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An every-so-often installment of ongoing sparkling thoughts.
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01/31/06 Dear TwinkleGrammers, I remember well the time I almost swallowed a one-inch real live bullet. Seems like it was only yesterday--although to be honest (and I mean that), it was within the last FIVE MINUTES! (Do NOT try this at home!) For the moment, I'm guessing that although you're curious as to why I might have had a bullet in my MOUTH (and I assure you, it was an accident), you are moreover asking yourself why a nice girl like Charlene even *has* a bullet. There are several explanations as to the presence of miscellaneous bullets (yes, that was plural) in my home (notice I didn't say MOUTH, yet), although I don't know which is the truth about this *particular* bullet. One speculation is that it's a remnant from my Pretend Cowgirl days when I used to ride with Roy Rogers, Hopalong Cassidy and the Lone Ranger, PLUS, during one highly imaginative two-year stint I WAS Annie Oakley. In fact, I returned to those "pretend" roots just last week when I accidentally backed into a ditch (don't ask) and had to giddy-up my SUV out of that ditch with such high-octane spur kickin' that when my rear tires finally hit the blacktop, I laid a two-foot patch of rubber. (Do NOT try THIS at home either.) But back to bullets. Throughout my Pretend Cowgirl Days I sported a Genuine Hopalong Cassidy Wyandotte cap gun set (just looked it up on the internet, and a boxed set in excellent condition is now worth $1750!), complete with holsters, cap guns, bullet holders and several bullets. (AHAH!) However, after fifty-five years and two sons, all that remains of my couch-arm ridin' days is one bullet. It's followed me around my entire left. But the thing is, the almost-swallowed bullet (ASB) is too small to be that bullet. And like I said, the bullet in question is a REAL bullet, not the cap gun variety. Another thought is that the ASB is one I picked up from my father's house after he died in 1998. Dad taught me how to shoot skeet and hunt, both which my mother, who died in 1975, also excelled at. My parents collected touchstones--icons--that they stashed in little containers and piles. With warm memories in my heart, I fondly pocketed a bullet or two from one of dad's collections to add to one of mine, his fingerprints still feeling very Alive on them. But I tucked those bullets away in a special box, so, nope. Since I mostly "hide" in Minnesota to work on the Dearest Dorothy books, and since my residence there is an old farm house my grown son used to live in (my grown hunting son - AHAH!), perhaps he left a bullet on the dryer during one of his recent hunting visits (wouldn't be a first), which I of course pocketed (and no, I do not pocket things with price tags on them!), drove home and then emptied out of my pocket onto the kitchen table.. But alas, those bullets have four-inch green or red casings which, HOPEFULLY, I couldn't mindlessly pop into my mouth! (Please, Lord!) My grandmother's blue velvet zippered coin purse contains a few items from my grandfather, who died decades before she passed. I display it in my office, its contents smacking of good luck charms for memories they took to their graves. Along with a couple silver dollars and a buckeye, there are several empty bullet casings. Empty. Not loaded, live, ready to fire like my ASB. When I queried my husband about the bullet--"You almost SWALLOWED a BULLET?!!!"--he had no idea where it came from; however, we both knew it was me. "It's hard telling WHAT all is on our table," he said. Ah, long-standing piles. It's in my genes. I guess at this point it really doesn't matter where the ASB came from or how it got on the table. I've concluded I'll never know.. I'm simply thankful it had a Very High Blaaaach Factor (mixed metals and lead), high enough to keep me from unknowingly (okay, I just creeped myself OUT!) downing it and consequently "biting the bullet." But OH! I came so CLOSE! I picked up my garlic tablet and what I thought was my vitamin pill (obviously I wasn't wearing my glasses), popped them into my mouth, charged a glass of water to my lips (I mean the water was to - my - lips!) and -- Blaaaaach! I spewed the "pills" into my hand and ... have been horribly surprised ever since. I've decided I'm going to print a copy of this TwinkleGram, wrap the ASB in it and store it somewhere NOT on my kitchen table. Perhaps I'll tuck it in my grandmother's blue velvet coin purse with her sacred memories, her icons, testimonies to her life, my grandfather's life--perhaps even to my great-grandparents' lives, if I knew the stories behind the icons. It seems a fitting resting place for this icon to MY tale of a remarkable happenstance. And what, you may wonder, is the moral of this story? I'm sure you neat-nicks out there would love to give me a lecture on tidiness. Perhaps others would talk to me about gun control, wearing my glasses, memory drugs or a sanity check. But as for me, I think before wrapping it up, I'll just snuggle with the bullet a spell while I give thanks for its mysterious appearance, its miraculous non-entry into my body and its magical ability to resurrect so many warm memories. Until we chat again, PS Please feel free to pass this along to anyone you think might enjoy it. PSS If you've received this from a friend, you can get your own TwinkleGram subscription at www.twinklegram.com PSSS THANK YOU to everyone who cheers for the Dearest Dorothy books. I've just turned in rewrites for Dearest Dorothy, Merry Everything! which will be hitting book stores in time for Christmas. Hip Hip HURRAY! Genesis 2:16.17 And the Lord God commanded the man, "You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die." Notice there's not a single warning there about BULLETS! Charlene Ann Baumbich Web site: http://www.welcometopartonville.com TwinkleGram Archives 6/2/04 | 8/20/04 | 10/08/04 | 10/25/04 | 12/14/04 | 1/19/05 | 3/4/05 | 4/21/05 | 6/13/05 Don't forget to check in every once in a while to see what’s on Charlene’s mind. From the profound to the pathetic, she's happy to have her own non-edited corner in which to ramble on about whatever she'd like whenever the mood strikes her - which might be sooner or later! Or, subscribe to the TwinkleGram and have it delivered fresh to your email - just click the "Subscribe to the TwinkleGram" link at the top of this page. ©Notice: Materials on this page are © by Charlene Baumbich 2003-2005 |
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