Category Archives: Uncategorized
Friday, April 12, 2013
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Lynn's Comments: The punch line here came from my experience with McMaster University. When I was first hired as a medical artist, everyone was working in temporary facilities as we waited for the new medical centre to be finished. We all had direct contact with the doctors, for whom we were working, and information was easily transferred from the physician to us to the drawing board. Later, when we moved into the new building and the department expanded, supervisors were hired to supervise supervisors, and direct access to the doctors became impossible. Suddenly the artists were trying to get information through a chain of command, which naturally resulted in misunderstandings and mistakes. Going directly to a surgeon to find out exactly how to interpret a procedure was discouraged. What was once a straightforward process became... well,... like trying to take seeds out of a watermelon with rubber gloves on! In frustration, I became the class clown again; a jokester--it was the only way I could survive the assistants who were assistants to assistants!
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Lynn's Comments: I had so much fun with this drawing. Imagining John hiding behind a door, waiting for a hamster to follow a trail of crumbs made me laugh out loud.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Lynn's Comments: Sallie's guest did not get away like this, but a reader told me about their hamster's disappearance. It was eventually discovered months later in a nest he had made for himself inside their couch. A rodent is a rodent after all!
Friday, March 1, 2013
Lynn's Comments: Here is another strip that got me into hot water. Readers thought John had actually KICKED the dog in panel two! What I had tried to show was John putting his foot under Farley's rump and moving him. I would never have shown someone kicking a dog! This taught me to never draw an action unless I could draw it well! .
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Lynn's Comments: Letters came from folks who really did not understand this gag. I'd hoped that the bulge in Elly's stomach would convey the message. I mean...wasn't it obvious that she was indeed putting "enough into it?" My editor seemed to understand, as did my mother-in-law. (I passed everything by her because there were times she didn't get an elephant joke. If Ruth didn't get a gag, I knew I was going to have to rework it!) Still, I had complaints that this punchline didn't make sense. I'll leave it with you. Did you get it??!!
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Lynn's Comments: Farley, the real dog, hated baths. If he just heard the word, he'd head for the hills. I usually washed him outside, but during the winter, I would stuff him into the tub, which meant the entire bathroom got wet along with him. After I dried and brushed him, Farley looked like a massive plush toy, his fur poofing out as if he'd stuck his tail in a light socket. He would look like this until he had to go outside, where he'd find something dirty to roll in. He was a lot of work, but I didn't mind. He was family...and a real character!
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Lynn's Comments: The kids were never far away--I used to listen to their banter as they made up games, created forts in the living room, and played house. I was impressed by their ability to fantasize. I remembered my own childhood, when a mud pie tasted like the real thing, and if you rolled up in a blanket, you could fly. Even though we seemed to be "in a world of our own," we were still aware of our immediate environment.
Aaron, Katie and Aaron's friend, Roy, were playing one day, and some of their dialogue disturbed me--they were talking about bombs, murder, divorce, and other things they had heard about on television. This had to be absorbed, of course, and dealt with as much as any other experience outside of Sesame Street and Saturday morning cartoons. I worried that I was not talking to my kids enough. Later, when Roy had gone home, I asked them about their conversations, their ideas, and their perceptions. I felt good about being there to answer questions and explain some facts. In return, Aaron asked me if life was the same for me when I was a kid and I had to say that it was--we just didn't hear or see as much as they do now. We were far more protected from negative realities. When I think about it, we were really naive, and for that, I'm somewhat grateful!
I now have a grandchild. I see kids as young as two, happily using computers, eBooks, and iPads and I wonder how much more the babies of today are learning...too soon, too fast.
Aaron, Katie and Aaron's friend, Roy, were playing one day, and some of their dialogue disturbed me--they were talking about bombs, murder, divorce, and other things they had heard about on television. This had to be absorbed, of course, and dealt with as much as any other experience outside of Sesame Street and Saturday morning cartoons. I worried that I was not talking to my kids enough. Later, when Roy had gone home, I asked them about their conversations, their ideas, and their perceptions. I felt good about being there to answer questions and explain some facts. In return, Aaron asked me if life was the same for me when I was a kid and I had to say that it was--we just didn't hear or see as much as they do now. We were far more protected from negative realities. When I think about it, we were really naive, and for that, I'm somewhat grateful!
I now have a grandchild. I see kids as young as two, happily using computers, eBooks, and iPads and I wonder how much more the babies of today are learning...too soon, too fast.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Lynn's Comments: When this strip was first published in 1984 the second panel read, "I can't--all my stuff is in THAT one!!" The other day I received a call from Sue, my long-suffering editor, who asked me if it was better grammatically to say, "All my stuff is in THIS one"--considering that John was referring to the bathroom directly in front of him and not the one downstairs. I agreed, and we changed the dialogue. I guess this proves that it's never too late to be caught by an editor!
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Monday, January 14, 2013
Lynn's Comments: I have known a lot of medical folks through my job at McMaster University--just "the luck of the draw!" I once asked a psychiatrist friend from Hamilton, Ontario how many psychiatrists there were in the city and he replied, "Oh, 40 odd.... and two normal." It was a funny line, but the more I got to know various docs, the more I wondered how hard it would be to counsel a patient when your own private life was completely out of hand!
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Lynn's Comments: Here, chauvinist Ted tries to influence John Patterson to be a bit more assertive when it comes to women. As far as I know, my husband had nobody like this in his circle of chums, but it was necessary to insert a character who was not exactly likeable or practical -- to help create and support new dialogue.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Lynn's Comments: Looking back at these strips, I can see exactly when they were done by the kinds of things I slotted into the background. In this scene, John and Ted are having a chat over lunch, and rather than draw two talking heads, I put them in a bar. In an effort to be up to date, I showed them playing one of the latest table-top video games. Strange... I recently found one of these covered in dust in an "antique" shop!
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Lynn's Comments: I guess aerobics was one of the first sort of "dancercise" workouts designed to coerce exercise-resistant pork-butts like me to get up and move. I did go to the YMCA here and sign on for one aerobics class, but, WHOA! .... It was such hard work! Still, in a group setting like this, you're far more likely to put in some effort. The downside of doing aerobics at home... is being caught in the act by someone with a lethal sense of humour.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Lynn's Comments: This scenario comes from my childhood. We never had pop or beer in our fridge--it was just too expensive. When my friends and I were old enough to go to the corner store on our own, we'd spend our allowance on a coveted bottle of Coke or Orange Crush or my absolute fave; cream soda--and we'd savour every drop.
One day, my friend Marian and I decided to buy one bottle of cream soda and a bag of penny candy and split them both. We rode our bikes back to my place, poured half the pop into a small, clean plastic detergent bottle, and drank the rest. It was a warm day so we decided to ride up to Lynn Valley Canyon and have a picnic. It took awhile to get there and by the time we arrived, we were hot and dry, and keen to take out the pop and candy. We leaned our bikes against a post and retrieved the stuff from the basket on my bike. Despite the heat, the candy was un-melted, but the once flat-sided detergent bottle was absolutely round.
With all the caution and forethought that young kids are known for, I twisted the cap as I raised the bottle to my mouth. The cap blew off hitting me in the forehead as a paint-peeling blast of cream soda smacked hard between my eyes. It was in my hair and up my nose. I was covered with it. The foam seemed to come out of the bottle for ages, and when it died down, there was still a bit of liquid in the bottom, which I gave to Marian. After all, we were supposed to share. We left our bikes, opened the candy, and walked across the swinging bridge. My clothes were already gluing themselves to my chest. I could feel the stickiness pulling at the skin on my neck. Everything smelled of sickly sweet cream soda. My hair was full of it. ... My mom would KILL me!
At the end of the path on the far side of the canyon, was a deep pool where the water fell from an outcrop above. We called the pool ,"Thirty Foot." It was the openly secret swimmin' hole for every kid on the North Shore, and by today's standards, would have been considered too dangerous and cordoned off. I hadn't planned to go swimming, but by the time I'd hiked down to Thirty Foot, I was miserable. I didn't think twice. I went to the edge of the pool and jumped in.
I think that's the first time I ever went swimming with all my clothes on. I was wearing shoes, socks, shorts--everything--and it felt wonderful! Marian decided to jump in, too, but took her shoes off first. Smart move. With other kids arriving to cool off, we couldn't strip to let our clothing dry so the wet walk back to the suspension bridge made us filthy, and soggy shoes made for an even more uncomfortable ride home. I remember everything about that day--especially the bomb in the bottle. I never yearned for a cream soda after that, and any fully clothed plunge now has to be near a change room. In wanting to show pop at its most powerful, I decided to create a Sunday strip rather than tell my soda story. It would have taken far too long!
One day, my friend Marian and I decided to buy one bottle of cream soda and a bag of penny candy and split them both. We rode our bikes back to my place, poured half the pop into a small, clean plastic detergent bottle, and drank the rest. It was a warm day so we decided to ride up to Lynn Valley Canyon and have a picnic. It took awhile to get there and by the time we arrived, we were hot and dry, and keen to take out the pop and candy. We leaned our bikes against a post and retrieved the stuff from the basket on my bike. Despite the heat, the candy was un-melted, but the once flat-sided detergent bottle was absolutely round.
With all the caution and forethought that young kids are known for, I twisted the cap as I raised the bottle to my mouth. The cap blew off hitting me in the forehead as a paint-peeling blast of cream soda smacked hard between my eyes. It was in my hair and up my nose. I was covered with it. The foam seemed to come out of the bottle for ages, and when it died down, there was still a bit of liquid in the bottom, which I gave to Marian. After all, we were supposed to share. We left our bikes, opened the candy, and walked across the swinging bridge. My clothes were already gluing themselves to my chest. I could feel the stickiness pulling at the skin on my neck. Everything smelled of sickly sweet cream soda. My hair was full of it. ... My mom would KILL me!
At the end of the path on the far side of the canyon, was a deep pool where the water fell from an outcrop above. We called the pool ,"Thirty Foot." It was the openly secret swimmin' hole for every kid on the North Shore, and by today's standards, would have been considered too dangerous and cordoned off. I hadn't planned to go swimming, but by the time I'd hiked down to Thirty Foot, I was miserable. I didn't think twice. I went to the edge of the pool and jumped in.
I think that's the first time I ever went swimming with all my clothes on. I was wearing shoes, socks, shorts--everything--and it felt wonderful! Marian decided to jump in, too, but took her shoes off first. Smart move. With other kids arriving to cool off, we couldn't strip to let our clothing dry so the wet walk back to the suspension bridge made us filthy, and soggy shoes made for an even more uncomfortable ride home. I remember everything about that day--especially the bomb in the bottle. I never yearned for a cream soda after that, and any fully clothed plunge now has to be near a change room. In wanting to show pop at its most powerful, I decided to create a Sunday strip rather than tell my soda story. It would have taken far too long!
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Lynn's Comments: Wherever Aaron was playing, Katie wanted to be, too. With their big difference in ages, she was considered a pest. The boys would holler for assistance and I'd rescue them from the fumbling hands of a little kid. I would then have to find something special for Katie to do so she wouldn't feel left out. I often wondered if her gravitation to the boys' bombs and light sabres wasn't a neat ploy to get 100% of Mom's attention!
Friday, December 21, 2012
Lynn's Comments: The real Farley didn't care much for candy, but he did like to chew stuff. Knowing he was not allowed near the Christmas tree, he would sneak across the floor like a stalking cat. Then, when he thought we weren't looking, he'd bite chunks off the candy canes and spit them out. I bought plastic candy canes to replace the real ones, and these later (when we no longer had a pet) became part of a family tradition: when Aaron and Katie helped decorate the tree, the candy canes were plastic but on Christmas morning, they "magically" became real!
Friday, November 2, 2012
Lynn's Comments: Like so many, I would rather buy a can of pumpkin filling or purchase a whole darned ready-made pie, than go to the trouble of making one myself. In reality, I have only once cooked and eaten a pumpkin. In this one true-to-life case, I did cook our Halloween pumpkin and learned a valuable lesson: Never cook a pumpkin you've used as a Jack-o-lantern...it tastes like *#$%!!!
Monday, October 8, 2012
Lynn's Comments: I don't remember mushrooms being a bone of contention for us growing up because fresh ones were too expensive and canned ones simply disappeared into the stew. Mushroom soup was a staple gravy base and casserole sauce, so it didn't count either. When actual fresh fungi were finally introduced to our palates, we were all grown up. It's our children who have had the luxury of rejecting one of the most delicious culinary delights known to man!
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Lynn's Comments: These are some of the one-liners Rod often heard in the clinic. He always had to laugh as if he was hearing them for the first time.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Lynn's Comments: After dinner we had a routine: Check to see what homework had been brought home and "remind" Aaron until he got it done. Oh, he would have done it without the nagging. He would have left it until the last minute and dashed off enough to make do. He might even get up in the middle of the night to complete a project, but we liked him to finish it earlier. We wanted to teach him responsibility and pride in having done something to the best of his ability. We didn't want him to do what WE did!
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Lynn's Comments: When we lived in northern Manitoba, mechanical problems had to be fixed by US. There were no technicians to call, no company to complain to. My husband just figured out how to get things going again. A dental clinic is a really complicated place. There are water lines, air hoses, suction devices, and all kinds of appliances. When we set up the practice, he put in all of this stuff himself. The clinic was in an apartment above Walter Perepeluk's grocery store. Rod and a friend worked for days to attach all the pipes, and this had to be done between the tiles on the ceiling of the store below. After a great deal of hard labour, it was announced that the pipes and the wiring were complete. We celebrated with a good dinner and a glass of wine. The next morning, however, when Rod went into the grocery store to check on his handiwork, Walter met him at the door with a strained look on his face. The entire ceiling, a network of plywood, panels, and tiles had fallen to the floor. The store was a mess of tiles, dust, and dirty produce. With more than a little fanfare, the new dentist had arrived!
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Lynn's Comments: I put some serious stuff into the strip trying to unravel what was going on in my own life, while poking fun at the "Pattersons." Sensitive issues were out there in the open, but when people would ask me how I could reveal so much, I'd laugh and say it was all a figment of my imagination.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Lynn's Comments: What I wanted to say here, was--Michael had a kind heart. He wanted to cheer up an elderly neighbour, but was embarrassed by his own actions and played down the gift by saying the flowers were something his mother wanted to get rid of. I don't think the punch line worked too well and this strip sort of missed the mark. Sometimes the hardest thing about describing a situation like this is...well, describing a situation like this!!
Friday, July 20, 2012
Lynn's Comments: There was a single rooster on the farm and he had become downright mean. Don figured that the hens had all been eaten by pigs or other animals while they slept in the barn, so the old bird had nothing to do and took his frustrations out on everybody. We were told to wear boots and to use them if we had to--since the rooster would often pull a surprise attack. He frightened Aaron, who was low to the ground, so we figured we had a choice: get the rooster a partner or put him down.
Just about then, the washing machine died, so Beth and I set out to find a replacement. An ad in the paper took us to a neighbouring community. The folks who were selling their machine just happened to have some nice white hens, so we added the price of a fat one to the price of the washer, loaded them both into the back of the truck and drove home. The men folk had stopped for a beer and were standing in the yard when we returned. Beth held up the burlap sack with the hen in it and announced that the rooster's new mate had arrived.
If there was opportunity for a wager out on the farm, the guys were keen. How would the new lady be received? Beth and I said she'd be attacked as soon as she hit the floor. The guys were more circumspect. They bet ten bucks that the rooster would be a gentleman. He'd welcome her to the pig barn, show her around, and THEN get to courtin'. Beth carried the sack and hen to the barn. The upper half of the doorway was open and the rooster was resting on a hay bale just inside. Beth lowered the sack over the barrier and shook it gently. The hen bounced onto the straw with a startled "AWWWKKK?!" The rooster awoke and was instantly on her--wings flapping and legs astride. We told the guys to pay up.
For a few days after that, we saw the hen and rooster together. They pecked around the yard and seemed to be happy. Aaron found eggs in the sod pile--a sign that the marriage was successful--and then the hen disappeared. Like the rest of the chickens, she had simply vanished.
For awhile, the rooster looked for her and then he got mad. He attacked Aaron and then me. He flew at Don's face while he was putting out feed and that was the last straw. Beth and I were getting dinner ready when we saw Don take his rifle and go into the bush behind the barn. We heard a sharp crack and then he returned. He had solved the problem "the way it's done on the farm." The rooster was gone forever...but his story lingers on.
Just about then, the washing machine died, so Beth and I set out to find a replacement. An ad in the paper took us to a neighbouring community. The folks who were selling their machine just happened to have some nice white hens, so we added the price of a fat one to the price of the washer, loaded them both into the back of the truck and drove home. The men folk had stopped for a beer and were standing in the yard when we returned. Beth held up the burlap sack with the hen in it and announced that the rooster's new mate had arrived.
If there was opportunity for a wager out on the farm, the guys were keen. How would the new lady be received? Beth and I said she'd be attacked as soon as she hit the floor. The guys were more circumspect. They bet ten bucks that the rooster would be a gentleman. He'd welcome her to the pig barn, show her around, and THEN get to courtin'. Beth carried the sack and hen to the barn. The upper half of the doorway was open and the rooster was resting on a hay bale just inside. Beth lowered the sack over the barrier and shook it gently. The hen bounced onto the straw with a startled "AWWWKKK?!" The rooster awoke and was instantly on her--wings flapping and legs astride. We told the guys to pay up.
For a few days after that, we saw the hen and rooster together. They pecked around the yard and seemed to be happy. Aaron found eggs in the sod pile--a sign that the marriage was successful--and then the hen disappeared. Like the rest of the chickens, she had simply vanished.
For awhile, the rooster looked for her and then he got mad. He attacked Aaron and then me. He flew at Don's face while he was putting out feed and that was the last straw. Beth and I were getting dinner ready when we saw Don take his rifle and go into the bush behind the barn. We heard a sharp crack and then he returned. He had solved the problem "the way it's done on the farm." The rooster was gone forever...but his story lingers on.