My windows are wide open to the 43 degree breeze here in Brooklyn. It is supposed to hit 49 today, the warmest we’ve seen since around October. Tomorrow? Huge snowstorm again.

I just shopped at the Park Slope Food Co-op, where I had a very emotional moment in the bread aisle. I was picking up vegetables, extremely aware that I was shopping for one (one arichoke, three bananas, one apple, one small bag of spinach) and I was lamenting the fact that bread comes in such large loaves. It’s very hard for a single person, who doesn’t eat much bread, to go through a whole loaf before it goes bad. So I wandered to the bread aisle, and found several half-loaves, whole-grain wheat, waiting for me on the shelves. Packaged not by us, but by some granola farm in upstate New York. Which led me to think about the market of single granola folks like me, needing bread, but only need a half loaf. Jeeze. I should put up a sign on the bread aisle that says, “Are you buying this bread? Why don’t all of us buying this bread start a book or hiking club. We can eat organic granola. We can wear organic unbleached wool fuzzy sweaters and drink organic coffee made with unbleached filters. And then hit a yoga class. C’mon!”

I’m “trailing” (which basically means auditioning) on the bar tonight at my restaurant. I’m not entirely sure that I want to be a bartender, but I do want more money. And I want change. The whole restaurant had to take a five-page short answer and essay test on wine… the trailers and bartenders and servers alike… and guess who got the high score? Yep. Me. Which is cool and really pathetic at the same time.