baking sheet: Browse The Strips
Saturday, November 6, 1982
Saturday, January 21, 1984
Thursday, February 14, 1985
Sunday, June 2, 1985
Friday, January 10, 1986
Wednesday, March 26, 1986
Thursday, March 27, 1986
Friday, October 3, 1986
Tuesday, November 11, 1986
Sunday, November 30, 1986
Friday, April 17, 1987
Thursday, August 20, 1987
Friday, August 21, 1987
Saturday, December 23, 1995
Monday, December 13, 2004
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Lynn's Comments: As much as I wanted my children to learn about cooking, cleaning, organizing and how to talk on the phone, It was easier if they simply played at my feet and just let me do these things myself. Some of our most treasured moments, however, were when they did help, and these mundane household accomplishments were as rewarding as a good grade in school. It takes time and patience to let children do ordinary things- but when we do, we're giving them lessons for life!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Lynn's Comments: We would never identify the good times as being good if we didn't have crap to compare it with. There's no way Heaven could be perfect bliss because we wouldn't appreciate it! Humans need the rollercoaster of ups and downs... which is why we continue to make life so darned difficult for ourselves!
Friday, February 14, 2014
Lynn's Comments: My mom made the best cookies in the world. Her decorated sugar cookies could have won prizes for flavour and design. I haven't mastered her wonderful skill--because I just don't have the patience. Or, maybe it's just hard to see a work of art chewed up and swallowed!
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Lynn's Comments: My mother had a day of the week for laundry. Rain or shine, she washed on Wednesday, and there was an order to the way she hung the clothes on the line. Sheets, towels, and good clothing was hung first--so it could be seen and appreciated by the neighbours. Underwear and things not meant for public scrutiny were hung closer to the house. These things were easily reached by standing on the rungs of our porch railing, and often fell prey to my brother--whose pranks with Mom's unmentionables were legendary.
After our neighbour's big dog, Teddy, died, their daughter, Tootie (our babysitter), bought a small fuzzy pup, which she called "Noby"--short for "Nobody." Noby was a sweet, easygoing little pooch who put up with just about anything the local kids would do to her. One day, Alan decided to dress her up in Mom's underwear. Noby dutifully stood still while bra and panties were administered. Al expected a wild struggle for freedom, but Noby stood still. Frustrated by the lack of action, Al lifted Noby up and placed her inside a sheet, which had been doubled so it could hang on the lower line. Noby went crazy. She squirmed and howled, and we worried that she'd tear the sheet open. Tootie soon came to her rescue. She pulled Noby out of the sheet, cuffed my brother on the side of his head, threw the bra and panties on the lawn, and went home.
I picked up the underwear and put it back on the line. The sheet was left to dry. Later, when Mom pulled in the laundry, I watched as she folded it. When she got to the underwear, she frowned, wondered why it looked unwashed, but kept on folding. Then she reached for the sheet. There in the middle was a mess of dirt and dog hair. Mom looked at me and said, "Where's your brother?" Alan, of course, was gone. I was close at hand and received the brunt of her wrath. After a thorough tongue-lashing, I was sent to my room--Al had to wait. Nothing was said when he came home, and I was furious. I thought I had taken the blame for everything! Later that evening it was clear that justice prevailed. When Al pulled the blankets back on his bed, there was the dirty sheet. Grossed out and grumbling, he slept on it for a week!
After our neighbour's big dog, Teddy, died, their daughter, Tootie (our babysitter), bought a small fuzzy pup, which she called "Noby"--short for "Nobody." Noby was a sweet, easygoing little pooch who put up with just about anything the local kids would do to her. One day, Alan decided to dress her up in Mom's underwear. Noby dutifully stood still while bra and panties were administered. Al expected a wild struggle for freedom, but Noby stood still. Frustrated by the lack of action, Al lifted Noby up and placed her inside a sheet, which had been doubled so it could hang on the lower line. Noby went crazy. She squirmed and howled, and we worried that she'd tear the sheet open. Tootie soon came to her rescue. She pulled Noby out of the sheet, cuffed my brother on the side of his head, threw the bra and panties on the lawn, and went home.
I picked up the underwear and put it back on the line. The sheet was left to dry. Later, when Mom pulled in the laundry, I watched as she folded it. When she got to the underwear, she frowned, wondered why it looked unwashed, but kept on folding. Then she reached for the sheet. There in the middle was a mess of dirt and dog hair. Mom looked at me and said, "Where's your brother?" Alan, of course, was gone. I was close at hand and received the brunt of her wrath. After a thorough tongue-lashing, I was sent to my room--Al had to wait. Nothing was said when he came home, and I was furious. I thought I had taken the blame for everything! Later that evening it was clear that justice prevailed. When Al pulled the blankets back on his bed, there was the dirty sheet. Grossed out and grumbling, he slept on it for a week!
Monday, January 12, 2015
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Friday, October 2, 2015
Lynn's Comments: I still believe this theory to be true. My mom-in-law's secret for serving the best hostess meals ever was: offer lots to drink and no nibbles. Then, when your guests are ready to eat the coasters, whatever you serve will be the best they ever tasted.
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Lynn's Comments: My son, Aaron, did play the trumpet for a while in band class at school, but he was never really interested in it. His heart was in film and photography--as soon as he could hold a camera! Still, it was important for me to include music in the Patterson Family's routines, so Michael began trumpet lessons with uncle Phil. This allowed me to recall my brother Alan's lessons, performances, and serious dedication to the trumpet. His long hours of practice, with the repetitive "tattica-tattica-tattica," are still vivid in my memory.
Sunday, November 29, 2015
Friday, March 25, 2016
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Friday, August 19, 2016
Lynn's Comments: My daughter is the one now who does all the creative cooking. I often arrive at her door just at dinnertime--not meaning to invite myself, but happy to see her set an extra place at the table.