The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans)
Sims player fourteen generation deep into a legacy. Here's their story! Also, art and builds.
For someone who didn’t know what snow looked like a few weeks ago, I definitely got my share now. Maybe even, I think as I head out into the blizzard, a bit too much. Cléo, who keeps volunteering to take Cyril’s shoveling’s turn when he doesn’t feel up to it, probably wouldn’t disagree.
Just because the radio silence from my superiors at the museum is ominous doesn’t mean I’ll stop working on what I’m passionate about.
Ten hours a day, come hell or hail.
Through winter like summer, breakfast as a family is a tradition that needs no holiday to be upheld. But when we have a living room plastered in pretty decorations, and a sparkling, bright tree that’s just waiting to be admired… we don’t have to debate much to move the breakfast elsewhere.
Who cares about crumbs on the sofa anyway.
(Nounou. Nounou and Loladorada do.)
Mom and Dad, still soppy after over twenty years. Some would call it “goals,” envy it. And I find it cute, really cute.
But it also feels like entrapment. I know myself, and I know I couldn’t. Heck, if I were to follow the same path as them, I would already be getting married like, yesterday. That’s a hard no from me.
Not to mention, I doubt anyone could pull off the “oh look, I had holly in my pocket all along” trick half as well as Dad.
Okay, maybe Mom is comfier right now. Warm tea, snow through the windows, Winterfest decor all around, and the warmth and crackling sounds of a fireplace you installed yourself.
Mom’s living her best life.
It’s snowing again outside, which I couldn’t be happier about. With the tiniest of lucks, this means we’re getting a snowy Winterfest.
The snowflakes drum against my windows and I am warm inside, doing what I love best, as comfy as one can get.
The decorating morning was fun, but I do have some more ancient artifact from Selvadorada that I would like to release from their muddy prison, and then study. I’m not sure it will earn me any brownie points at the Museum, but when have I ever done anything because it would please the museum?
While I am burrowed inside my private little pool house, I can hear Mom and Dad “whee-ing” and “yaaaay-ing” as they make the most of our swingset, with no care about how low the outside temperature is.
I already have grand plans for Winterfest. Most of those plans involve food, but not only. I have costumes in mind. Costumes, grand decorations, food, Winterfest carols, piles of presents, and maybe, even, a special guest…
After all, we have a chimney now.
We’re very methodic about this.
Or not.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 