m also quite proud of the fact that my mom can curse like a drunken sailor.  The cause for these cursing streaks is usually me, her pain in the ass daughter, and she holds the record for working the f-word into one sentence nine times and having it make sense.  That's my mom for you!

She is also known as Mother Earth for her natural talent to commune with animals of all kinds; her favorites being cats and squirrels.  If there is an animal in need it will find her.  She is probably the only person I know who has had a stray lovebird land on her shoulder while she was outside smoking at lunch.  She had no idea where this little bird came from, but one thing she did know was that it was coming home with her that night.  The bird remained with us until our cats tried to assassinate him one to many times.  It has since moved on to a more bird friendly home.  My mom is also a “peanut dealer” to a whole dray of squirrels at her office.  No matter where she is any animals in the vicinity will make their way to her, cats, birds, squirrels, rodents, lizards, and even ants.  I personally think, no make that know, that she is in constant communication with St. Francis, the patron saint of animals and also the guardian of our family. 

I guess the one downside of her animal talents is that insects are also drawn to her, usually in her car, and she usually discovers them while driving.  I remember her story of the big black spider that decided to make its presence known by crawling down the car door as she was getting in during a wicked rain storm.  Let’s just say the umbrella ate the spider!  Or the time when lizards, frogs and ants decided to hitch a ride with her on her way to work; thankfully this “plague” did not happen all at once, but close enough to cause her to carry a bottle of raid with her whenever she approached the car.  Every talent has its drawbacks right.

I also admire my mom for not backing down or folding when times get hard, she is made of steel.  As family we have faced many challenges over the years, but it has been my mom that has carried us, usually kicking and screaming, out of the muck and helped to us make sense of it all. She has also saved my butt many times.  For some reason she never stops believing in me even after I have made some royally stupid mistakes.  I cannot count how many times that I have sat with her and cried and moaned over my troubles, and she was there to support, yell at, and cajole me out of funk.

Needless to say my mom is an extremely fierce woman whom I love so very much.  She has helped me to become the woman that I am today, usually through sheer force of will on her part since I'm so damned stubborn.  She has taught me how to take care of myself and to stand up for what I believe in.  Yet, most importantly, she has taught me to love deeply, laugh often and live each day to its fullest.  I hope that one day I can achieve the beauty, class, grace, wisdom, and love that she embodies so effortlessly; and these are the reasons why the person I most admire is my mom who is one hell of a lady.  

Mountains Out of Mole Hills

Mountains Out of Mole Hills

For many years, I was extremely talented in making mountains out of mole hills.  In fact, my Mom would always tease me and say that I was making too much of an issue out of something that really wasn't that big of one.  I would always sneer and say yeah right, and continue on with trekking through the "lawn" that was infested with mole hills of my own creation.  

I worried constantly, and then worried about my worrying.  I was the perfect example of circular logic or a dog chasing its tail.  I used to make my parents frustrated because all they would hear from me was about my worries, over and over again; every day, wash, rinse and repeat.  

I was consumed by my worries!  If my hair was frizzy and didn't look right I thought I was ugly and worried about that.  If my beau said something off color to me, or teased me about something, I would worry that they really thought of me that way.  I'd worry about work, I'd worry about my cats, I'd worry about money, my car, how was I going to pay rent, whether or not my friends really liked me, was I really that shallow of a person, where was I going with my life, what did I want to do with myself, was I being a good daughter, were my parents proud of me; you get the idea. Pretty much anything that one can worry about I certainly did.  And my worries that started as mole hills escalated into insurmountable mountains!  I was a wreck, although I didn't know that and I carried on this way for years.  

Then one day, I really truly did have a realistic worry that was truly a mountain, that being my dad going into the hospital for what would be the last time.  To keep a long story short, my dad had a myriad of health issues that he dealt with for over 17 years.  He was a long time dialysis patient in kidney failure, he had a chronic heart condition, and emphysema.  Basically, anything that could go wrong with a human body did in his case.  Yet through each health issue he fought valiantly through it with truly a minimal bit of worry.  He overcame the issue; we all did.  It goes without saying that I also worried about my Dad's health all of the time.   

In 2010, when I was in fact faced with the biggest worrying event possible, instead of reverting to chasing my own tail and spinning out of control, I was calm and dealt with the facts as they arose.  After 17 years of fighting and overcoming the obstacles, my Dad was given some very hard news, and he bravely decided to stop health treatment.  We lost him a few days later when he was under the wonderful and amazing care of the Hospice facility. 

For some reason I wasn't worried about his passing.  For some very strange reason I was calm and accepting of something that was so utterly devastating.  I won't lie I was an emotional wreck after he died, but my Mom and I supported, loved and hugged each other through the dark places, and we both emerged from our grief missing my Dad terribly, but realizing that life must go on.  

That calmness and lack of worrying as stuck with me ever since.  Its weird, but in facing what was truly a mountain, and not a make believe one, it helped to teach me what is really important in this life.  So while I may feel myself reverting to my old worry habits from time to time, I just remember that calmness and embrace it as fully as I can.  I try not to worry about the small stuff as much, and my "lawn" is now almost free of mole hills.  I still have my crazy worry days from time to time, I guess its my gift to make mountains out of mole hills, but I have learned to not let those worries control me and to know the difference between the real mountain and the fake ones.  

Wolf Friendship

Wolf Friendship

The Retirement Home for Elderly Wolves was set in the farthest reaches of the wolf community, and only the wolves that could either afford the long trek or were especially dedicated pups would visit their parents and grandparents that were residents.  Wolfe never had any visitors.  He often felt that the entire wolfing community had forgotten his existence, even though he was one of its most infamous members; even more than that other wolf who happened to be full of hot air and had a distinct taste for pork.  No, Wolfe, was not surprised that he had become an outcast.  In fact, he could have predicted it, even before the events of that fateful day, when all he wanted was some simple friendship and maybe to ask a question of a little girl wearing a red hood.

Wolfe had always been a lone wolf among his kind.  Since his youth he disdained wolf packs and their resultant pack mentality.  He could never quite understand why wolves felt the desire to belong in a group that was based on your ranking within the pack and not based on mutual friendship and respect.  Wolfe knew instinctively that if he joined a pack he would rank as the Omega, the bottom most wolf, who would have to eke out his survival on the scraps left behind by the other higher ranking wolves.  He couldn’t have stood being ridiculed and the butt of the jokes from his fellow pack members.  So given Wolfe’s strong sense of individuality, independence and dislike for wolf packs, Wolfe decided to go it alone; which placed him on the fringe of wolf society.  During his youth, Wolfe explored far and wide in the forests and valleys that surrounded his home.

Wolfe was also different from his brethren, in that he was of a philosophical nature.  He always tried to learn the inner workings of the forest and the lives of the creatures living there.  Wolfe was full of questions and often spent days trying to communicate with the woodland creatures.  He wanted to know their thoughts on family, how they survived in the woods, and most importantly what they believed friendship meant; was true friendship based on mutual respect or simply your ranking in the group.  Yet, given that Wolfe was in fact a wolf, many of the animals he tried to speak with ran from him in fear before he could utter his first words to convey that he meant them no harm.  Wolfe spent many years in this fashion and only a few of the bravest woodland creatures would deign to converse with him, mainly bears, bobcats and panthers.  Wolfe’s knowledge grew and he began to wonder more about friendship; it was something he wanted to experience for himself. 

During his travels Wolfe also had opportunities to observe and study humans from a distance.  He watched them at work, at play and caring for their families.  He watched their interactions with each other that were often based on the respect and love that he envisioned as the true meaning of friendship.  Humans were independent, yet they decided to forge bonds with their families and friends by their own choice, which suited Wolfe’s beliefs.  He decided that he would like to speak to a human and ask them how they achieve such a state and what, their meaning of friendship was.  Yet, Wolfe knew that humans feared wolves, so he needed to devise a plan in which he could approach one in a non-threatening way.  Wolfe also believed that he could have a human as a friend, and by having that, his desire for friendship would be resolved, and he would have chosen it based on the respect and affection that he felt for humans, and not on the pack mentality and ranking that were practiced by his kind. 

It just so happened that one day Wolfe came across a cottage.  He was quite surprised to see a human dwelling this far out in the wilderness.   He stopped to observe the activities of the homestead for several days.  Wolfe was able to determine that an elderly woman lived alone in the cottage.   He heard her singing and talking to herself.  He learned that the woman had a young granddaughter that she loved beyond words, and that her granddaughter would be coming to visit her in the next few days.  Wolfe felt that this little girl was his best opportunity to form a friendship with a human.  After all, he had come to understand that it was the youngest of the species that were the most open to exploration and the impossible, and what was more impossible than a wolf approaching a human in friendship.   Wolfe believed that it had something to do with the young’s’ endless curiosity and sense of adventure; so he decided to use those traits to his advantage in trying to make friends with this young girl.  No matter how much Wolfe despised doing it, and believe me he did, he felt that he had to eat the elderly woman; dress in her night clothes and hide in her bed to await the arrival of the girl.  His reasoning for doing this horrible act was that he thought that it would be less traumatic and terrifying for the girl if he presented himself in something familiar like wearing her grandmother’s clothing.

Well, as the story goes, Wolfe’s intentions were not well received, and that little witch of a girl, that Red Riding Hood as it were, raised such a ruckus over Wolfe that her cries of alarm brought a nearby huntsman to the little whelp’s aide.   The huntsman and Wolfe fought relentlessly all while Wolfe tried to speak to the huntsman and the wench to tell them of his peaceful intentions and that he meant no harm.   The huntsman would hear none of it and after succeeding in knocking Wolfe unconscious; he pushed him down into a well to drown him.  Yet, another of Wolfe’s great talents was his ability to hold his breath for a long period of time.  Wolfe was awoken as soon as he hit the water.  He knew that his only chance of survival was to make the huntsman and girl think that he had drowned and wait for them to leave, which they eventually did.  As soon as the mean-spirited girl and murderous huntsman left, Wolfe extracted himself from the icy water, shook his coat and made for the woods where he licked his wounded pride and eventually returned home.  Wolfe, who had previously respected humans so much, began to despise them as much as he did wolf packs. 

That horrible child’s tale of Wolfe spread like wildfire throughout the human settlements, and soon the wolves in the community learned of Wolfe’s ultimate humiliation.  Wolfe, who refused to join a pack because of his fear of obtaining the lowliest rank and disdain for the wolf ways, realized his worst fears when he found that he had in fact obtained the lowest status possible due to his misadventures with that girl.  Wolfe became the laughing stock of the community.  No other wolf would approach him without sneering at him and mocking him for preying elderly humans who couldn’t defend themselves and denying his wolf nature by not joining a pack and remaining with his own kind.  His fellow wolves believed that Wolfe thought he was better than them by trying to seek friendship with humans.  Wolfe was humiliated and became very bitter.   He moved out into the far reaches of the wolf community and lived on his own; his dreams of true friendship and understanding were forever dashed.

As Wolf reached his elderly years he could no longer maintain his solitary life and he became a member of the Retirement Community for Elderly Wolves.  By now enough time had passed that Wolfe was no longer mocked as incessantly and he experienced a calm, almost happy existence.  Wolfe passed away one night alone and friendless. 

Yet, some remnant of Wolfe survived when wolves recounted his story to their pups as a lesson to not mix with humans because they will only try to hurt you.  But mostly in retelling Wolfe’s tale they were trying to teach a lesson that friendship is different among humans and wolves.  To a wolf being in a pack is a high honor.  Each pack member plays an integral part in the friendship, bonding, and love that the wolf pack maintains.  Wolfe believed himself to be a loner, when in fact, no wolf is an island, and being a member of a pack is the best form of friendship that a wolf can ever have. 

Super Bowl

For starters, I don't really follow sports, either baseball, football, hockey, lacrosse, beer pong, golf, tennis or any other sport that eat up the hours and fascination of others, but given my flat out ignorance, there is one time of the year that I do actually want to watch a sporting event and that's the Super Bowl.  

While watching the Super Bowl last night I will admit that I was disappointed with some of the commercials that aired.  I only teared up twice, and laughed a half dozen times.  It's not to say that the commercials were bad, but they seemed to be just that commercials   I remember Super Bowls in the past where I was on the floor laughing loudly with tears streaming down my face (mainly during the Doritos commercials), sitting there in awe as I listened to the narrator of the commercial reminding me of what makes America a wonderful nation (the Chrysler “It’s Half Time in America” for sure), and watching footage with my heart in my throat as our brave troops were being united with their families and friends.  During past Super Bowls  I have been moved to tears, uttered cries of joy, and felt a deep pride as I watched commercials that captured what is good, bright and wonderful about this land that we call home.

There were a few occasions during last night’s Super Bowl that I was touched, but not to the extent as years past.  I did tear up during the Jeep commercial that intoned that we are whole as a nation again with the return of our troops and that is most assuredly true.  Freedom isn't free, and it is their service, dedication, and honor that make it possible for the rest of us to watch the Super Bowl in the first place.  I also teared up at the Budweiser Clydesdale commercial.  As always Budweiser delivered a touching heart-warming story that made me smile.  Does anyone recall the Budweiser tribute after 9-11?  It’s been a dozen years, but each time I watch it, as I did last night, I am moved.  The only other commercial that gave me pause was the Dodge Ram commercial with Paul Harvey's narration of God making the farmer, which is so very true.  It is the farmers, along with our military, that keep our nation both safe and well-fed.  

I will also admit that that I did watch the game in between the commercials and I was glad to see the Ravens kick the 49ers butts!  It was a good game and, who knows, maybe I'll take a more active interest in fooseball, err, football next year.  What is the difference between a first and fourth down anyway?!  I hear the sportscasters chattering away, and it is really all Greek to me, but I am open to learning.

The moral of my ramble is this, the Super Bowl is the one night of the year we all pause to watch a football game.  Divisions are set aside (with the exception of picking opposite teams of course), and we are united as a nation.  The Super Bowl helps us to remember what makes us great: dedication, determination, honor, laughter, and hope.  For 90 minutes we stand together, no matter where we are, to watch the greatest sporting event of the year.  The Super Bowl and the commercials remind us of how strong and united we truly can be.  I'm proud to be an American every day, but on Super Bowl Sunday I feel a connection with my fellow Americans, and I have to say that’s pretty damn cool!  

Shades of Love

Shades of Love

Melissa Dallago

            Love is the greatest, most wonderful emotion that mankind has; it motivates us, it consumes us, it drives us to distraction, it is both a sickness and a cure, it is unconditional, it is nurturing, it is everything and all that truly matters. 

            Love comes in many shades, kinds and variations; it is a universal emotion that each and every one of us understands.  It brings us together, drives us apart, conquers vast divides, and empowers us to perform unimaginable feats. 

            Love of family is the strongest and most enduring kind.  The love of a parent for a child is intense, protective, grand, and perhaps the most powerful force on earth.  It has been said that loving a child is like having a piece of your heart existing outside of you.  The love between a parent and a child is intense, everlasting and above all unconditional.

            Love between siblings is equally as powerful and binding.  There will always be someone who understands you, loves you, accepts you, and has been with you through all of your highs and lows.  The love between siblings is also unconditional, because even if you don’t see eye to eye, you still love them because they are family after all.

            Love between friends is supportive, understanding, and compassionate.  It endures no matter the distance or time that passes.  Friends bonded together are true to each other in good times and bad.  They offer a shoulder to lean on, a person to laugh will, or just a quiet presence of someone who cares.

            Love between humans and animals are another special pairing.  Our pets are our friends through thick and thin.  Their love is unconditional and a strong bond of mutual affection, soft fur and times of play and laughter abound.  It is truly the love of an animal that can teach the meaning of unconditional love and acceptance.

            The love between two people who find their way to each other on their journey through life is one of partnership, mutual respect, endearment and a deep passion for one another.  To share a true love with another is to achieve a wonderful bond, one that hopefully is unbreakable and forever. 

            These are the different shades of love that we experience as we travel through life, but one shade of love that defines them all is “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails.”  It is love in all of its forms that bind us together. 

Technological Nightmares

I have always considered myself pretty savvy when it comes to technology.  I understand the fundamentals of how computers work and I can function in Microsoft Windows 8 without an issue.  I was proud of myself on the day I set up my first Wi-Fi network, although it took me half a day of scratching my head and reading the directions repeatedly, but once I got it up and running my internet hummed along quite nicely. 

I’m even capable of hooking up a small entertainment system that includes a DVD player, cable box, gaming system and television without too much trouble.  I was able to install, play and thrive in an online computer videogame.  My addiction of choice was World of Warcraft, which I played incessantly for over five years.  I have since retired from the online realm and have re-engaged in “real life”, as we gamers like to say, because it is infinitely more interesting than the pixelated world created on my computer monitor (see I do know techy words!).  Based on these achievements I thought that I was advanced enough in technology to be able to survive in the environment; at least I thought I was until this past weekend when I felt like I was starring in a Star Trek episode exploring where no man (excuse me, woman) has gone before. 

Right after Christmas my boyfriend David and I decided to upgrade to a DVR system to record our favorite shows, and TiVo was our service of choice.  At first it seemed like it would be very easy to install TiVo and upgrade our system, but boy were we wrong.  This “simple project” has since evolved into a living technological monster that lurks in the wires and Wi-Fi system in our electronics; it is the proverbial “ghost in the machine”. 

In going through this process I have learned just how much of a technological nincompoop I really am, which trust me is not good for one’s ego.  Just in the past week I have learned about N-routers versus G-routers, Z-waves versus broadband, infrastructure networking upgrades, bytes, bits, data, fiber optics, broadband, terabytes, petabytes, yottabytes (yes it’s a word, Google it if you don’t believe me), gigabytes, terabytes, TiVo, Sonos sound systems, calibrating Wi-Fi routers, USB cords, fire wires, parallel ports, upgraded, downgraded, quad cores, Fios, and the holy grail of internet speeds, 75 megabytes per second.  I’ve learned so much that my head is ready to explode! 

We’ve also had the old standby of screaming in frustration over a pixelating television screen, spending hours and hours on the telephone with customer service trying to “just make the damn thing work,” and cursing streaks that would make a sailor blush!  My head is spinning from the technology nightmare that we have entered. 

The outcome after all of these efforts is that TiVo does in fact work, but our picture quality is horrible and our Wi-Fi is on par with an asthmatic ninety year old trying to run a marathon.  Our Smart phones have become dumb, our Wi-Fi routers now suffer from an acute case of attention deficit disorder (huh, what, you wanted to actually go on the internet now), and our security system has taken an extended coffee break; basically nothing is working right, but at least we have TiVo.  Whew!

In my opinion its rather comical how in our technologically advanced world when you try to upgrade one portion of your system, everything else is knocked out of whack.  The systems don’t want to play with each other, let alone share, electronics just decide to stop working for no apparent reason, and sometimes I feel like my Droid DNA is just throwing a temper tantrum on par with a three year old.  I am now afraid to push any button, let alone the infamous red one, in case I hear an announcement that “this system will self-destruct in 15 seconds”.  The bottom line is we are not out of the technological woods yet, but we are hopefully seeing a light at the end of the tunnel; its either that or an approaching blue screen of death!

Throughout this whole endeavor, David has been valiantly fighting the technological monster that is lurking in our house.  He has beaten it into submission several times, but it has not yet been vanquished.  There is still plenty of reboots, re-configuring and recalibration going on to keep him busy.  I’ve pretty much just given up hope that our system will just work, but my honey, being the networking and computer genius that he is, has not yet given up on beating the monster once and for all, that or at least declaring a truce. 

The moral of this rant is this: no matter how much we like to consider ourselves as technologically advanced with our smart phones, laptops, z-waves, and what have you, when it comes to actually trying to make these wonders of modern technology work and integrate into our lives, we are no better than primordial man trying to make fire.  We like to think that we are the masters of technology, but I think, like in the movie The Matrix, we are slaves to the machines.  Ain’t technology grand!