The penny jar.

Do you like the rain? I do. 

My grandmother loved the rain. Loved the way it smelled, the way it brought new life into the garden and made her cherished trees grow. If ever there was a person with a plan, it was grandma, always encouraging me to save my pennies "for a rainy day," though I never quite knew what inclement weather had to do with me stashing away my change. 

And yet, after all these years, somehow, yesterday it clicked.

As I emerged from the subway in my white skirt, umbrella actually in hand, I felt strangely prepared for the sudden downpour. I even shot a holier-than-thou Sucka! glance at the fools piling into the doorway of The Gap, trying to stay dry. 

Then the wind came.

I ducked in fear as my umbrella proudly puffed out its chest into a giant "U" and, in a show of ultimate betrayal, proceeded to hurl me with all its might toward the side of the Hop On-Hop Off bus. By the time I managed to Mary Poppins my way into the lobby of my office building, I was drenched, pissed off, and doing the pee-pee dance, in hopes of drawing attention away from my now see-through skirt.

Suddenly the suckas outside The Gap had an advantage: racks of dry clothes at their disposal. A purpose for those rainy day pennies.

To be fair, I think that "saving your ten-spots for a rainy day" might be more apropos for today's economic climate. Still, there's something sweet and resourceful about dropping copper coins into a jar (clink! clink!) until they've built their way up to a new fall scarf, or ballet flats, or a necklace from that chick that sells jewelry outside Anthropologie on Fifth.

So I've got a plan. Next time the sky opens up, I'm curling up on my couch with a cup of hot chocolate and clicking away at my targets. Wanna peep?


Yes.


Me gusta.


I dig her whole look, head to toe.


Holla.


Maybe I'll get crafty.


Stop judging, it's my rainy day.

I have a feeling there'll be more of these to come...