Friday, July 2, 2010

A Yankee Doodle Table and A Pitcher Named Molly



Yankee Doodle went to town, riding on a pony. Stuck a feather in his cap, and called it macaroni.
Yankee Doodle keep it up, Yankee Doodle Dandy. Mind the music and the step, and with the girls be handy.

And this, boys and girls, is why macaroni salad is traditionally served
at Fourth of July backyard barbecues all across the United States.


I just now made that up.

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It's the Fourth of July (almost -- use your imagination!) so what else is there to do
but put together a table setting in the red, white and blue of Old Glory?

Come on, sit down . . . .

It's a lovely cool day, no need to put the air conditioning on in the sunroom.
Open windows and soft breezes, that's summer.


The white cabbage pedestal plate from Goodwill is playing host to a Dollar Tree pillar candle,
some Party City floating flaming stars, and daisies and hydrangeas from the garden.



The Liberty Blue Staffordshire china dishes -- a legacy from the Bicentennial -- rest on
our red party plates, with antique monogrammed linen lapkins (eBay) tucked underneath.

Big summer wine glasses -- because summer is a thirsty time -- Dollar Tree.
Blue swirled votive cups -- also Dollar Tree.

The Liberty Bell is here, crack and dust and all . . . just in case we want to ring for the servants.
We'll be ringing for a long, long time.


And George and Martha Washington have come to lend a little spice to the table.
If George looks a little disgusted with Martha, it's because she just can't help making a spectacle of herself at parties. If it's not a lampshade on her head, it's a frilly flag toothpick.
The girl's got game.

So set yourself down.

I have not a clue what I'll be serving for our Fourth of July jamboree,
but I'll do my best
to serve it in style. With maybe a frilly flag toothpick in my hair.
Me and Martha, sisters under the skin.

Speaking of sisters . . .

. . . the fine sister manning (womanning?) that cannon is Molly Pitcher -- whose real name was not
Molly Pitcher, but she went down in history with that nickname.

At the Battle of Monmouth in New Jersey she buzzed around, dodging bullets and cannonballs, bringing water to thirsty troops (it was June and blazing hot). When her husband collapsed at his artillery post, she took over the cannon and helped to win the day for the Patriots.

Yay, Molly. She might have lived in Pennsylvania, but she was born in New Jersey, and became the stuff of legend here. She died the year That Old House was built -- 1832.

Well, golly, it is after 7:00 in the evening, and I am just getting around to my Thursday post.

Ye gods and little fishes!

Go visit the following blogs for more posts and parties! Click on the logos below. -- Cass


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