The Hand-Me-Down Kid

One of the things that comes from being raised in a large and thrifty family is an acceptance of hand-me-downs. Probably the reason I'm such a thrift shop whore is that used clothes were a way of life when I was growing up, and thus the notion that the only clothes worth wearing are new ones never managed to take root in my psyche.

I've inherited other things, too. I inherited the Toyota Camry when my Mom decided to get a new van. (It served me well until it got T-boned in an intersection by a guy running a red light.) I inherited my Dad's old desktop Macintosh, which likewise served me for many years.

And, today, I inherited my Mom's old PalmPilot. Dad gave her a new one for her birthday, so Mom took old one, cleaned out most of the info (she left a few things in there for my reference, like family phone numbers and birthdays) and passed it on to me.

I've put in a few dates out of my little dollar store calendar and I'll probably be putting in phone numbers so I don't have to whip out my cell phone and scroll through individual numbers every time I want to call somebody.

I get a feeling this creature is going to be something like my iPod is--a device that initially has me wondering "Huh? What the heck am I going to do with this thing?" but eventually has me wondering "AHHH! What the heck am I going to do without this thing?"

Today I took pleasure in water with lemon juice.

Today I learned the first few things about how to use my new PalmPilot.