Yesterday, I wrote about Pascal’s favorite movie, Alexandre le Bienheureux. It seems that my husband likes every story where the man gets to be "left alone". Another favorite is the movie Cast Away. Pascal says that it’s one of his lifelong dreams to live on a private, deserted island. One Frenchman’s heaven is another Bon Bon Queen’s hell. I prefer not to imagine going more than 24 hours without things like hot water, electricity, down comforters, refrigerators, and books. The closest I would ever want to come living the deserted-island lifestyle would be a role as Ginger, the movie star, in a Broadway production of Gilligan’s Island: The Musical.

On Monday I mentioned Mama Gena’s School of Womanly Arts: Using the Power of Pleasure to Have Your Way with the World. I said that it would be one of the ten books I would take with me if indeed I did have to go live on a deserted island. If I were packing for that fated trip today, here are a few other titles I’d take along:

Cork Boat: I love this inspiring true story of how John Pollack, a former Clinton speechwriter, pursued his childhood dream of building a boat made entirely of wine corks. It might inspire me to find a creative way to get off the island!

The Sweet Potato Queens’ Book of Love: If I’m going to be stranded on a deserted island (wouldn’t it be so much nicer to be stranded on a dessert-ed island?), I’ll surely be in dire need of some laugh-out-loud comedy. Any book by Jill Conner Browne always does the trick.

Creating Money, Attracting Abundance: I’m a new-age kind of girl, and one of the most thought-provoking books that lives permanently on my nightstand is Creating Money; Attracting Abundance by Sanaya Roman and Duane Packer. Its about the Law of Attraction and abundant thinking. There is so much depth to this book, I’ve been studying it for years. Of course, I probably wouldn’t need money on a deserted island, but the principles are universal and apply to just about everything. This duo has written other great books like Spiritual Growth: Being Your Higher Self and Living with Joy: Keys to Personal Power and Spiritual Transformation. Since they’re all by the same authors, can three titles count as one?

War and Peace: I have yet to read this 1200-page classic "masterpiece" penned by Leo Tolstoy. I suppose I’d have plenty of time to do so on the island. As an added bonus, the book is so big it would come in handy as a footstool.

Here in the Carolinas, school has officially started. Being the Lisa Simpson of the family, this causes me to stare wistfully at all of the pristine notebooks and unsharpened pencils in the stores, a part of me wishing that I were joining all of those students in the halls of their hallowed institutions. Being the Bart Simpson of the family, Pascal shudders as he walks by those same school supply aisles, relieved that the only backpack he will carry this fall will be full of supplies for kayaking and going to the beach. I was the type who would have been devastated by a "B" on a book report; Pascal was the type who would read the first chapter of the book and make the rest up as he hammed it up for laughs during his in-class presentation. One time, his presentation on Sherlock Holmes’ The Hound of the Baskervilles was so outrageous the teacher gave him a "C" for creativity. Here are some other answers that Pascal might have given as a student. 

For a good laugh, follow this link to view two incredibly creative reports about Walt Whitman and Jimmy McPhearson. Of course, they’re not as creative as the high school essay my little brother once wrote about inventing a musical condom; he got in big trouble for that one!

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ll remember the Audrey Hepburn-inspired book signing we hosted recently in honor of Karen Quinn’s latest novel Holly Would Dream.

Well, not only does Karen have a way with words, she’s also great on video. Check out this fun video montage filled with fabulous, sassy real-life Audreys. It was created during her New York City book reading.

Karen’s not the only author featured in the video. The woman who says she read Holly Would Dream in the bathroom and on the subway is Regena Thomashauer, author of numerous books including, Mama Gena’s School of Womanly Arts: Using the Power of Pleasure To Have Your Way with the World.

Years ago, a family friend gave me an embroidered pillow that says "My Other House Is In France". It sits on a Louis XVI chair atop a fat toile cushion in our Great Room where it delights many visitors with its message. For me, that little pillow is a constant reminder that we are always working toward the realization of one of my biggest dreams: a "residence secondaire" in France, a charming "maison de campagne". 

One of these would do very nicely. I picked them out of my online "Wish Book", a Sotheby’s International website that features luxury homes in Provence. Until I can spend summers and holidays in the French countryside at my "other house", I can enjoy virtual excursions from this one. Want to join me? Just a few clicks of the mouse and a healthy dose of creative visualization and you too can have a "villa of glamour", a "residence of charm" or an "authentic farmhouse" as your second home.

("Vintage" South ‘n France flavor legend / Our current flavor legend)

Over the years, Pascal’s English has really improved and my French isn’t too shabby either. We don’t get tripped up very often on foreign vocabulary words and translations, but the other night Pascal yelled from the living room where he was watching Throw Mama From the Train: "Charlene – what’s a Mallomar?"  I explained, and he went back to laughing at Danny De Vito and Anne Ramsey. He loves that part where Danny clobbers Billy Crystal with a cast iron frying pan. It got me thinking about the funny mistranslations we’ve laughed at over the years (our own and those of others). One of my all-time favorites is from the Russian singers who sang phonetically on the cruise ship where I worked. They interpreted Gloria Gaynor’s "I Will Survive" lyrics as: "I should have changed my stupid lock; I should have made you brush your teeth". Here are a few more silly ones:

In a Parisian hotel lobby: Please leave your values at the front desk.

In a hotel in Athens: Visitors are expected to complain at the office between the hours of 9 and 11 A.M. daily.

On the menu of a Belgian restaurant: Our wines leave you nothing to hope for.

Outside a Moroccan tailor shop: Ladies may have a fit upstairs.

In a Rome laundry: Ladies, leave your clothes here and spend the afternoon having a good time.

Advertisement for donkey rides in Greece: Would you like to ride on your own ass?

In my humble opinion, the best gifts are original, thoughtful experiences like the kayak lesson my husband gave me for my birthday this year or the flying lesson we gave my Mom on her 55th birthday. So naturally, I was thrilled when my brother and sister-in-law gave me a most unique birthday gift: two one-hour glass-blowing lessons. The gift came as a big surprise; I had never expressed an interest in glass-blowing. Truth be told, I had never even given the art much thought aside from touring a Murano glass factory near Venice a few years ago. But, I’m always up for a new adventure, so I booked my first lesson with great anticipation.

In high school, my brother took a pottery class and gave me the final masterpiece that he created. He called it "The Ketchup Bowl". It is a deep jagged-edged bowl with red, navy and teal blue streaks running down the sides. I treasure this eclectic bowl because he made it. "How fun it will be to create a similar piece of artwork that he can now love and cherish", I thought, visions of vases like the ones pictured here dancing in my head. By the time I called up RDG Designs and Glass Blowing Center on Castle Street to make my first appointment, I had downgraded my ambitions to making a colorful paperweight. How hard could that be, right? Apparently much more difficult than I imagined. My teacher, owner Jane Greer, suggested that I start with a clear glass ornament. Adding color to glass is a whole other skill that would be introduced in Lesson Two. The first thing I learned to do was light the torch. Even this proved difficult for me; I can’t even start a simple cigarette lighter without burning my fingers! But under Jane’s deft guidance, in no time at all I was melting glass rods, pressing them, rotating them, and twisting them into shapes. I started to learn the rich vocabulary of the trade: acronyms like "POOP" and descriptors like "the snake that ate the mouse" – something you don’t want to happen to your glass. Guess what? It happened to mine.

Here’s what I love about glass-blowing (which at the beginner level does not involve any actual blowing): it’s fun, but it requires focused concentration. I was so intent on learning the techniques (they look deceptively simple when Jane demonstrates them but prove to be incredibly challenging when you try them), that everything else just melted away. It was a great form of relaxation. At the end of my first lesson, I had made a misshapen icicle Christmas tree ornament that made me immensely proud. By the second lesson, I had graduated to a green and blue pendant shaped like an amoeba. I can’t wait to go back and practice some more. In fact, I loved it so much, that I immediately gifted my little brother (nothing like giving him the same gift he gave me!) and my friend Matt with lessons for their birthdays. Of course, I intend to tag along. It’s a great gift idea that I highly recommend. And at $50 for two lessons, including materials, the price can’t be beat!   

There’s a hummingbird living in our garden. Pascal first discovered him a few weeks ago. Since then, I’ve seen him daily, right outside my office door, fluttering around all of the potted flowering plants that surround our palm tree. The bird’s wings move so fast, the movement always catches my eye. It’s fascinating to watch this tiny little creature hover in mid-air, wings flapping frantically, long beak drawing out the nectar nestled deep within the flowers.

Yesterday it occurred to me that perhaps our resident hummingbird is here for a reason. So, I quickly went to google.com and typed in "symbolism of hummingbirds".  A link popped up, telling me that the hummingbird is indeed a messenger of "hope and jubilation". It is the only creature that can stop dead while traveling at full speed. It can hover, and it can also fly forward, backward, up or down. It lives on nectar and searches for the sweetness of life, having to use its long tongue to work its way through tough, bitter outer layers of plants in order to find the sweet nectar hidden underneath.

Another new-age link revealed that hummingbirds are signs of energy, vitality, joy, renewal, sincerity, healing, persistence, infinity, agility, playfulness, loyalty and affection. Sounds good to me. Apparently, hummingbirds flutter their wings in the pattern of an infinity symbol. And they seem to be tireless, despite that constant fast-paced wing-flapping motion. These birds have been known to travel as far as 2000 miles to reach their destination, a quality that reminds us to be tenacious in the pursuit of our dreams. Best of all, by seeking the sweetest nectar they remind us to seek out the good and beauty in life each day.

The hummingbird may have to work hard to find that sweet nectar, but it didn’t take me long to find a smorgasbord of food for thought. Lately, I’ve felt like I’ve been hovering a lot – frantically moving my wings, but getting nowhere fast. Unlike the hummingbird, I feel exhausted, questioning whether I should continue to be persistent and tenacious in the pursuit of our dreams.  The hummingbird renewed a little bit of my hope though, in its reminder that sometimes you have to penetrate a tough and bitter surface to find the sweetest nectar.  And so, I’m inspired to keep on flapping my wings…