Up early today, breakfast with a childhood summer camp friend & her 1 year old son. Lovely to be up, out and about (use Canadian accent here as we attended camp in Canada) on a Sunday morning.
Cobble Hill is bustling at 8:30am, refreshing to see Dads with their daughters, old couples, singles and all types eating at the Cobble Hill Coffee Shop on Court Street. Taking in the sights, sounds and smells of a Brooklyn diner on a weekend morning.
There is something very special about sitting in a diner alone sipping coffee. When I was younger I could never be alone anywhere, in the past 10 years I enjoy sitting, reading, observing and soaking in the atmosphere around me. I'm not worried about what someone thinks of me sitting alone, I'm comfortable. Just a passing thought...as I waited and for Melanie & Oliver, read Vogue and sipped on a hot cup of joe.
Oliver is adorable, at almost a year, he loves the wind on his face and sticking his little hands in cups of ice water. I've proclaimed him a future sailor and advised Melanie to start saving up as sailing is an expensive hobby. I wonder where life will take this little guy, with two loving warm intelligent parents, fun & adventurous grand-parents and the world available to whatever possibilities he eventually creates, what a joy to see life unfold for him.
Listening to Etta James this morning, "I Want A Sunday Kind Of Love" what a great song, perfect in every way, lyrics, music, arrangement, vocals, production. It projects a time period long gone, yet is timeless.
Everyone loves "At Last" I do too. But this song is my favorite of Ms. James. I was lucky enough to meet and briefly work with her in the early 1990s, while at Conway Recording Studios in Los Angeles. She was in poor health then, the one thing I remember is she loved flowers in her vocal booth. I can't remember what type, I want to say a lily, whatever it was it was fragrant. Her producer made sure she had fresh flowers daily with my help, when I asked why place them in the vocal booth, he said that she loved to smell them while she sang. That is the memory I will always take with me about Ms. James.
