BLOG!  The words should float like bubbles up to the rim, effervescent and dreamy as I would be after the first sip from my second glass.

I christen my blog with an entry on champagne, that decadent delight in a bottle, that wondrous discovery of a Benedictine monk.  Could he have known, in 1668, in far-away Hautvillers how this golden liquid would set our minds and hearts awhirl for centuries to come?  How, paired with a grain of inspiration, a glass would inspire Pygmalion to create Galatea?  How, with a little luck, I might be that charming Galatea smiling back at Pygmalion over the top of my crystal flute? 

One of my characters is similarly dazzled by the grape.  “Just when he felt he had nowhere to go, nowhere to turn, his eyes landed on a miraculous sight.  There, sitting on the edge of the brick walkway leading to the pool was a bit of eternity in a glass and the effervescent touch of his long lost home.  He tiptoed stealthily over to the glass and put his nose over the rim.  The faint, heady aroma was more than he could handle.  He thrust his face into the cool, golden liquid and drank with abandon.  It was not as good as his own, he thought, but it was still French champagne.  After he drank as much as he could from the glass, he raised his head and smiled.  ‘Now, for un peu de fromage,’ he thought, and he made his way back onto the lawn in search of cheese.”

Perhaps the magic of champagne is its ability to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary, if only for the duration of the elixir’s charm.  With time suspended, we float like lovers in a Chagall lithograph, curiously free of mundane concerns.  In this dreamscape, our fantasy, we seek new worlds, discover new love, are born anew.

Why must it be only with champagne, or any other intoxicating brew?  Why can’t we unfurl the banner of life and embrace everything that awaits us?  With names emblazoned on street signs or signed in Christmas cards, we look for meaning in everything from the grandiose to the quiet recesses of our lives.  Yet, even in the breathless little sighs of our days, we desire a level of transcendence that makes moments memories; that heartfelt yearning that comes not with loss, but with the realization that we have achieved greatness.  We are all seeking, dreaming, and living that certain something, that je ne sais quoi.

And thus, I swing not bottle to bow but raise a glass to you, dear reader.  May we write, communicate and dream across platforms, across worlds.

To return to the most recent entry, please click on the title, “Juliann Budimir, That je ne sais quoi”, at the top of the site.

Juliann Budimir, 2010.  All rights reserved.


  1. What a beautiful way to kick off your blog, Juliann! I’ve added your blog to my blog roll and wish you readers from all over the world. You’ve got one in Amsterdam, that’s for sure.


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