Back from China

So I returned from China and my dad wanted to talk to me. He decides to do this in the guise of 'training' me -- basically going into the fitness room and working out.

One thing that gets overlooked about my father is how maniacal he is about staying in shape. As crazy as he is about music (and let's face it, he is nuts about it), he's just as much of a stickler for working out. It's a regimen he began in his teens and he continued well into adult and now elderhood. I do think it's his secret to maintaining his vitality.

"Savannah, I need to know," dad began, "just exactly what your occupation is. What is your job title?"

"At the cemetery or --"

"With the trips. Not even two simdays after you left Egypt you were called to China. Care to clue me in?"

"Gotta tell you, dad --" I said, "I'm an adventurer. There. I said it."
"But princess, there's got to be more than that. You're not just wandering willy-nilly about the globe doing nothing."
"I'm an archeologist," I told him, "I study ancient civilizations. And --"
"Whatever it is you're doing it's certainly making you happy. I've never seen you like this, you're positively glowing.
"Sometimes my adventures require me to go down in tombs older than all of us put together and retrieve valuable and ancient relics. I'm having a blast, really. I'm meeting new people and learning a lot of new things."

He continued the conversation in my bedroom. We were watching the Llamas' big football game against their archrivals. Poor dad was going hoarse yelling at the TV. "You know that was interference!" He then turned serious. "You know, princess, I've always said that as long as you're happy then I'm happy. It's clear to me that your restlessness and curiosity have led you to pursue this unusual career path, one you obviously love." After the football game, he turned to some sappy love movie, and I heard a lot of his guitar riffs in it.

Back on the road

China this time. :-) I know this has to be my shortest blog post ever, but you know where to go now to follow me.

Later,

Savannah

Mommie Dearest (cont'd)

My mother has a problem with my lifestyle. I knew that pretty much from the get-go. She's had a problem with it since I was born, so I wasn't surprised that she was upset about my choice of career.

I was typing in my travel notes when she sat at the table with a bowl of soup.

"You know, Savannah, I'm still trying to get my head wrapped around the fact that you're an archeologist."

"You should be proud of me, mom," I told her. "I'm studying ancient cultures, traveling around the world, and meeting new people. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life."

"Savannah, I see that this work does make you happy. It's just that -- I worry about you, going all these places, why? You could find fulfillment right here in town."

"Mom, you know I never really 'fit in,' not in this family nor at school. When I was a teenager I kept a lot of my activities secret. I didn't tell anyone I was president of the school chess club. Why? Because I was trying my darndest to 'blend in.' But Ari showed me I didn't have to do that. I could just be me. All those times I broke curfew, you think I was out drinking and smoking and partying? Heck no. I was either in the library reading or exploring the catacombs at the local cemetery. There was the one time I was at Clarice's house. When it comes down to it, I'm a big fat geek, mom, just like you and dad and Aunt Margaret."

Mommie Dearest

I try to understand my mother, really I do. After all, when I look in the mirror, I'm looking at her even more than I'm looking at my dad. I inherited her build, her nose, her eye shape, and her lip shape.

We 'met' over breakfast, and as usual, she spent about ten minutes carping over my clothes. But I would divert her -- temporarily.


"How's your latest painting going, mom?"
"Pretty good, actually," she said. "My latest went for five grand at auction."
"That's impressive, mom."
But mom would have none of it. "Savannah, why did you go to Egypt?"
"I wanted to," I told her, "I've always been curious about it, if the stories were all true."
"What was it you were doing there?"
"I'm an archeologist," I explained, "I study ancient civilizations." Of course, I only told her half the story. If I'd have told her the other half, that I comb ancient tombs for treasure, that I dodge mummies and fire traps, that I chop through piles of rubble and dive head-first into wells, she would have a coronary right then and there.
"An archeologist? Really?" she said. "I'm a little surprised, Savannah. It's not an occupation I expected a daughter of mine to go into. But then again, nothing about you was ever typical."


"As a little girl, Savannah, you hated dolls and dresses. I used to dress you up in these cute little clothes and you'd come back dirty with your jeans ripped. I used to get so upset." She also said when I was little I loved reading, playing chess, playing catch outside with dad, and collecting bugs in and around the house. "I knew you were different the moment you came out of me. I even named you 'Savannah' in hopes that my hunch about you wasn't true -- and it was."
Mom did something I didn't expect her to do. She talked about her childhood. It was something I'd never heard from her.
"Before the disaster (the one that claimed her parents' lives and those of most of the residents of the town where she lived), I lived a pretty decent life. I had a mother, and a father, and a happy home. The names of my parents have been lost to time, but I still have fairly vivid memories of it."



She pulled out this one photograph, in which she's sitting alone -- in a cemetery -- reading.
It explained nothing, and it explained everything.
It explained my mother.

Back home... for a while.

Well, to come crashing down with a giant t.h.u.d..

Dad was the same, down in the basement working on yet another song, I think he's gonna incorporate some international rhythms in it. His producer's talking about putting out a greatest hits album. Talk about milking your cash cow.

And I had to help Sebastian with his math homework. He's having trouble with long division. Fortunately I'm pretty good at math so I decided to teach him a method I used. But all he wanted to talk about was my trip.

"Bastian, I'll tell you after you do your homework," I had to tell him over and over.

After arriving home, I decided to visit Ari. I hadn't seen her since our graduation party and, of course, quite a few things had changed, not the least of which the fact that I'd traveled to Egypt.

"Savannah!" Her voice rang out clear as a bell.

I ended up gushing to her about everything. "So, when I open the sarcophagus and the mummy jumps out --"

"You mean -- you really saw one?" Ari asked me. "I thought they were, you know, just myths."

"Like, yeah, I did, and I have the pix to prove it."

Ari shook her head. "Ok, Vanna, I'm used to your tall tales by now, but you've totally outdone yourself this time."

I pulled out my bag and showed her all the ancient artifacts I'd collected and the pix I'd taken of the Great Sphinx, the Pyramids, the Ruins of Karnak, and the campsite where I'd stayed.
"Oh... wow.... you know, Savannah, this trip has really gotten to you, hasn't it? I've never seen you so animated. You're practically glowing.... and it's not because of the sun tan either." I'd never thought about it that way. Ari was right, the trip had changed me, in ways I hadn't even realized. I'd come fully alive in the desert, in a way I never had before. I knew the adventuring life was the one I was going to pursue. I, Savannah Rachel Plumb, was going to be the sim world's greatest adventurer.

I'm off!

After dad pretty much gave me his blessing, I checked online at sims.world-adventures.com (author's note: not a real site) and looked at the three currently available destinations. I signed up with MorcuCorp as an archeologist-in-training. Most of you know that archeology and genealogy are two big interests of mine and have been for awhile. For my first trip, I've chosen Egypt. I'm fascinated by mummies and tombs and hieroglyphics (sp). I first tackled the catacombs beneath Sunset Valley when I was a child. I figured the tombs in Egypt were just the logical next step.

I chose a new tomb-raiding outfit (as I heard it's warm in the desert in the daytime and cool there at night), and I packed some odds and ends like my guitar, some reading material, Aunt Margaret's laptop, her bike, some water, and some skin moisturizer (don't want my skin to get overly parched while I'm combing tombs).

I had mom braid my hair before leaving because, quite frankly, it'll be too hot in the desert to leave it hanging down. She didn't want me to take this trip, but she sounded pretty resigned to me actually doing it. Before she left, though, she gave me a death flower. Mom is big on gardening and knows plants like the back of her hand. Apparently the death flower could be used to give to the Grim Reaper in exchange for 'another life.'

I called the travel agent to let her know I was ready to go. Dad gave me one of his big bear hugs and mom a once-over. She sighed.

I walked out of the door, not sure if I would ever see my home again. My grand adventure had officially commenced.

Oh... one more thing. If you want to keep up with me and my adventures, head on over to my new 'personal' travel blog. Click on the picture link above to go there. I'll be back @ JPN when I return home.

Ciao for now,

Savannah R. Plumb

Plumb Family Tree

This is one portion of our family tree. Because it is so crazy, it won't even show everybody. My dad is mostly at fault for what has happened, though. Not that I'll complain about having a big family.

You start out with my paternal grandpa, the family founder. His name was Nigel Plumb. The story is he came to Sunset Valley with 16K, the clothes on his back, and a teenage daughter to raise. The teenage daughter, of course, was dear Aunt Margaret (Maggie). I used the nickname my father gave her for convenience.

The story goes, when my grandpa started working at the hospital, he met (and fell for) my grandma, Jamie Jolina. Thing is, my grandpa actually wanted to marry her...but she declined, worried that living on grandpa's farm would interfere with her lifestyle. My grandma wasn't exactly a farm girl, you see. She was a doctor.

Despite it all, through their union Nathan was born. Nathan, of course, is my dad.

He began sowing his oats as a very young man, with union after union with much older women. Shown on this tree is Noah, one of the results of such a union. Not shown on this part of the tree is his mother, Holly Alto.

Right next to Noah on the tree is me, Savannah. I was his long-awaited daughter after four sons.

Next to me is my brother Sebastian. His birth was quite the surprise.

Notice that Noah has a line leading down, as well. That's for my nephew, Neil. Neil is Noah's first born (and so far, only) child.

Odds and ends

I went to the mail this morning and found a couple of surprises. The first was a check for three hundred sixty simoleans, paid to me by Mr. Tripp for my painting. Not bad for my first commission, if I might say so myself. The second was an application to join SiMensa, the Sims' high-IQ society, the geniuses club of which both my parents and Aunt Margaret are/were all members. I think my grandma was a member, too, not sure, and Cylene and Clarice are, too. I set the application aside and decided I'd get to it some other time.

Suddenly, I had a hankering to see Mortimer. I'm still not sure why I did, but I got dressed, tried to do something with my stick-straight hair (thanks for nothing, dad!) and drove my car over to the Goth manor.

I'd never been there, and I'd heard it was this scary, spooky place, but it wasn't that way at all. It was just another mansion.

Mortimer came to the door. "Savannah, what a surprise."

By the time I looked at my watch, though, it was time to go to work. Thankfully, the cemetery was right by the Goth manor, so it was a quick drive.

I felt brave after going to work, plus I'd been promoted to "overseer of the dead," so I decided to go into the catacombs again. The first time I went alone, I was really little, younger than most when they tackle this the first time.
I came out with a few precious uncut sapphires and bruises all over my body. No big deal, really.

I was leaving the cemetery when I saw ... dad.

I couldn't let him see me like this, but despite my ducking and dodging he managed to chase me down. For an old guy, he sure is speedy.

"Vanna -- what happened to you?"

"I -- I took a nasty fall," I told him. I wasn't completely lying, but I wasn't telling the whole truth, either.

"Care to clue me in on what's been going on with you?"

I shook my head. "What do you mean, dad?"

"Vanna, I know you've been up to something, I just can't put my finger on what."

I took a deep breath. I ended up telling him everything.

"You know, Savannah, I've always told my children to do what makes them happy, not to do things because I did them. Your mother may not like that you've chosen to have this kind of vagabond existence, but if leading this life of adventure makes you happy, who am I to stop you?"

First Day (on the job)

Well, today I started my new job. And I have to tell you, it wasn't what I expected.

This morning, I woke up, like always. But Sebastian was at the table, and he had just finished eating his pancakes when he watched me chew.

He startled me when he asked, "Vanna, how come mom is always fussing at you?
I couldn't believe it. I nearly spit out my pancakes. And I didn't have an answer for him, either.

Meanwhile, I arrived for my first day on the job at five-thirty. The ghosts hadn't awakened yet, so it was a peaceful jaunt to the gates. I found myself partnered with Mortimer Goth (yes THE Mortimer Goth) and I found out he was so old, he was a teenager when my dad was born! He didn't know my grandfather but he knew my grandmother, briefly. And he knows Noah well and was at his wedding. It's kinda creepy, knowing that someone is still alive who knew your grandmother.
While I was in the cemetery, I came to realize something. It's not my parents I need to make happy, it's me. And for some reason, being in the cemetery makes me happy.

As soon as I got home, my cell phone rang. I would be shocked to find out why.

Antwan Tripp (an old friend of the family) commissioned ME to paint something for him. My reaction was surprise, initially, but ultimately I couldn't possibly pass on the opportunity. I would get started immediately.

Painting is one of the other things that makes me happy. I've been painting since I was little, actually. I'm told that as soon as I blew out my birthday candles to become a child, I asked my parents for an easel and a paintbrush.

I woke up the next morning with fractals dancing in my head, so they appeared on the canvas. I fiugred since Mr. Tripp wanted the painting in his office he'd want something interpretive, a conversation piece. I'm almost done with it, just a little bit left to go.

The aftermath (continued)

I kinda figured mom was bluffing when she promised she'd make me live to regret what I did at the wedding. But she wasn't kidding. She actually threatened to kick me out of the house. I told her I would only leave when I get ready, and it looks as though it'll be sooner rather than later.

But I don't regret what I did at the wedding and would do it again if given half a chance.
Still, I did take one piece of her advice and get a job -- but not where you'd think I'd get one. I mean, as the daughter of two musicians (and famous ones at that), you'd think I'd be a shoo-in for a gig at the theater that now bears my dad's name. But I didn't get a job there. I could have gone over to Doo Peas and gotten a job there, too, in business or journalism. Problem is, for starters, I can't see myself sitting at a desk all day, and the nine-to-five grind simply bores me.

I got a job for no other reason than the fact that I simply did not want to be sitting around the house all day. As it is, I'm working weeknights from 6 to 9. I really don't give a damn what the town gossips say.

Yes, I work at the cemetery. Nathan Plumb's daughter is an undertaker. Put that in your pipe and smoke it for a second. I can't see myself doing it for the rest of my life, but as far as for right now, absolutely.

Of course, I haven't told any of this to mom or dad. But I came real close to telling it to dad. Really, really close. But no cigar.

Dad and I were down in his basement playing foosball at the foosball table. It was just him and me, no bothersome brothers or meddling mothers around.

"You know, Savannah, your mother really is quite upset over your rendition of the 'Love Serenade' at your brother's wedding."

"I don't see why. What's the point?"

"Her issue is that you performed it without asking Noah or Sadie for permission."

"Judging by the way they were dancing along with everyone else, they liked it, too."

Dad smiled. "You know, half the battle in life is taking your opportunities when they present themselves, knowing how to seize the moment. You're like me in that respect -- you instinctively know how to seize the moment. I actually liked your rendition of the Serenade."

I blushed. Coming from him, knowing that he knows his notes backwards and forwards, that was a huge compliment.

Then Dad went into one of his infamous soliloquies. He doesn't talk very much about his beginnings, but I know he wasn't born wealthy or famous. "You know, Savannah, I first got into the music biz because of an opportunity that presented itself. I was playing guitar in the park when someone -- turns out to have been a talent scout -- came up to me and handed me their business card. He called the next day after having arranged a private audition for me. And the rest is history."

I thought about what might have happened if the talent scout hadn't discovered my dad.

But he continued. I'd heard a lot of stories, but not a lot about this aspect of dad's life. "When I first started with the symphony, there were a few people who, quite frankly, weren't sure how to take having a farmer's son in their ranks. It was like I was poison. They didn't want me to touch their instruments, sit in their chairs, or socialize after hours with them."

"Sounds stifling," I told them. I didn't tell him I think I would have gone off on some of those folks.

"My clothes raised a few eyebrows amongst the privileged set, too. But I kept at it. I made them accept me. I wasn't going to change for them -- they'd have to change their attitudes towards me. And they did."

"Dad," I asked him, "why did you go into the symphony?"

He laughed. "You know what, I'm still not entirely sure. I do think it had a little to do with my mother. She played classical music all the time in the house."

"Dad," I told him, "you should write a book."

"You know what, I actually started it, but I never really had the time or the motivation to finish it."

"I'll help."

"I know you would, dear, but it's kinda something I need to do on my own."

"Dad -- I want to, really. Kind of a collaborative project. I know Aunt Margaret researched the English and Welsh part of our family, but the Sunset branch -- our branch -- that's our job."

The aftermath

So, that was it. My brother had gotten married. People made a bigger deal of this than it actually was. I know that dad shelled out some pennies, and so did the family who raised Sadie. Seriously, why go to all the trouble just to tell someone you love them?

The papers, of course, crowed about it the next day, with a front-page spread complete with pictures. There was Noah beaming in his tux and Sadie in her gown, and more pictures of other guests splattered around. I wonder if it was like this when Nancy Landgraab first got married.

The other consequence of what happened was, of course, I got to hear another command performance from the one and only Motormouth Mom.

"I trust it you had a good time at the wedding," she began while washing dishes (yes, despite the presence of a full-time maid she still insists on housework).

"I would like to know, Savannah, what was that production last night?"
"The party had stalled," I reasoned, "so I decided to liven it up a bit."
"I went into town today, nobody was talking about the wedding, everyone was talking about you. I had a reporter come up to me asking to interview you. You know what? Savannah, I cannot believe the stunt you just pulled. I am sick and tired of you doing these types of things. Once again, you have made yourself the center of attention. Once again, you have made it all about you. You have consistently defied me and your father and embarrassed this family."

"Well, Noah seemed to like it."

"Noah's like his father, he's not gonna say anything, he's not gonna cause a scene -- unlike some people I know --"

"Mom -- in case you missed my birthday party at the beach, I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm not someone you can just push around. I can do things on my own."

My mother shook her head and let out a deep sigh. "Savannah -- why can't you be like normal girls?"

"Because I'm not a normal girl. I'm Nathan Plumb's daughter -- his only daughter. "

"And that comes with a certain cache -- a certain set of responsibilities. Responsibilities you're not living up to. You need to figure out what you want to do with yourself and you can't go around making a spectacle of yourself like you did last night."

Right after my parents came home from work that evening, the conversation continued over dinner. As usual, dad reached for the leftover hamburger in the fridge. The only thing that's different with dad is his gait is slower and his hair is grayer. He's pretty much the same otherwise.

"I had an idea and I ran with it," I told him, "don't you think I deserve credit for at least that?"

Dad mumbled, "uh-hum," between bites.

Mom set her tray down, glaring at me in silence.

"You and your ideas, Savannah," she sighed. "You've had them your whole life. I remember when you were a little girl and I had first gotten promoted to conductor of the orchestra, you showed up an hour late to the after-party wearing dirty jeans and flip-flops. You never told me where you'd been."

I changed the subject again. "Well, it was the 'Love Serenade,' entirely appropriate. Dad taught it to me, and I decided to use it. People were dancing, they were having a good time. Isn't that what you're supposed to do at a wedding?"

My Brother's Keeper Part 5

After I'd finished playing, apparently dad couldn't get enough of music. He parked himself in front of the stereo.

Noah and Sadie managed to find the formal dining room by themselves. Sadie chose the stu surprise while Noah ran for the chocolate chip cookies. Man, dad taught him well, huh?
I didn't hear everything they were saying, but it seemed every other word was "Savannah."

"Please, Sadie, I really don't feel like talking about this now," Noah said with a smile. "Let's just enjoy our wedding night."

I ran out of there as fast as I could, even before the rest of the guests started leaving. I went back home, changed my clothes, and decided to clear my head with a jog around the neighborhood.

I would brace myself for the morning papers.

My Brother's Keeper Part 4

While Noah was on the phone with Bridgette, I saw everyone was standing around and the party was pretty much dead. So I got out my guitar and started playing.

I'd played in public before, but not in this situation, so naturally I was a tad nervous. But as I was playing I got more and more comfortable.

Most of the party guests -- including the bride and eventually the groom -- gathered around me. There was this one creepy old guy who was watching me like a hawk. I suppose it's true what my dad always says about music -- it's the ultimate ice breaker.

Speaking of dad, he and Esther were yukking it up in a corner. I don't know if they were actually watching or not -- maybe they were, maybe they weren't.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Noah. I couldn't even read the expression on his face. He's not like dad, where what you see is what you get. Dad is an open book, you pretty much know what to expect. With him, there's a little more mystery.