Time to get going again. . .


. . .And I’d like to kick things off with a special end-of-summer $.99 sale on all my Kindle books.  If you like fantasy and ghost stories, visit my author page and take a look.  If you like what you find, let me know.  If you don’t like what you find, let me know, too, so I can improve.  I take my craft seriously and constantly look for ways to polish and refine.

Enough of the commercial. . .

It’s been an exciting last few months.  I’ve relocated yet again, finally got a yard in, and rescued a fur baby.  Meet Sassy:


She showed up, cold, hungry, and scared at my brother’s place about 10 days before Christmas last year.  I immediately fell in love with her, and since my brother already has a very territorial and cantankerous old tom cat, I took her home with me.  We’ve had our ups and downs, but she has settled in very well and I wouldn’t part with her for the world!  I mean, look at that sweet face!

She lets me think I run the place, but when it’s all said and done SHE’s the boss!  She’s proven the cat-alyst for a few cat-astrophe’s, but so far we haven’t suffered a major cat-aclysm (although one may come barreling down the pike yet!).  Plus, she’s already provided enough material for a sizable humorous book!  I could regale you for hours with accounts of her antics, but think I ought to set up a camera instead, maybe even put her on Youtube.  She’s pretty photogenic, in my humble opinion.  And there’s nothing better than a faithful companion to travel life’s road with!

At any rate, you can expect a few posts with Sassy as the main attraction.  Stay tuned!

© KoppingAnAttitude, 2018 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without written permission from the author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given.


The Dreaded Colonoscopy


3 Yellow Leaves Over Pond

We’ve all heard it: If you’re 50 years of age or older, the American Cancer Society recommends you have a colonoscopy every 10 years.  For most of us, that particular procedure elicits a feeling of–well, ugh.  And, if you’re like me, you tend to think that if nothing abnormal is going on, everything’s OK.  Besides, we’re busy.

I rarely visited doctors when I was younger.  I was young, strong, and felt great.  Later when arthritis set in I figured that was to be expected at my age.  And cancer?  Well, we have a family history that includes colon cancer, BUT: There’s just something about a butt exam that turns me off.  The colonoscopy itself never worried me, since I’d be sound asleep on some good drugs the whole time.  But a few years back you had to down a gallon of horrid-tasting stuff and then spend most of the night in the throne room expelling gargantuan amounts of liquified Number Two.  Noooo thank you!

However, subtle changes in my exhaust system prompted me to suck it up and undergo the exam.  I had wanted to attribute what was going on to a lousy diet, but that nagging question haunted me: What if?  So, yesterday afternoon I drank the first round of magnesium citrate.  Within the hour the purge began and by the third trip to the throne room I was wishing I could change my mind and call the whole thing off.  My poor bum felt like I had passed fire and then wiped with sandpaper!  (I relayed that to the surgery nurse this morning, who responded that the prep instructions should be revised to include applying Vaseline around the anal area.  A nice thick layer would not only soothe the burning, but afford some protection to the skin each time that tanker load of acid blows out the tailpipe.)

The colonoscopy itself?  I slept right through it and woke up refreshed but a little woozy, with no cramping or discomfort whatever.  I think my system needed a good cleaning out, because I felt better than I had in weeks.  Best yet, everything is fine!

I could have waited until unmistakable symptoms developed.  However, three people I know did exactly that.  One died.  The second survived, but only after a long and exhausting fight for her life.  The third person also survived, but underwent surgery that left him wearing a colostomy bag.

Colon cancer is a killer.  Unpleasant though the prep may be, a colonoscopy still beats the alternative.  Get it done!




Life, Photography

The Best Revenge


Excitement on the Home Front

Z FullMoon

We all have those moments when life throws us a curve.  Some situations are harrowing while others have a bit of humor tossed in.  Our household had enjoyed pretty placid–some might even call them boring–lives for most of the summer on into fall.  Last week, however, one of our more colorful neighbors decided it was time to liven things up.

Abie loves a good time.  The only excuse he needs to party is that it’s Tuesday. . .or Wednesday. . .or–well, you get the picture.  With Halloween just days away, he figured he’d commune with the spirits–the liquid variety, that is, and he communed whole-heartedly.  But spirits tend to possess a person, and the outcome is never good.  After downing heaven only knows how many, he jumped in his truck (probably to buy more) and went screaming down a backroad highway faster than anyone would have believed that old ’83 Ford could travel.  Mind you, he was in control–he’ll swear to that; but these blamed vehicles sometimes have a mind of their own, especially this time of year.  (Remember Christine?  And let’s not forget The Car!)  At any rate, the devil got into the old Ford and it headed off the road, taking out a hundred feet of fence and hitting a power pole with enough velocity to sheer it off, treating the neighborhood to ten to fifteen seconds of lightning and fireworks before plunging the countryside into darkness.  Luckily, no one was hurt, although the story would have been far different had anyone been driving up that road.  Abie didn’t even appear all that shaken and would have continued on his merry way, except the Ford got hung up on irrigation pipe and mired in mud.  Anyway, Abie was there waiting when the sheriff arrived and, after he blew up the breathalyzer, got carted off to jail while crews cleaned up his mess.

Halloween evening we visited Grandma Lydia, a prim and proper white-haired lady of 93, at the nursing home.  She was sitting near the lobby with several other residents, most of whom held bowls of candy to pass out to the trick or treaters who visited the home each year.  Unfortunately, the staff had run out of candy and a half-dozen residents had nothing to hand out.  One old gentleman looked particularly forlorn and, since Grandma Lydia had plenty of candy, she gave him a handful.  Before the children arrived, however, he had eaten most of it, which got him yelled at by the nurse.  Anyway, we watched the parade of ghosts, goblins and superheros passing through.  The residents genuinely enjoyed themselves, especially Grandma Lydia, who positively beamed at each child while she complimented their costume.  But even before the trick or treating ended we noticed Grandma Lydia getting pale.  When she asked to be taken to her room, we knew she was really sick.  As we helped her into bed she complained of chest pain, with the pain radiating down her arm, and burning pain in her stomach.  Fearing the worst, LPN’s and orderlies hovered over her while I went for a nurse.

The head nurse talked with Grandma Lydia a few minutes and then left, soon returning with a glass of liquid, which she instructed Grandma Lydia to drink quickly.  Somehow Grandma got it down and then for a few seconds just sat with a funny expression on her face.  “How do you feel?” the nurse asked.  Grandma Lydia opened her mouth, but no words came out.  Instead, there rumbled forth a burp that would have done the toughest roughneck proud and elicited a rousing ovation from the staff.  Gas, not a heart attack, was the culprit.  Grandma Lydia turned beet red but the nurse put it all in perspective.  “Hey,” she said.  “At 93 you’re entitled to a good belch!”

© KoppingAnAttitude, 2016  Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without written permission from the author is strictly prohibited.  Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given.



Humor, Life

Scarecrow Festival


Each and every autumn, when the frost is on the punkin, the scarecrows come out in force!  For the first two weeks in October they line up along the Stevensville cutoff and strut their stuff.  This year my sister and I decided to drive over and check it out.  Here are a few displays.  I admire the work and imagination that went into these.


Even without the sign one might have guessed the library set up this one.  They drew the face on two pages of an open book, but the breeze messed them up.


This elegant lady looks a bit out of place between these two characters.  However, ’tis the season of the witch and nothing is as it seems!


Talk about a Big Mac attack!  This looks more like the Attack of the Big Macs!


This proud fisherman’s got the fire stoked and ready to fry up that big beautiful rainbow trout.


This Headless Horseman is long on horsepower.  The dog looks about to do what dogs do.


Every gal needs her beauty sleep!


Your typical lounger.  He does look relaxed!


Can’t tell whether this rollerblader decided to take five or wiped out.


A lot of old towers went into this Cyberspace Cadet!


Latrina McCoy is either taking a break or making fresh POT pies.  Judging from the look on her face, things aren’t coming out right.  (Don’t worry, Latrina, this too shall pass!)


From a distance this guy looked pretty lifelike, even slowing a few cars before they realized it was just a scarecrow.

Kudos to everyone who set these up!


Hello From Beautiful Montana


Back in July I talked about some major life changes and a temporary move while I took some time to regroup (Sweet Freedom and Wide Open Spaces).  At the time, I wasn’t sure where life’s road would lead, but in a few short months doors began to open, things fell into place, and I landed right under Montana’s big, beautiful sky!  While I miss the old familiar places, nothing compares to the sight of the majestic Bitterroot Mountains enshrouded in mist and morning glow.  Rumor has it there’s some mighty fine hiking in those mountains, with waterfalls on every trail.

I have to admit to some culture shock;  I exchanged a cubicle and computer keyboard for an acre of ground, with the hope of developing it into a flower and vegetable garden.  However, deer and elk abound, along with a wide assortment of other critters that relish fresh salad.

Still, I’m eager to get started, and even more eager to write about building raised beds, starting seedlings, and designing the overall layout for a functional mini-farm.  Definitely I won’t complete the project this year, and will likely be writing more about what not to do than what to.  At any rate, my efforts should produce some whimsical posts that leave some folks chuckling and others shaking their heads in disbelief!