Beautiful dreams
My husband likes to accuse me of hating Peanuts (and apple pie, chevrolet and puppies) because I once said that the comic strip in the Sunday edition wasn't very funny. He forgets that I love the holiday specials and think the "early" Peanuts stuff was brilliant.
Last night, my busy little brain created an incredibly beautiful scenario. Some stranger was selling reams of antique wrapping paper (it was a dream, people). You should have seen this stuff. She wanted $250 for all of it, but would sell it in portions.
There was an especially memorable batch of Peanuts wrapping paper. Light and delicate, it felt like crepe. The background was blue and Lucy, with the blackest hair and the reddest hat you've ever seen, was on a swing. It was snowing.
I dreamt up a bunch of wrapping paper.
And it was about Peanuts.
Take that, husband.
Last night, my busy little brain created an incredibly beautiful scenario. Some stranger was selling reams of antique wrapping paper (it was a dream, people). You should have seen this stuff. She wanted $250 for all of it, but would sell it in portions.
There was an especially memorable batch of Peanuts wrapping paper. Light and delicate, it felt like crepe. The background was blue and Lucy, with the blackest hair and the reddest hat you've ever seen, was on a swing. It was snowing.
I dreamt up a bunch of wrapping paper.
And it was about Peanuts.
Take that, husband.
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