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It's all about the Jeffersons. I went to the bank yesterday and made the most fun request I could of the teller: "I'd like $62 in $2 bills, please." To their credit, they never asked why, even when digging up that amount required filling out mysterious forms and entering the actual vault. (I imagine bank robbers running out of there with a bag of $2 bills slung over their shoulder.) But why, besides being quirky, insist on $2s?
Several reasons, actually. Mostly, I like the idea of slipping a single bill into my wallet every day. But also, I think the $2 bill is a sort of symbol for the New Dollar. For decades, all other currencies have been measured against the mighty U.S. dollar, but in recent years, since the introduction and widespread adaptation of the Euro, the dollar has become increasingly weak, to the point where even Canadians get more bang for their particular brand of buck. By thinking of $2s as the smallest unit, it gives me a sense of the true proportion of our money in the currency universe. Also, they're rare and unusual. They extract comment from tellers and waiters, like a foreign accent might, or an unusual choice of hair dye color. People are generally reluctant to spend them because of this rarity, which is why they tend to stay out of circulation despite being nominally quite useful (if you've ever been plagued with 10 singles choking your wallet, you'll know why). Putting all these $2s into the economy around here is a way of passing the buck -- if I'm going to be reluctant to spend, that karma should follow my cash. It's time for the $2 bill to make a comeback. As far back as 2006, USA Today was touting its resurgence thanks to, of all things, strip clubs. They make great tipping money because their perceived value is higher than the amount on the front, and they're still in active printing and circulation, so there's no actual collector value -- no point in hording! I think it would be kind of cool if Santa Cruz, being the weird place that it is, leads the charge in Jefferson's emergence. I can imagine people in Palo Alto getting a $2 bill from someone and saying, "Are you from Santa Cruz?" I don't know. These are the strange dreams that keep me going. *** I was falling behind schedule yesterday evening, so I wasn't able to get to Shoppers Corner before they closed. I changed the schedule a bit, and made my first weekly grocery trek to Safeway. Immediately, I remembered why I avoid the place so assiduously, and if I wasn't thoroughly unimpressed throughout the experience, the fact that the clerk gave me a plastic bag just to carry my greeting card did the trick. Still, thanks to the ubiquitous Safeway Club Card ("Allowing us to artifically inflate sticker prices and track your purchases for better junk mail targeting since the 1990s" is the slogan, I believe), I was able to escape with a spare $10 to use on emergency groceries between now and next Thursday. Here's my $52 bounty: 
The main feature is a $10 package of boneless, skinless, soulless chicken breasts, which I intend to marinate and grill for a meal with artichokes, then re-use as leftovers for some vaguely defined Mexican meal later (to use up some tortillas I have lying around). There's also a wobbly pack of tofu that may or may not become stir fry. My girlfriend Veronica (see her own attempt at foodie frugality at thriftycupcake.blogspot.com ) was most perturbed by the purchase of a big Jello package, but I assured her that such lowbrow morsels are going to help keep my sanity intact (12 of them for $4!). First internal dialogue of denial on this journey: Q: Can I have a Pom juice ? A: No. For the sake of complete disclosure, here's how I spent my $62 April 30 allowance: Lunch at Taqueria Vallarta: $10
Gasoline top off for the Grandmamobile: $21
Mother's Day card: $2.50
Toothbrush: $3.50
Hash dues for May: $25 All my credit cards are stashed in a drawer except for one (in case of genuine emergency) and the debit card (for groceries only, all purchases to be confessed ASAP). There's a $2 bill in my wallet. Okay, month of May. Bring it on.
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