Michael: Browse The Strips

Sunday December 28, 2025

Lynn's Comments: When my in-laws moved, we had to empty their freezer. It was huge and we went through the contents the way archaeologists would tackle a dig. There were pies on the bottom that must have been 15 years old. Not wanting to waste anything, Ruth dutifully cooked up everything she could—except the dried, wizened, freezer burned hot dogs. Not even the kids would touch those!

Saturday January 3, 2026

Lynn's Comments: When I was in high school, some of the girls were glued to bride books—talking about the rings they wanted and the weddings they’d plan. I always thought they were crazy. In the end, I was one of the first to tie the knot. In those days, I’d have been disowned if I moved in with my boyfriend.

Sunday January 4, 2026

Lynn's Comments: I did this to my brother. It was one of those spur-of-the-moment things that seemed like a good idea at the time. His girlfriend, on the other end of the line, was convinced that he had another girl with him. I did such a good job of cooing into the phone, he had a hard time convincing her that it was his sister playing a prank. I paid dearly later on…but it was worth it!

Wednesday January 28, 2026

Lynn's Comments: I think this is the first time “Ned” appeared in the strip. It was against the rules to show a naked backside in the “funny papers,” so, naturally, I wanted to test the waters. Stuck to the window of Mike and Weed’s apartment was a tiny, naked plastic man. Ned appeared regularly and was never “caught” by an editor.

Sunday February 8, 2026

Lynn's Comments: This idea came from a lunch I had with Peanuts creator, Charles Schulz. We were in a busy pub. There was a hockey game on the big screen television, and when someone shot the winning goal, the bar erupted in, “We’re number one! We’re number one!” Sparky turned to me and said, rather dryly, “I don’t understand. How can these people say they’re number one when all they did was sit here? They did nothing!” I wanted to make this as authentic-sounding as possible, so I asked my friend Kevin Strang—who was on his way to becoming a professional hockey player, to help me write the commentary. (Kevin also colours my Sundays.) The name Borecki was for a dear friend with whom I was hoping to reconnect. Sometimes putting a name in the papers like this helped me to find people.