She sometimes wishes she had her own computer.
She has a phone, which Charlie insists she carry with her, so that's all right and no one's going to call her unwitchly for indulging a beloved mortal. It will do simple web browsing. When she wants to do less simple web browsing, she goes to the library.
So here she is, in the Rockland Public Library, looking up alethiometers.
Path flies over to peck Isabella on the back of her head. "Turn the turkey," he says. She resumes turning it.
"Well, yeah," he says. "That's how you're the same. But I bet you don't both feel exactly the same way about it, and that's how you're different."
"Huh. I'd ask Metis if she and I could look at each other in the circle and see what we get on that score, but I don't think it has enough fine detail to tell us anything but 'yep, female, witches'."
"That has fewer symbols," Isabella laughs. "It can turn it into an arbitrary number of meanings, but it's still not natural language. It's worth a try, though, sure."
"Well, ask it about your gender and hers and see if it spits the same answer back twice."
"That'd work. It does answer in complete sentences -insofar as symbolic meanings with no grammar form sentences." Turn, turn, turn, won't do to cook only half the bird.
At length, bird is ready, and Isabella carves and serves and pours everyone a dish of the leftover vinegar and sage to dip their bites in.