Yes, this is the sister who called me from L.A., where she lives, because she was lost and needed me to give her directions -- from Phoenix. I only have the one sibling and, of course, I love her, but seriously! She should not be allowed anywhere near technology. Any kind of technology -- even the basic stuff.

Here's an example.

Last March, my sister and I took my mom whale watching as an early Mother's Day gift. When we arrived at her Playa del Rey home, I discovered a list of "projects" my dear sister had been saving for me -- saving for some time, apparently.

The last time I was there, I set up her ComCast wireless Internet and got her computer online. The time before that, I set up her laptop.

At the top of the project list this time was something she'd been asking me about for a couple of months. Setting up her VCR. She had purchased a new one because her old one "wouldn't record." (It was totally user error, but she'll never admit that.)

So, my mom and I took the machine -- one of those VCR/DVD combo decks -- out of its box, hooked it up and ran it through its setup. It took all of about 15 minutes.

After I was back home, I got a call from my darling sister saying the VCR wouldn't record. This was déjà vu all over again. She was pretty much convinced that the machine just "doesn't record."

"It's a VCR," I said, emphasizing the R. "Of course, it R's."

I asked her if she's read the instructions.

Of course, she had. Not.

The next time I was out there, one of my "projects" was to make her VCR record. I skimmed the instructions, followed them, and voila, the VCR that didn't record suddenly did. And it did it just fine.

I walked her through the oh-so-complex process of setting the timer. She didn't want to deal with the VCRPlus+® codes listed in her TV Guide. Too complex.

Anyway, we tested the VCR. I proved it worked. Then I made her do it. It R'd for her.

When I got home, there was a message waiting on my answering machine. (Yes, I, the technology lover, have an answering machine. It's digital, though, not tape. And cheaper than voicemail.)

It was my sister. And guess what? The VCR wouldn't record. She had done exactly what I'd told her and it didn't work. There's no way. If she'd done what I told her, it would have worked fine. She couldn't be convinced of user error, a common problem of the technically challenged.

I walked through it on the phone and lo and behold, the VCR R'd.

She still doesn't use it, though, seeming to prefer to call me and have me send her tapes or bring them when I visit.

VCR problems. How '90s ('80s?) is that?

I suggested she might consider getting Tivo, but then promptly talked her out of it, fearing her head might explode. Or that she'd be calling me every five minutes.

It's not just the VCR she has trouble with. It's everything, including her Bluetooth-enabled cell phone, a RAZR.

I have a cell phone, as many do these days. But it's an older Motorola V220. I like it, even though it shatters into little easy-to-lose pieces when dropped on concrete. But it's no RAZR. And it doesn't have Bluetooth capabilities.

When my family was out to dinner at Trader Vic's the night before our traditional Christmas Eve celebration, my sister handed me her phone and a little headset.

"Make it go," she said.

Make what go? The phone? Surely even she can use a phone.

Ah, the Bluetooth.

My ancient (in cell-phone years) little phone can't do Bluetooth. What made her think I'd know anything about it?

I told her I'd play with it later.

The next night, Christmas Eve, she shoved her phone and headset at me again, this time with a little slip of paper. Straight-forward, step-by-step, easy-to-follow instructions. Instructions she couldn't follow.

Five minutes later I had her Bluetooth working.

She couldn't, however, get the headset to stay in place on her ear. In fact she still has trouble with it.

Sorry, babe. Can't help you with that one.

After I made her Bluetooth go, I showed her how to use her little digital camera. It was beyond basic. Point. Shoot. Literally, that was it.

I've set it before and I'll say it again -- step away from the technology, dear sister. Step away.