Our Patty’s Place deserves its own biography.
In July of 2007, the authors of this blog had a family reunion of sorts, and spent a week at a charming beach cottage in southern Connecticut. Many hours of planning went into this vacation, and we were, in the main, scared to death that we would entirely loathe each other after spending an whole week in such close quarters.
Happily, that was not the case. We lived on Earl Grey tea, chocolate cake, pickles, and episodes of Jeeves and Wooster. We made up stories involving cursed rabbits that turned into skunks in the moonlight, had dramatic readings of The Importance of Being Earnest (Rissa was made to read Cecily’s part), watched far too many costume dramas, and walked on the beach at midnight in defiance of the sign that insisted it closed at sunset. By the end of the week, we were better friends than ever, and hadn’t even packed up and gone home before we started dreaming of next year’s vacation. (We’re hoping for a cabin in Colorado.)
One thing we chuckled over down at our cottage was the fact that all but one of us had brought identical copies of Anne of the Island by L. M. Montgomery. At the picnic table out front, Grace read the chapter about finding Patty’s Place aloud–that’s when, of course, Anne and her best college chums were able to bid their boarding houses goodbye and rent an excessively charming old house while the two aged and venerable ladies who lived there went on a globe-trotting expedition. It seemed to us, as we read it, that it would be pretty nice to extend our vacation–indeed, we would have no problem being roommates indefinitely. The only thing we can conceive of ever having cause to fight over is whose turn it is to do the dishes. At the end of the week, however, we had to go our separate ways–some of us going as far away as Colorado and Minnesota.
Someday, though, we will have our Patty’s Place. As soon as we fix upon a location and re-order our jobs and finances a bit, there shouldn’t be any difficulty. . .right?
In the meantime, though, here is our virtual Patty’s Place. This will tide us over. We chronicle our everyday lives here, making a few necessary alterations, and putting them into story-format (you decide what is true, and what is merely an embellishment). Here, it is as if we never left that little beach cottage on the coast of Connecticut. And drawing on both the history of the house we rented (actually, it used to be a carriage house to the next door mansion, but never mind that), and a mutual old-fashionedness, we are writing as if it was 1908 presently, instead of 2008. As Rissa said, “It seems to me that it would be harder to make the modern world suitably charming enough for Patty’s Place.”