my name

I am Aileen Sanchez Madrigal.

letter to an old chum

My friend,
Please accept  my  condolences at this sad time. I too, think about you often. I probably did compose a message a couple of times, but I imagine you being so busy that I didn't really expect a reply. Or sometimes, I forget to hit Send. It's good to hear from you nonetheless; sometimes when people leave the periphery of my consciousness, I wonder if they were an imagined legend!

Hey, listen...
L, after hounding me forever and more than a year of me dismissing J's idea, just went ahead and "started me" a blog. It's called "Cannot Merge", after the way I drive. You are one of the most relevant friends I have in this respect because one thing we have in common is our love for words. J, who has had to pacify my paranoia about losing my privacy...especially since I know an embarrrassingly scant amount about the "network", and have exxagerated scenarios in my head about being stalked and/ or maliciously criticiziced,  told me that for sure I must tell you about my blog; so there!

P is getting his own breakfast because I aim to make a rum cake this morning. This is not at all a regular thing. What it is, SS bought a half gallon of Bacardi Gold and a "fifth" of George Dickel Red for a little get together during the holidays. This Expensive Luxury is unprecedented in the 15 years I've known him, but the rum is ostensibly for my cakes, which I sometimes make to sell (now$17). This calls forth Layers of Problems (from me); you see, he agreed to limit his beer to two a day, but I guess he thought I wouldn't notice the highballs, and now the liquor is about gone. Thus, I will make a rum cake, maybe two, depending on how much is left [I need 3/4 cup for each recipe], for nothing else but spite. Also $34 if I find two buyers, so I'd better get crackin'. Tomorrow, I'll try a new cheesecake recipe, "Pumpkin Bourbon", which I meant to bake last Christmas. Hey, did you know this about ovens...that for the temperature to be stable,  it's good to wait another ten or fifteen minutes after the beep, because you lose a good bit of heat when the door is opened to install the food. I have to get it just right because the glaze is tricky and sometimes the cake gets stuck in the pan...remember?  Too bad when SS wakes up to a house fragranced with sweet cake and rum, he can't have any; it would be so fine with Gevalia. Awhh.

Take care. I will keep you in my prayers,
Aileen

resolutions

Like yesterday, today is beautiful..."unseasonably warm". My husband and son are away for the day. On a lazy Sunday, I get some Alone Time...see how the stars have lined up for me to post anew?

I sat down to lunch, hauled out a king's ransom of doggie bags from a party last night with a buffet of  all my favorite ethnic foods. I had only myself to serve, sitting down to such a bounty.

Then, a long chat with my sister who lives in France in which I learned how the French pronounce France.
For some reason, it had not occurred to me that the way we say France wouldn't be how they say it, because of course, they have that distinct way they pronounce R.

So here it is, courtesy of Yahoo! answers: (the internet is wonderful)
Fr-h-awn-se.

Then I thought: how lovely would it be to tear into a fresh Sunday paper and leave it in a disordered pile? So, there I went, on no less than a fine sunny day, windows down, few other cars on the road, with an absolutely delicious, ambition-free task of fetching a paper. And, joy of joys! The first 4 racks were empty, and I  had to drive a course around town, meandering back and forth, with no order or direction beyond the usual traffic practices. No luck, but undettered, I headed for Wal-Mart. Such an unnecessary trip, with a long swath of highway to traverse expertly! Yum!
Ahead of me were 2 guys on motorcycles, one in long cut-offs, with stringless Converses, the other with a mohawk atop his helmet. And I thought: what an absolute egotrip it must be to be a noncoformist. Here I was, dressed [after church] in a schoolgirl's get-up: gray twinset with a box-pleat skirt, knee socks and Mary Janes [at 53 years]! In my defense, it IS my Feeling Fat Outfit for Church on Cold Wintermornings.
 I couldn't find my car right off, so I walked around in a haphazard search [instead of walking the aisles in order] and when I spotted it, I wove in and out around cars to get to it! That was great!
 I have added another new year's resolution to my list: to be less rigid. I'm afraid there's getting to be so many I won't remember them, so I'll just assign my surlplus ones [like making beds first thing every morning] to my husband, since his only New Year's resolution is to be more patient; this is going to work out just fine.

I'm back.

Hey all,
Been working on some technical aspects of computer functions, namely, how to use what's leftover from my colored cartridge after the black one is gone; also, how to send emails to my blog. These are no longer deterrents, so hopefully I can get to work.

Aileen 

reference #1

There is again an issue of identity. I am told that my pseudonyms are vague and my references to "covert" operations cryptic. It will be all over soon, so it is almost a moot point. I admit I get carried away with contrived adventures. You don't even want to know about the voices in my head. But, getting back to my point, I was a little worried about suddenly referring to the "switch" bird (the second one, the good bird), for example "t thoughts" as in turkey thoughts in episode # 3; mrs. t, was, of course the turkey. And then, when I copy actual emails to my children, and there might be some from them, I have given them further aliases, which now bear more clarification.

So, child #1, I will address as L; child #2, J; child #3, H; child #4, P.
Remember that my husband is SS.

Going forward, Mindy is of course the turkey. And everything is above board now, SS actually hoisted the pan with the bird into the oven for me with nary a comment on how long we've had her. Oven preheated to 425 degrees, 35 minutes breast side down, turn down heat to 350 degrees, 40 minutes breast side up, temp at the breast (both sides), looking for 165 degrees, both thighs ideally 170 degrees, maybe 175. Out of the oven, rest for 30 minutes, and carve. Skin should shatter with crispness since she air dried for 3 days. I'm gonna have to quit calling her Mindy and stop saying "her", since this is now supper.

To revisit the names issue, let's just do away with the #s and go with L, J, H, and P., respectively.
This could now serve as a reference piece; just some housekeeping for clarity's sake.

Well, the holidays are winding down, just one more little get-together to lay out a spread for, just some nibbles for grazing, actually. This blog thing came in the midst of of the season's whirlwind, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

Talk is, the vinyl tile in the kitchen was significantly damaged by the leak from the dishwasher. SS wants to change to a linoleum floor, which will include the adjacent dining room. He also wants to take up the cabinets and put flooring underneath. This is an old house and repairs could go on and on. It's looking to be Armageddon.

By the way, he said how about that turkey being good after all this time... it sure didn't have a smell. This man would eat out of my hand.


Until next time, then, and Merry Christmas!
Aileen

email to child #2

Hey J,
Just saw your latest email...thanks for relaying that to me...I do wonder how readers react.

Actually, last night I was in some form of serious self-doubt, mired in eleventh-hour panic mode over the kings' head dresses for the pageant this morning. I called [your brother] L, and probably from the tone of my voice, he could tell I needed something, because he returned my call right away even though he has a sore throat. I asked him right off had he heard anything from his friends about my blog? He was his usual taciturn self but he did throw me some crumbs. Anyway, I just had to get the work done on whatever muster I could call up.  I did not sleep at all. I sewed (by hand) all night. I was finishing up the second piece...and I kept thinking...OK, I'll take a break at 1, lay down for a couple hours, set the alarm for 3, get back to work...maybe just close my eyes for a bit, just to give them a rest...I'll probably work much better...

It then occurred to me that if I quit worrying about getting 15 winks, I would have the greater part of 4 hours before time to get ready for church.

This, I think, is how I get into credit card trouble. You'd have to follow the Make Bigger and Bigger Right Turns Procedure (for going Left without making a left turn), to get this analogy, but since I breastfed you and you learned my skewed logic [and hopefully Swat fixed that] at my elbow, you probably get the gist. Besides the fact that you have Actually gotten me out of Credit Card Hell before.

The thing about "pulling an all-nighter" is, you kinda float in this thick bog of being awake and forging on, while being so tired and sleepy that the part of you that is sensible and knows that you should be asleep is watching the wretched little elf you and seeing that there is actually little progress being made here, because your eyes are not wanting to see anymore, and real time is taking longer. It seemed like I'd been stitching on the same tassel forever and ever. Like when you're high on pot if you know how that is. But I just kept sewing and sewing and got all three done. There were praises all around for our ensemble and particular mention of the kings' hats; maybe there'll be some pictures to send.

So, I'll get right soon enough and see about the old bird. She's kinda grown on me; I call her Mindy.:)

Love,
Mom