What can you say about a weekend that includes the deaths of both Charles Schulz and (confirmed) Samantha Mulder?

I don't care what anyone says: the fact that Charles Schulz passes away on the eve of his last "Peanuts" strip is not some "gee, isn't that weird" coincidence. I think there's a direct connection. He often said that the strip was his life. And now we know he meant that literally. I guess I'm speaking rather spirtually here, something I don't usually do. But there's something about the two events happening at the same time.

He was one of my heroes. Not just because he did something he enjoyed and was immensely successful at it (though that alone is inspiring). But he just seemed to live his life right. I think you can learn a lot about someone from their work, whether it's writing, painting, or doing a cartoon. Schulz once said in an interview that he was "just a cartoonist," and never studied philosophy or psychology. Maybe not, but that fact that "Peanuts" contained so many of these elements, and not in a preachy, forced way, means that Schulz knew something.

Yes, he will be missed, but there's something about the timing of his passing that feels so...right. If you know what I mean.

So, Mulder's sister really is dead, and she visits him as a ghost? OK, I'll buy that. The dreamy ghost scenes took some getting used to (The X-Files usually goes for the creepy or the terror-filled), but it was nice touch at the end. And, for once, the writers didn't jerk us around. This really was a sort of closure, and I'm just darn glad that her disappearance really was alien/government/CSM related, and not some other explanation sprung on us after so many seasons. Though one question: did she grow up with Jeffrey Spender in that community? Then why didn't he mention this to Mulder and Scully?

By the way, I'm officially ready for the winter to be over. I love the snow and the cold and the feeling in the air. But I get to a point where I just want it all to be gone, and the ground to be free of white and the temperature to rise. But it's not an anti-winter thing; in August I'm sick of the heat and humidity and yearn for the crisp air of fall, my favorite season. It's probably good that I live in New England, where different seasons and varied weather are guaranteed. Things change quickly, and often.

It's still winter, but right now it's almost 50 degrees and raining. Mulder is at peace. Charles Schulz is gone. Like I said, things change.

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