The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans)
Sims player fourteen generation deep into a legacy. Here's their story! Also, art and builds.
They say practice makes perfect, but let’s be honest, I’m not seeing any improvement here. I’m still terrible at snowpals, and I assure you, I’m trying really hard. I think the artistic gene in the Stewarts family vanished with Mom’s mothers, cause I sure as heck didn’t get a speck of it.
But at least the setting is stunning, even if my little pal here… definitely isn’t.
The vet clinic is located in a truly beautiful part of Brindleton Bay, as I think I’ve said before. In the middle of a forest that is now covered in deep snow, from the ground to the top of the highest green pines.
If you know your way through it, you’ll find yourself going down a slope — careful not to slip — and into an opening, to the vastness of the Brindleton Bay beach. Today the sky is a beautiful bright blue and the sun is shining on snow-covered sand. It’s a landscape of whites and blues and it’s a spectacle I’m happy I’m able to witness.
It’s definitely the season; at least in part. The vet’s waiting room is filled with sick pets and veterinarians walking back and forth, hurrying either to meet patients or wipe up some type of animal bodily fluid off the floor.
Like last time though, we are prioritized, because the blonde Stewarts heir hair opens you doors.
“Definitely a cold,” the helpful veterinarian tells me. “He’ll be okay, but we should keep him in observation for a few days. Nounou’s not getting any younger.”
I put a kiss on my grumpy cat’s head, and head back outside in the corridor, leaving him behind. I almost trip over Gram, who, she tells me, is here because her cat’s immune system didn’t walk into winter unscathed either. But she has more experience with this than me, and in a few wise sentences, reassures me that everything is gonna be alright.
Vet Season
Even cats are sensitive to the change of seasons. Or maybe it’s just that Nounou is getting old and more fragile. Or maybe it’s a bit of both. In any case, I wake up one morning and I can tell he’s not feeling his best; in spite of his festive little sweater, a mean cold has gotten to him.
It’s vet time! Back to the Brindleton Bay clinic. You know, the one that’s owned by Gram’s brother’s granddaughter. Or something. Hopefully, they fix him up as well as last time.
“If you’d told me in high school I’d end up bonding with Charlotte again over snowpal-making, I’d have laughed in your face,” Mom tells me above coffee. “And yet.”
“Raising two toddlers into adults must have changed quite a few things about what Charlotte finds fun, because not only does she suggest the idea of exiting the nightclub, she has a blast putting together her snowpal. We laugh a lot, and not even at the expense of anybody else. And it’s a welcome change from twenty years ago.”
The dancefloor allows Mom and Charlotte to reminisce about old times and old habits. Well, mostly Mom. It seems Charlotte has lost, if not her taste for music, most of her groove.
Mom hasn’t; at least not the way she tells it.
Mom’s reliving her teenage years tonight. I’m not there with her, but she tells me about it the next day, around a cup of coffee. Basically Shanna’s wife Charlotte couldn’t show up at our Ice Day gathering; but she still invited Mom to one of their old hangout spots. Windenburg’s oldest bar.
It’s their turn to gossip now. Mom gives me bits and bobs of what they discussed, but mostly I get the impression that at this point, this reunion wasn’t all she hoped it would be.
“And what about you, Shanna, what have you been up to?”
“Oh, you know! Taking care of Patience and Clémence. They’re about Hannah and the twins’ age now, but you know how it is: for twenty years there’s nothing else in your life.”
“Oh, I know! I know.”
“We’re doing good together, Charlotte and I. For a while, what with me being elected Mayor and her brand booming, we didn’t have much time for each other, but we found a balance. And she’s still faithful to herself, you know her, but she’s matured.”
“Haven’t we all?”
“Very true. Thankfully.”
“Guys, isn’t it too early to start decorating the tree?”
“You can’t tell us what to do, Mom!”
“… Guess I can’t.”
The night falls fast — as if we were in Winter or something — and the women of the family decide to go chat outside, around a cozy campfire.
… At least for a while.
…
Fire put out by yours truly.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 