Author Archives: stripfix

Monday, March 14, 2011

Lynn's Comments: There really were times when I felt like the family drudge. I guess the problem with housework is...it's never done. Or, to put it another way... it's UNdone as soon as it's finished! I actually enjoy cleaning and organizing stuff... but the thrill is lost as soon as the door opens and some clod walks in with a wad of crud on his boots. Nobody wants to hear Mom complain- about anything. Forget the old "kids should be seen and not heard" quote... mothers are seen, heard but ignored - which is worse! I whined, complained, begged and pleaded and envied my more relaxed friends who could sit and read a book while the dishes formed a crust and the baby ate dog hair. Looking back, I wondered why I even TRIED to keep a tidy house. Who really cared? What my kids remember most about me is...my cooking!

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Lynn's Comments: During the 80's there was a Canadian television "reality" type show called "Thrill of a Lifetime". A young woman from Montreal had written to the producers to say that her thrill of a lifetime would to be to appear as a character in For Better or For Worse. I thought it was a fun idea and agreed to participate. The TV crew contacted me and asked if it would be possible for her to visit me at home and to watch me draw the comic strip in which she appeared. This was OK, too! Monique was a librarian, and so a scenario involving the local community library was concocted. Travelling all the way to Lynn Lake Manitoba was quite a hike from Montreal and when she arrived with camera crew in tow, she was exhausted, nervous and wired. She was to come to the door, wait for me to open it and then the two of us had to be surprised and happy to see each other. This we did many times! Finally, they allowed us to hug and laugh and enjoy the fun of connecting for the first time. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting this sweet, enthusiastic young woman. With her ready smile, thick hair and glasses, she made a fine cartoon character! She stayed for the day, I drew the strip, we had dinner together and she left the following morning. We promised to keep in touch - which we did for awhile. I later met her for dinner in Montreal, but our time together was interrupted and I regret not being able to get to know her better. So, you have the real story behind this strip...and, Monique, if you're still in Montreal, I'd love to hear from you and find out what you've been doing after all these years!

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I was a smart mouth when I was a kid. I enjoyed a good verbal fight and could dish out some pretty cruel remarks. I wasn't so good at being on the receiving end, however. I remember my mother telling me the "sticks and stones" thing and thinking- as the tears ran down my face, that words hurt more than a pounding- and lasted longer than a bruise!

Friday, March 11, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Lynn Lake was such a small town that gossip came back to you the same day. It was fun to hear the latest community news, as long as you weren't part of it! Here's an example of how fast word travelled: Annette was one of our dental assistants. She was expecting her first baby and when she went into labor, I knew she had been admitted to the hospital because when I went to buy groceries, I ran into a guy who knew her husband. A few minutes later, I went to the drugstore to buy her a gift and I ran into the doctor's wife who told me Annette and Peter had just had a baby boy. I went home, wrapped the gift, walked to the hospital and there were the proud parents holding a baby so new, he hadn't even been washed yet! I guess there's a difference between news and gossip, and it didn't take me long to learn that in a small town, you had to be careful with both.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Lynn's Comments: We had been such good friends, but my relationship with "Alice" was on the rocks. Having forgiven her spouse, she was embarrassed and hurt by my remarks. She also told her husband what I had said about him, so he too avoided my husband and me like the plague. Others, who had felt the same but had not expressed an opinion, still had her friendship; something I regretted having lost. A few years later, Alice's husband ran off with another conquest and this time, she let him go. There was no vindication for me, however. Painful lessons are well learned!

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Lynn's Comments: When you are married and in your 30s, your intimate circle of friends tends to be married couples, too. With the complexities of cohabitation come inevitable clashes and you often find yourselves consoling and commiserating with one another. I learned the hard way to not tell a woman friend what I really thought of her husband. My friend "Alice" was married to a fellow I thought was a genuine cad! When he left her for another woman, I told her so - and said she was better off without him. Six months later, she and her husband reconciled and I was out of the picture. It's safer to console without criticism!

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Lynn's Comments: The way I saw it...Ted lived with an overbearing mother. The arrangement worked well for him as she did his laundry, made his meals and also made most of his decisions. There would never be a woman good enough for her son and she saw to it that Connie was a reject, even before the relationship got off the ground. In my head I knew what had happened and how the breakup had taken place, but I never told the story to the readers. At the time, I thought I could get away with such instant info, but it's hard for an audience to buy into something they haven't witnessed for themselves. It was a "learn as you go" situation and I eventually became a better writer.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Lynn's Comments: This was my abrupt way of storytelling. In the early 80's I was still learning how to make my 30 seconds a day morph into a story. I wanted there to be a rift between Connie and Ted, partly because I thought he was a schmuck, and just to keep things interesting. Had I been doing this segment today, I would have told their story in detail.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Lynn's Comments: When a neighbor's dog barks incessantly, I can't stand it. I lie awake or pace about the house, getting more and more verklempt. I imagine myself doing unmentionable things to both neighbor and dog and so, when we acquired a pooch ourselves, he was not permitted to bark outside at the wind or whatever it is they bark at. The only thing Willy could not resist protecting us from was the snow plow. After a fierce attack of nonverbal abuse, it would recede from the driveway cowering as our small black spaniel ran after it as fast as he could. It was funny and the noise didn't last long. I have never been able to understand how folks can put up with their own dog's incessant barking - much less inflict the misery on others. I also find it hard to understand how a dog can bark for so long without going hoarse or passing out from lack of breath! I suspect the first query can be explained by suggesting that some pet owners are completely unfazed by the noise and don't give a frog's fart about anyone else in the neighborhood. But, what about the dog? I think I can understand why, but if anyone knows HOW they can bark for so long - please tell me. I'd like to understand...'cause, when it comes to pets and their owners, I sometimes have much more respect for the pet!

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Nobody likes to lose. On the days when Aaron and his mates were smarting from a lost game, we'd commiserate with hot chocolate and a talk about "next time". There was always another game to look forward to and more reason to put your heart into practice. "After all," we'd say, "if you won every time, it wouldn't be fun anymore! The great thing about competition is the fact that only one team can win and the other must congratulate them honestly. Then, you work hard to see if you can outsmart and out skate them the next time. Losing is an opportunity! You get to learn about generosity, good sportsmanship and honor." The lecture about winning and losing is pretty much the same everywhere and it applies to every sport and if you're lucky, your child will listen, understand and be comforted. Then, once the hugs and the words of consolation are done... you'll tuck them into bed with a hug and tell them you're proud of them for doing their very best. As you kiss them good night, you know that you've said the right thing at the right time....even though they cry out miserably as you leave them: "But, Mom!!! IT'S NO FAIR!!!"

Friday, March 4, 2011

Lynn's Comments: No matter how fast he was skating or how complex the play, Aaron knew where I was in the stands. He knew I'd be there watching everything he did - at least I tried to watch it all. I was one of a tight knit group of hockey moms who always sat in the same place. We always wore the same parkas; a huddled little throng, trying to keep warm with blankets, body heat and bad arena coffee. In Lynn Lake, your parka was a sort of signature. Like waddling mounds of fabric huffing wads of steam out the top, we were part of the northern landscape. My parka was blue with a wolf fur hood and a decorative band of green around the bottom. My friend Nancy had a green parka; June's was magenta. You could tell who was who by the way they walked and what they wore. Those parkas kept us from freezing to the bleachers as we dutifully watched our boys skate their hearts out - for the team and for us. I never looked forward to the 6 am practices, but I'll always be glad I was there.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Lynn's Comments: The parents who screamed at their kids (as if, by merely making noise, they could influence a shot or even the outcome of a game) made our lives miserable. Some of these folks we knew. They were shopkeepers, community leaders, patients and acquaintances in town - so it was impossible to say anything harsh to them for fear of starting an incident in front of everyone else. These people became entirely different when they watched a game. It was as if this was their own private event onto which they projected everything from personal prowess to family pride. They shouted insults at their children, at other people's' children, at the coaches and at each other. And, for what?! I could never figure it out. In the end, the result was a sad and demoralized child and many frustrated parents. Rules of good sportsmanship aren't just for the players. They're for the audience as well!

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Lynn's Comments: The boys' locker room at the arena was always a frenzy of small, eager players trying to do as much as they could by themselves. Someone, however, always needed help with something! It was "sissy" to have Mom there, tying laces and securing helmets. One perhaps was cool enough to be part of the process, but in general, it was a "no-mom zone". The men who coached junior hockey were such patient, caring and hard working guys. Even the ones who were not fathers yet had what it takes to be great role models to a busy group of small boys all needing approval, security and support. When the coach tied laces he did it in a way that said "Anything you need, man, just let me know!" There was nothing to be ashamed of in needing help with something, no matter how small. These kind gestures made a big impression and I'm grateful to this day for the people who take on the challenge of coaching junior hockey!

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Back to hockey! These were busy times, but the early morning practices, the struggle with uniforms and the expense were all worth it. I am such a supporter of children's team sports. It's great exercise, wonderful experience and parents must participate. You can't take a very young hockey player and leave him or her to play without Mom and Dad in the stands! They have to see you cheering for them, encouraging them. I remember watching the kids whose parents would just drop them at the rink and come back later. Perhaps they really didn't have time to stay, but the look on their children's faces as they scanned the bleachers, looking for someone to work hard for - someone besides the coach - was sad. Perhaps they did well in the long run, but it's my guess that the kids who excelled at hockey (and everything else!), were the ones whose parents stayed to watch them play.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Lynn's Comments: After he'd grown out of them, I did hang on to Aaron's crib, playpen and high chair - with the hope that I'd use them again someday. When Katie came along, however, I had in-laws who loved to spoil her and a job that allowed us to be a little less cautious with our cash. She had new things - which, in a way, were less exciting than the things I'd bought on a shoestring and had fixed up myself! These I later sold or gave away when we moved north. I am not one to keep things - even if I think I might have a later use for them. I give stuff away or send it to the second hand shops and sometimes I'm sorry for having done so. When my kids were little, I gave their clothes to friends who promised to give them back to me later - but this never worked out. Either the clothes came back ruined or not at all. I gave away some beautiful things and am grateful for the photos I have of Kate and Aaron dressed in their best; an image that lasted for a few hours, if I was lucky. I did manage to keep their favorite baby blankets. They are lovingly stored in a cedar chest along with three quilts, which were made by hand by friends and are therefore priceless. Some things you have to keep...for no real reason at all!!

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Lynn's Comments: When the kids were small, the work involved often filled a day. By suppertime when laundry, cleaning, shopping and meals were done, I wondered where the time had gone. It wasn't until the dishes were done and the kids in bed that I could sit down - without guilt - and enjoy the paper. It's amazing how "invisible" a housekeeper's job is! For those who share the home and enjoy the fruits of "Mom's labor" things like clean clothes folded neatly in drawers, a tidy, sanitary refrigerator, vacuumed rugs, washed floors, swept and organized closets, prepared meals, answered mail, full toilet roll holders and all the other myriad details that go into running a home seem to occur like magic. If you don't see or take part in the process, you just accept it and expect it all to be done for you. In fact, unless something is NOT done, you don't notice it at all! This revelation came to me when I hired a housekeeper. My sweet lady would come one day every week. I'd leave things for Janet to do. After awhile, dusting and ironing and clean floors just "happened". Recycling was done, mats were shaken and shelves were wiped clean...and if I wasn't there to have a coffee with her and see her work for myself - I took my clean house for granted! Being a "housewife" is a full time job. Add parenting to this and you have an all- encompassing career - for which many of us apologize! I was lucky enough to have a job that allowed me to work at home. I had two jobs! Strips like this one were done to support all the smart, productive and caring moms I knew who were struggling to stay sane. These comic strip complaints also made me less resentful of my own responsibilities. It felt amazingly good to confide my feelings to an unseen community of friends...millions of them!!!

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Lynn's Comments: With this new element of interest to work with, I put myself right into Annie's shoes and examined all the thoughts I might have if the tables were turned. I would have been excited, happy, fearful and anxious all at once. Even with help close by, having another baby is a decision which changes everything and should be carefully planned, if possible. I also knew a lot about Annie; things the readers didn't know. I knew that she had her hands full and that her husband was serially unfaithful - something she suspected but didn't want to know. It was challenging to write about and draw people in an ordinary neighborhood, dealing with ordinary things. It made FBorFW come alive for me - and so much more interesting than if it had been static and everything had remained the same.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Katie was getting to be quite independent and was an easy kid to live with. My friend Marian across the street had her a lot of the time - having raised three boys, she loved having a little girl around and enjoyed looking after her. Aaron was in school, so I toyed with the thought of adding to the family. After some intense discussion, we decided that two was enough, but I still wanted the experience - so Annie, in the strip, got pregnant!

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Lynn's Comments: This was my mother's argument. The suggestion that she and I had more efficient metaboli and were therefore able to retain more of the nutrients we consumed was supposed to make us feel OK about weight gain. My dad and my brother didn't have to think about this. They burned off everything they ate! We were fortunate, she said. If she and I were ever marooned on a desert island with a group of people and little food, we would outlive everyone who needed to eat more than we did. At the time, Gilligan's Island was a popular TV show, so this scenario was easy to imagine. The thought of my mother and I being the last survivors, however, made me less than grateful. We were two strong characters, always in competition, and this would have pit one of us against the other. If it came to "dog eat dog"... I'd rather have been the one on the skewer than the one doing the roasting!

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I am 10 lbs overweight. This is normal for me. I feel best, most confident and most comfortable when I am close to the weight I want to be...but I like eating, more than I like being 10 pounds less. So, I have my fat duds, my intermediate and my thin clothes in a closet that needs purging more than my fridge does. I have jackets with shoulder pads bigger than Napoleon's and pants that went out on the ark. I have sweaters my mom made for me and at least one caftan that's never been worn. Let me explain the caftan: it's from the Middle East somewhere, is lovely and can't be parted with. I'm saving it for the day when I no longer care about the 10 lbs, no longer have a size-optional wardrobe and am luxuriating in the comfort of food. I just hope my taste buds are the last of my five senses to go!

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Lynn's Comments: The invention of the plastic container has given us the opportunity to save our leftovers until they are no longer a palatable alternative to fresh fare. At this very moment, I have three such containers waiting for consumption or compost...and since it's -20 degrees C outside, my guess is...I'm looking at guilt and garbage for at least one of them. Now that I think of it, I have several half finished jars of jam, an opened bottle of wine circa Sept. 2010, mustard that has no discernable label and a jar of beets I think I bought last spring. I also have fresh stuff I should deal with - and I will, today, most likely.... but as luck will have it...I've been invited out to lunch.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Lynn's Comments: We got a new fridge shortly after moving north. I ordered it from the Sears catalogue - which was the one stop shopping for everyone living in the "boonies". Everything came by train or truck and often took weeks to materialize. Clothing was always a risk - just because we all went to the same functions and were often caught wearing the same things. My new fridge was a beauty. I organized everything inside and put some colourful alphabet magnets on the door in preparation for the photos, notes and doodles I looked forward to hanging there. Kate, who was toddling and full of mischief, saw the magnets and before I could stop her, started to "scrub" them around, scratching the surface of my new fridge. I had only had it one day before it was "broken" in - and I was broken hearted. "Not sweating the small stuff" was hard sometimes!

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Lynn's Comments: My mother used to nag me constantly! Seems there was always something better to do than play or draw or watch television. The way I saw it, my room was my room and if I had to climb over a Vesuvius of moldering junk to find the bed I slept in, then that was my problem. Clean and ironed clothing was not a priority, nor was washing behind bodily protuberances. I longed for the day when I could do what I wanted to do, eat what and when I wanted to, have my own space, my own money and my own rules. That didn't happen until I was 20 and married for the first time. Then, I amazed even myself. I became a stickler for cleanliness. My apartment was spotless. Clothes were immaculate, ironed and sorted into their exact compartments. The bed was made, the carpets lint free and the kitchen was a neat, organized workspace. It wasn't until I had children that I realized what a degenerate slob I had once been. Hovering over my son as he miserably shoveled the crud out of his bedroom, I could hear myself nagging...with the same tone of voice, using the same language my mother used. Time and time again I promised myself I would not turn into my mother and here I was saying the same darned things - with the same predictable response. Years have flown by. Both of my children have homes of their own and it amazes me to see that they live in clean and tidy environments. I guess, in the end, nagging pays off. My mother, had she lived to see this day, would have been both proud and vindicated!

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Lynn's Comments: In Hamilton Ontario where I once lived, there was a curio shop which carried some of the most wonderfully hideous treasures I have ever seen. There were gold painted plaster statues, gaudy lump-covered lamps, plastic chandeliers, mass-produced paintings of deer beside waterfalls and copious decorative dust collectors of all shapes and sizes. One day, I saw in the window a huge image of the Virgin Mary. She was plastic and spray painted with garish blues, pinks and gold. Her hands were down at her sides, the palms open to the onlooker and she stood in a wide, deep, ornate plastic basin. Around the edge of the basin were a number of small metal "jets". She was a fountain, about 3 feet high. The best part was that from inside the base, sprouting up from beneath her feet were hundreds of tiny fiber optic tubes which formed a sort of glittering nest from which she rose. I was mesmerized. I went inside and asked the proprietor if I could see the Virgin in action. He complied. A small switch on the fountain's side made the water pour in small arcs into the basin. The fiber optic twinkling "bush" revolved about the Virgin's body and "Ave Maria" played on a music box from somewhere inside. She was marvelous. He explained that she was one of a kind, but that I could purchase her if I wanted to. I wanted to. I wanted to take her home and show her to everyone. I also wanted to give her to the right person - but I didn't know anyone who would truly appreciate this objet d'art as much as I did. Friends of ours were getting married. They were good sports and for a few moments I thought about how they would react if I gave her to them as a gift. I imagined them opening her up and trying to thank me for something they would never have imagined getting. The thing is - I liked them too much to do this to them, so I passed. It was too bad. But, at $300.00 she was also too expensive and so I abandoned her to the store window, wishing I'd at least had a photograph. I do have a mental picture, however, which is undoubtedly better than owning her.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I told you about this carving. I did buy it and it went down to the basement where it remained hidden and neglected for years. When Rod was looking at retirement hobbies and decided on model railroading, we made an "office" in the section of the basement where the freezer and the nuisance stuff was stored - and the carving surfaced again, to be sold at my mother-in-law's yard sale.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I confess. My kids had far too many toys. I wouldn't have called them spoiled, although I know they were...it's just that I love toys so much myself! The year that Rod and I were married, he moved into my house in Dundas. The garage was small and in order to make more room, we had to get rid of a few things - one of which was an original dime-operated Coke machine; a thing of beauty that my first husband had fought for, won and abandoned. Reluctant to let it go, we decided it would not be sold at a bargain price. Whoever wanted our Coke machine would have to make it worth our while. In those days nobody had much money, so when word of mouth brought us our only candidate, he was unable to give us more than 50 bucks. He was, however, an employee of Mattel - the big toy manufacturer and he threw into the pot an invitation to the annual Mattel staff Christmas sale! SOLD! The day we went to the big Mattel warehouse will forever live in memory. It was enormous. Barbie was still a big item as were all her pals. There were stuffed toys and baby toys and toys you could ride on, slide on and build. There were dolls and doll houses and tea sets and miniature kitchens and musical toys and child-sized furniture and you could have any of them in bulk and at prices we couldn't resist. Rod and I went crazy. We bought so many toys we could hardly stuff them into our small yellow Datsun. As we drove home, we regained our composure. The toy-fiend gratification gradually wore off and we wondered what we had done. We had one small boy to provide for, so what were we going to do with Barbie stuff? What were we going to do with everything we bought? We'd spent far more than the 50 bucks we got for the Coke machine! Without letting Aaron know that his parents had gone berserk, we hid our load in the attic. We gave away Mattel gifts at every opportunity. Everyone we knew who had a child received something from our stash. We were still giving stuff away as we moved to Lynn Lake and Katie received Barbies as soon as she knew the word "doll". I'm still a toy enthusiast. I love toy stores and an invitation once to the big toy fair in New York was toy heaven! I try not to buy anything. I don't need anything and in my house, I don't have space. Someday, however, should I ever become a "granny" I'll be shopping again for toys...but I won't be buying them for my grandchildren...I'll be buying them for ME!

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Lynn's Comments: In my life, I have purchased a goodly number of items which include operating instructions. I now know that it is not in us to read them. No. It's more important to try and figure out how the thing works or how to put it together than to waste time on "important information enclosed within". I think this is because we are all perfectly capable of operating, using, wearing, applying or cooking whatever it is without any advice from you, thanks very much. Last week, I bought an outdoor thermometer to attach to my kitchen window. It was a plastic ruler-like device with the image of a blue jay in the middle and a suction cup at each end. I took the thermometer out of the package, ditched the instructions, went outside and dutifully wiped the surface of the window clean. Any idiot knows you have to clean the "receiving surface" first. The only thing left to do was to center the thing where I wanted it to go and push! I placed the thermometer on the window, pushed it to engage the suction and SNAP! The damned thing broke in the middle...right through the beak of the blue jay. Bummed and babbling things I won't repeat, I went inside, pulled off the cups, tossed them into the what-not jar and fired the remains of the thermometer into the trash. A funk ensued. I whipped the instructions off the counter to see what, if anything, I could have done wrong. With a simple diagram and wording in both official languages the page clearly stated: Do not press thermometer in the middle. It will break. Press only on suction cups at either end. Hah! Stupid, dumb thermometer. I didn't like it anyway. The blue jay, for one thing, was corny and the whole thing looked cheap. I went back to the store and bought another one. A better one. And, this time, I read the instructions.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Aaron's "punch lines" were a gift. He would unwittingly change an expression or a turn of phrase that would then become part of For Better or For Worse. Kids say funny things all the time, but some are just prone to word play and Aaron trumped them all. There were times he would be "let off the hook" if his remarks got a laugh and I had to be careful not to encourage him too much or the discipline we managed to instill would go whizzing down the drain. Aaron wasn't the only one to add to the comic strip dialogue. Other family members did, too. The problem was that it wasn't always the funny remarks that wound up in the "funny papers." Sometimes the serious ones did, too. It wasn't uncommon for me to have a tense exchange with someone and after everything was resolved, I'd hear a threatening: "You'd better not put that in the strip!!"

Monday, February 14, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I have just returned from a dental appointment. It's fun to see that despite the many clinical innovations, some things never change. My hygienist talked pleasantly about her holidays as she scraped and prodded, trying not to say anything that required an answer...and later Peter, my dentist, did the same. Keeping your mouth open (rather than shut) is easy as long as the topic of conversation is middle of the road...but once a good volley of wit begins, the situation becomes a struggle. Living in Lynn Lake, where we knew virtually everyone, meant some social repartee. Patients expected their appointment would include both a check up and a check in - to what had transpired since their last visit. Everyone had a connection to us somehow, either through my parents-in-law or through Rod's early childhood, so it was hard to end a personal exchange and simply cut to the chase. My mother was one of our first large case patients. She required a load of bridgework and was, naturally, interested in the whole process. She had been given as much information as possible, but even with anesthetic swabs, and suction in her mouth, she was still asking questions. We did not have an assistant at the time, so I was the one handing the instruments back and forth. With family close at hand, Mom continued to talk until the Nitrous Oxide unit was strapped to her nose and turned on. Within, a minute or two she became quiet, mellow and relaxed. She breathed in the gas and exhaled a long, appreciative sigh. She had a goofy open-mouthed smile and her eyes twinkled as if she was half dreaming about something wonderful and far away. Over the next several hours, she said nothing and the work went well. I had never before seen my mother blitzed or blissed-out and when it was all over, I resolved to say little about how much she'd enjoyed her trip and how much we had loved the quiet!

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Lynn's Comments: The taboo subject of weight was hardly ever brought up in our house. The question "do I look fat in this?" was incendiary. Even at my most svelte, I still considered myself sofa-sized. With a comic strip to get out and personal baggage to exploit therein, I often drew Elly large-nosed, slumped over and bottom heavy. It was OK to do this. As long as I was critical of myself, the household ambience remained stable. Should someone ELSE deliver the blow, however - even as a joke, I was instantly rushed back in time to my moody adolescence when image was everything and a full length mirror dangerous to one's health. When Rod saw this strip, he announced; "That's not funny!" Sometimes the truth is stronger than friction. Later, when I no longer used fanciful images of flying objects, I explained to curious readers that this was how I felt at the time, and not something I actually did! Now, at the ripening age of 63, I'm no longer as obsessed with my waistline as I was then. I've gone beyond wanting to look like one of those angular sylphs in the catalogues. I'm comfortable with the way I am. I'm at ease with the woman within. I'm able to look at myself objectively and positively with confidence and cool. But ...should anyone joke about my wrinkles... WATCH OUT!!!!

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Lynn's Comments: If I can't sleep, I will often turn the radio on to the CBC. The droning of interviews, the endless ardent and erudite guests--from the Netherlands at night to the UK in the morning--send me into a haze unequalled since high school. When a lecture was lengthy and the room was warm, I slept easily sitting in a hard wooden desk with my head on a textbook. I didn't mean to drift off. I don't now. In fact, I'm a very good listener and I care! It's just that sometimes I can't concentrate on or absorb what's being said and then, the sound of the speaker becomes like the hum of an aircraft engine and I just fly away. I guess the good thing about this is; I can detect the same somnolence in others. I have learned to recognize the glazed eyes the controlled expression and the stifled yawn and I know that it's time for a break or a change of subject. I see it, I recognize the feeling and I relate to the individual...I just hate it, however, if they've been sitting there, listening to ME!