sunday: Browse The Strips

Sunday, January 4, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I have always had fun with sound effects and radio broadcasts, labels and names. Jim Borecki is the name of a good friend, with whom I have lost touch. I tried to contact him by putting his name in this strip, but so far I have not been able to find him.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I never went shopping with my husband; having a man wait patiently, or impatiently, while I peruse a dress shop would be horrible! I would have to rush, which would take away from the true shopping experience. Whenever I see some sad chap sitting uncomfortably outside the change room in some frou-frou boutique, my heart goes out to him. I want to say, "Get off your duff, go do something YOU want to do, and meet her somewhere else!" This strip was done in solidarity with those who shop and those who wait.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Lynn's Comments: One of the things I love to do is sound effects. Trying to come up with the phonetic spelling for the sound a head makes as it hits a pillow, for example, is so much fun. ("FWUMPP" would do it). I think the sound effect I am most proud of is the sound of a toilet plunger. It goes: "Ka_FLOOMP-a-GUSH." Sometimes you have to decide whether to repeat a letter as in "FWAPPPP!" One "P" just won't do it. A smack with a wet towel, for example has to sting. This requires several P's.

If you are a fan of Mad magazine, you'll remember the wonderful comic art of Don Martin. His sound effects were fabulous. I think he coined "Fwoooommmm!," and "Ka-chingggg!" One of the weirdest letters I ever received was from Don Martin's wife accusing me of stealing her husband's sound effects. I didn't think I had. The sounds I wrote all came from my head. Then again, can you really lay claim to a cartoon sound? WHHHHOOOOO!!! I sure hope not!

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Lynn's Comments: One day, I got tired of seeing the pile of single socks and mittens that had accumulated next to the dryer, and I threw them all out. A while later, I was cleaning out the storage room, going through camping gear, old toys, and outdoor clothing, and I found a collection of single socks and mittens--mates to the ones I had thrown out. I wished I had looked through the camping gear first--but I might have tossed out all the single things only to discover their mates in the laundry.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I am someone who procrastinates until stuff HAS to be done. In order to force myself to do ironing, say, I give myself a deadline--I have learned from the strip that deadlines provide the pressure I need to produce. I'll invite friends for dinner at 6:00 on Saturday, for example, so I'll definitely have the kitchen clean by the time they get here. I'll promise someone an article of clothing, and then I HAVE to go through my closet. I'll have a garden party to force myself to weed my garden, and on it goes. This strip was done when I was in a panic. I had procrastinated for so long that I was late; my editor expected to get this strip several days beforehand, and if I didn't get it done ASAP, I'd be fined for missing my deadline. I wondered what in the world I would do for this Sunday page--and it hit me! Why not write about procrastination!

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Lynn's Comments: This is me. This is my teenage room, and my way of doing things. Some strips I did from memory, and with renewed respect for my mother.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Lynn's Comments: My friend and graphic guru, Kevin Strang, has a dog named Oden. Oden is a large, lovable yellow lab with a sweet disposition. Oden likes squeaky toys--especially rubber chickens, of which he has several. He doesn't bite through them, he squeezes them carefully, enjoying the sound they make with obvious pleasure. He squeezes them in a way that kind of communicates his thoughts. Rapid squeaks suggest playfulness, longer sighing squeaks, thoughtfulness--loud defined squeaks mean boredom has set in or a snack is required. It's funny. I often go to see Kevin and we'll sit in his studio working out a colour scheme for a calendar or an illustration. Oden will sit beside my chair and squeak his rubber chickens to his heart's delight. Kevin will likely not be reading this so I can tell you that as much as I love his dog and as funny as I think the chickens are--I often wish that the *#@**&%$* squeaking would STOPPPPP!!!!!

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I have always loved making up names on things like cereal boxes. In art school, one of the things we had to do for commercial design was to come up with an entire cereal box--from the size to the ingredients to the illustration on the cover. This meant we had to figure out how much space we needed for type (in two official languages): brand name, logos, contents, weight, nutritional value, and directions. Packaging is a whole industry of its own, so this was a really good exercise. The cereal I came up with was "Sugar Soggs." The art showed a kid eating some gruesome candy-coated gruel. It was okay, but the best design was done by one of the guys in the class; he called his cereal "Uncle Brian's Grumpies." On the cover was a grimacing caricature of the instructor, whose name was Brian, and the ingredients he made up were hilarious. In terms of funny, he had me beat by a mile. Neither of us got a good mark because we hadn't taken the project seriously. It seemed to us that despite the prof's objections, cartoons do sell!

Later, when I worked for Standard Engravers, a packaging firm in Hamilton, Ontario, I was given the opportunity to design a giveaway on a cereal box. I thought this would be neat, until I was given a space about 2 inches square on the bottom right corner. This was a real challenge--and that's good. If you give a cartoonist or graphic artist a blank page and say "draw something," they have to think for a while. Give them a tiny, awkward space, and suddenly the ideas come out of the blue. A great example of this is Sergio Aragones' "marginals"--the tiny cartoons that tumble around the page borders in Mad magazine. When he suggested he be hired to do these, he was told that he'd run out of ideas. Some 45 years later, he's still producing them, and each one is wonderfully different.

For the small corner space on the cereal box, I designed finger puppets, pencil toppers, decals, and "spinners" (a top made from paper). It was fun. I thought this could be a surprisingly satisfying career, but things went in other directions. I still get to work on cereal boxes but in a different way!

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Saying thanks was something I tried to hammer into my kids and now, my grandchildren. It's a simple word, takes no time to say and it means so much to the person who has done you a good service. Sadly it's something not heard enough. The other thing we should hear more often are the words "I'm sorry".

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I am a militant shopper sometimes. I sneer at able-bodied folks who park in the handicap zone, grumble when they squeeze all the tomatoes, and will audibly sigh if there's a long checkout line and some bozo decides to redeem a wad of coupons. On a busy weekend outside my favourite grocery store, someone had parked across the ramp. Shoppers couldn't get to the parking lot without heaving their carts over the curb. The situation I drew in this strip was based on this incident, but it has a different ending.

I waited a minute, wondering how long this inconsiderate person would be. He certainly had to know that he'd blocked everyone's path. I had a couple of choice comments to make like, "Couldn't get any closer, hum?" or "The parking lot's THAT way!" Soon the doors opened and an elderly man appeared. He was helping a woman who was pushing a small, half-filled shopping cart. He smiled at me as he held her steady and eased her forward. "My wife had a stroke," he said, "this is her first time outdoors since she managed to walk again and she wanted to shop for groceries." I opened the passenger door and kept the cart from rolling forward as he lovingly helped her into the car. I then handed him their grocery bags as he loaded them into the trunk. He explained that he'd moved the car closer to the door for her and was sorry for the inconvenience. He thanked me sincerely as he worked himself into the driver's seat. As they drove away I thought to myself, "Thank heavens I didn't say anything!" It was another lesson; a good story--and I guess I didn't have the courage to tell it the way it was!

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Lynn's Comments: My dad loved to invent characters and to story tell. When he read a book to us, he read like a practiced thespian. He spoke with accents, changed the pitch of his voice, and made fairy tales come alive. When I did this strip, my dad had been gone for a number of years. I was able to bring him to life again by writing and drawing short vignettes like this one. It would have been just like Dad to call and pretend to be the Easter Bunny!

Sunday, April 12, 2015

Lynn's Comments: About three months ago, I took a few days to clean out all my kitchen and studio drawers. I discovered pens, pencils, erasers, tape, scissors, glue, push pins--enough to open a small shop. I put everything away where it should be and made sure to place supplies close to the phones. Yesterday, I called a friend to ask for an address--and I couldn't find a pen!!

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Lynn's Comments: A few years ago, I lost a load of weight. I was thrilled with myself, and in celebration, I gave away all my larger clothing--swearing to the walls and windows that I would never gain back those excess pounds. Last week, I went looking for a favourite pair of pants only to realize they had been jettisoned during my THIN period. Pity. They would have fit me quite nicely, now!

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Lynn's Comments: After this strip ran, I received dozens of letters from readers who wanted to know what the heck was Michael doing with a bag of milk! Everyone knows that milk comes in waxed paper cartons or in plastic jugs, so what was this all about anyway?!

All an artist has to draw from is what she sees around her, and in my place of residence, milk comes in cartons, but also in strong plastic bags with a set of three bags of milk inside. Each smaller bag contains a litre of milk and we use special plastic or pottery jugs to keep them upright in the fridge. This way of packaging milk is as familiar in Canada as Coke in a can, so I assumed my readers everywhere would get the gag! Not so. The thing that struck me about the questioning letters was that some of them were as cruel and derisive as the trolls on the internet are today. They spoke with indignant authority, demanding to know what the **** I was talking about! Didn't I KNOW that milk doesn't come in bags?

Fortunately, this was when mean messages came with return addresses and we had a lot of fun sending photos and copies of milk advertisements to those who needed to see it for themselves. The impression I got from this was that not enough people travel, and they should!--Especially to Canada.

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I toyed with the idea of making the punch line something like: "But, Mom, you don't PAY me!" But then, I thought back to the times in my own childhood when I hated doing menial tasks at home but would help a neighbour just for the fun of it. I didn't actually enjoy doing things for my parents until I was well into my teens! When it comes to understanding kids, it's a good thing we have our memories to rely on. We just have to admit that we did the exact same things.

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Lynn's Comments: During the 50s, bubble gum cost two cents a piece. Two pieces would fill your mouth with a perfect wad--the best for blowing bubbles. We kids would go to the corner store, pool our money, and buy the two pieces. Then, we would share the gum! The wad had to go from mouth to mouth in good time so that the flavour was enjoyed by all. Sometimes, as many as four kids would share. We'd all see who could blow the biggest bubble. It got in our hair, on our clothes, and our mouths would sport a dirty, sticky circle of gunge as we blew and popped and blew again.

AAAAUGH! I can't believe I told you that!

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Counting to three is a joke. Really. When kids hear you count to three, they, naturally, watch to see what comes afterwards. DUHHHH--We bozo adults are then left to find some nebulous consequence. This is such a dumb thing to instigate. So, why is it that we all do it? --All of us! All the time!!!

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Lynn's Comments: This was a scenario from home. My daughter, Katie, had, at the age of four, learned how to use a screwdriver, and had gone about my mother-in-law's house unscrewing things. Ruth tried to open a kitchen cupboard door and it came off in her hands along with the handle. We were both perplexed. How in the world had all the screws come loose? We looked about for Katie and found her outside in the driveway trying to take the license plates off my car!

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Strips like this brought messages of hope and sympathy from moms all over the world. The one criticism I received was, "So, where did Elly find the time to have cookies and tea?"

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Lynn's Comments: This didn't happen, but here's a story that did: I was about 12 years old. For weeks, a cat had been coming to sit under my bedroom window and howl. It sounded like a demonic baby's cry, and I hated the sound. Nothing would deter the cat so one night, I decided to get even. I opened the window wide, placed a pitcher of cold water on the windowsill, and waited for the cat. Like clockwork, it arrived in full voice, and as soon as the howling reached a crescendo, I dumped the water. The cries I expected to hear, however, didn't come from a cat. They came from my brother who had a room in the basement. He had been sneaking out of his bedroom window and howling under mine!

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Lynn's Comments: One year my dad insisted we all go on a camping trip into the BC interior. He was an amateur rockhound who loved to gold pan, and his plan was to follow the route of the gold rush to Barkerville and back.

Before we left, both he and my mom made sure we kids had everything we needed. They packed, repacked, checked, and double-checked our suitcases, and told us that if we forgot anything, we'd be out in the bush where there were no stores, we would have to live without it. Off we went in our old 1959 Chev, with a pile of supplies and suitcases lashed to the top of the car.

After a long day of driving, we finally came to our first stop; a swampy, mosquito-infested campground just north of the town of Hope. The sun had dropped below the mountains. Mom reminded Alan and I that there was nothing around us for miles, and to make sure we had everything we needed for a night in the woods--just as Dad discovered he'd forgotten the tent poles.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

Lynn's Comments: When I did this strip, my husband and I had a Cessna 185 with amphibious floats. Much of our time was devoted to flying and to looking after the plane. My husband was a serious and well-trained pilot, and when he bought our son, Aaron, a model aircraft, he was sure he could fly it as well as he flew the Cessna. He quickly discovered that a model requires very different skills. This is yet another comic strip based on a scene from real life, and I don't think I asked for approval!

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Lynn's Comments: My three-year-old granddaughter and her friends have learned the word "consequences." When you do something bad--there are consequences. Recently, after a nice evening of playtime and stories, Laura decided she wasn't going to go to sleep. She whined and cried and tried to wake her baby brother, with whom she shares a room. Her mother, Katie, said she would have to give up her favourite sleep toys if she didn't end the strike. Laura whined and lost her teddy. She then lost her blankie, her pillow, her quilt and her sheets. The whining continued until she was lying on a stripped bed with nothing but her "pull-ups" to keep her warm. At this point she capitulated, stopped her bad behaviour, and decided to sleep.

Katie was pleased to have had the standoff resolved--thanks to "consequences."