persimmonsimmer

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Two More Beach Cottages

Red Roof Beach Cottage

Some call the old red roof a landmark. Everybody calls it an eyesore.

Somebody probably ought to tear this place down, but for some reason nobody seems to want to own up to, well, owning it.

(I love everything about how ugly this is. <3)

Driftwood Beach Cottage

Need an escape from the kids? Too bad, you brought them along with you and they're running wild all over this nice beachfront cottage you've rented for the week. At least the sunroom has a bar.

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Bunny T. Bunting Playground

A charming little tucked-away playground where the young families of Barge Harbor can frolic away the days.

If only there were any young families in Barge Harbor.

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Drop In N' Shop

Drop in, pop in, stop in—Drop In N’ Shop has the freshest foods* at the lowest prices this side of the harbor.

*freshness not guaranteed

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Your builds for Barge Harbor is so nice! Just want to lưt you know that.

Somehow I only just saw this message from well over a year ago in my inbox! So this is a suuuper delayed response, but thank you so much for the kind words about Barge Harbor! This message made my day. And there will be more Barge Harbor builds to come as I get back into the simming groove. :)

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*pokes head sheepishly through the door, waves*

I'm back--probably?--from my latest unannounced hiatus. At least, I'm feeling the Sims bug again and have been thinking a lot about Panorama, and about Barge Harbor and the stories I'd like to tell there someday when it's finally all built, and I've been thinking that I should probably get around to posting the latest Campbell round, at the very least, which has been mostly written in my drafts since February. And after that, it would be nice to actually play and post the Morales II round, and finally get to the end of rotation 6, which has now been dragging on since 2023. (If I can just get to the end of rotation 6, I have a plan for making some actual in-game progress to move the story along at something slightly above the snail's pace it's been going at so far. It's the getting to the end of rotation 6 that's been proving difficult, for a myriad of reasons. But perhaps 2025 will be my/Panorama's year.)

We will see how successful I am at doing any of this, but I'm excited to get back to it. Looking forward to seeing those of you who are still here around!

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Did a little bit of decorating today, focusing on an image from an 1950s decorating book!

Edit: I LIED. This was from a book @persimmonsimmer shared, mine is coming soon though!

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Hannah: "It's freezing. How long have you been out here?"

Phoebe: "Oh . . . I don't know. I don't feel cold."

Hannah: "Any particular reason you prefer to be out here than in our warm bed?"

Phoebe: "Just restless, I guess." She sighed. "I was thinking . . . about how long he's been gone."

Hannah: "Oh."

Phoebe extended her arms plaintively.

Phoebe: "He walked out of that door, he came this way, and then . . . where did he go? Where, Hannah? If only I knew where to look . . . If only I could be sure he's still out there somewhere, safe . . . but it's been years, and we have nothing. He's just gone."

Hannah gently took her wife's hands in her own. Despite Phoebe's claims of immunity to the cold, her fingers were icy.

Hannah: "I don't know where he is, but I do know that he's still out there somewhere. And this I don't know, but I believe . . . I believe we will see him again."

Phoebe: "No offense, Han, but I'm really not in the mood for the whole 'intuition runs in my family' spiel again."

Hannah: "I know you're skeptical. That's OK. I just don't want you to lose hope."

Phoebe: "I haven't lost hope. I'm not giving up on him. I just wish we had some actual evidence. I want Griff back home."

Hannah: "I know." She squeezed Phoebe's frozen fingers. "I know."

Phoebe turned her gaze to the vast star-speckled sky. For a few minutes, Hannah gazed with her in silence. Somewhere out there, if he was still alive, Griff might be looking up at the same stars.

Hannah: "We should get back inside."

Phoebe lowered her eyes back to solid ground, to the little red house she called home, to her wife, and she allowed herself to be led out of the cold.

Phoebe: "Love you, Han."

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Hannah: ". . . Phoebe?"

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When Peter finally returned, it was well after dark. He came in so quietly it gave Hannah a start to emerge from the bathroom and see him standing at the sink.

Hannah: "You were out for a long time."

Peter grunted, scrubbing harder at the sink.

Hannah: "Catch anything exciting?"

Peter: "Mm."

Hannah: ". . . Peter, are you all right?"

Peter: "What? Oh, yes, fine. Great."

Hannah: ". . . OK. Well, I'm going to bed. Good night."

Peter: "Mhm."

*sigh*

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Later in the day, once Miguel had been spoiled rotten and then reluctantly sent back home, Meda stopped by for a visit. It had been a while since they had a chance to catch up--and of course, most of the conversation centered around her rapidly approaching due date and her plans for the aftermath.

Meda seemed happy, so Phoebe was happy for her--but hearing her friend complain of swollen feet and an aching back and the constant beat of tiny feet against her insides, she thanked the Watcher she'd never had to go through that herself.

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The arrival of the weekend meant a couple days off for Hannah--but happily for her, it didn't mean going days without seeing her favorite grandchild.

Phoebe: "Look who missed you!"

Miguel quickly wiped his mouth with the back of a hand.

Miguel: "Hi Grandma Hannah!"

Hannah: "What a nice surprise! But did you walk through the snow all on your own?"

Miguel groaned.

Miguel: "It's just across the street. I'm not a baby."

Phoebe: "You sure aren't." She ruffled his hair. "Hey, you up to playing catch?"

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Meanwhile, back at the ranch . . .

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Peter tried to clear his mind of everything except the feel of the rod in his hands and the way the ripples in the pond glimmered under the sun's cold rays. It usually wasn't this hard.

I'm a fool.

I'm a fool.

The refrain went on and on. Then:

No. She said she feels something for me. The way she kissed me that night . . .

She's still ashamed. She won't allow herself to think of that night as anything other than a mistake. But she feels the same way, I know it.

I can't give up.

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Umph. Grnnp. Snork. Slrrrmph.

It was only just after six in the morning, and Peter had already reached his breaking point.

Peter: "Ugh! Watcher, have you always been such a slob? You're spraying food all over me."

Phoebe took a break from inhaling her cereal to burp.

Phoebe: "Listen, asshole, I'm trying to cut you some slack 'cause of the whole freshly-divorced thing, but --"

Peter: "I don't need your sympathy." He shoved himself away from the counter. "I'm going fishing."

Phoebe: "Fine. Don't let the door hit you."

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Peter's legs carried him automatically through the snow drifts to the bench. He sank down onto it heavily.

She doesn't want me.

I'm a fool.

I'm a fool.

I'm all alone.

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Then, almost as if fate itself were intervening on his behalf, suddenly there she was. It was a sign. He called out to her.

Slowly she peeled herself away from her group. Peter's heart thudded as she approached.

Citlali: "Peter?"

It had been too long since he'd heard her speak in her sweet, shy voice. Peter's mouth was dry.

Peter: "Anna and I got a divorce. Just now. I'm glad I ran into you. I . . . wanted you to be one of the first to know."

Citlali's eye's widened.

Citlali: "Oh."

Don't lose your nerve now. Say it.

Peter: "The night we kissed . . . I'm glad it happened. It showed me what I was missing. I've realized . . . I'm crazy about you, Citlali."

Citlali: "Peter . . . "

Peter: "We can take things as slow as you want--I know you have Miguel to think of--but I want to give the two of us a chance. I know you feel it, too. You don't have to fight it anymore. I'm free now. We can be together."

Citlali: "Peter."

Citlali: "I'm . . . It's too late. I do feel something for you, but . . . "

Peter: "Then give us a chance. It's not too late. There's nothing stopping us anymore."

Citlali: "There's someone else."

Blood pounded through Peter's ears.

Peter: "Who?"

Cintia: "Citlali? We're on our way to the store. Are you coming?"

Citlali: "Yes! Just a moment!"

She turned back to Peter, bit her lip, looked away.

Citlali: "I'm sorry about you and Anna. But . . . I have to go."