Synchronicity . . .

If you've read The Celestine Prophecy, you are familiar with this term. As we move away from our egos which trap us up in our heads, we begin to notice more and more, that occurrences in our daily lives involve "coincidences" with other people. For example, a feeling may be accompanied by the meeting of a new person in my life; I am meeting this person for a reason, possibly. After all, many of us, more and more, are believing that everything happens for a reason. So, the book explains that we must be aware of the present moment so that we can notice and respond to these feelings. The more we are aware, the more synchronicity will help us in our decision-making.

Synchronicity is the experience of two or more events, that are apparently causally unrelated or unlikely to occur together by chance, that are observed to occur together in a meaningful manner. The concept of synchronicity was first described by Swiss psychologist Carl Gustav Jung in the 1920s.^[1]

I felt prompted to write in my blog about several things that have happened within the passed week that have helped me put life in a better perspective. As many of you know, I recently went through a difficult time because of things that happened in December and January. But they were only difficult for me because I forgot many of the lessons I've learned from spirituality. At Christmas, I lost a job I enjoyed very much; and two days later, I skidded on black ice while driving, and totaled my car. A month later, my replacement car broke down, and I've been without a car since. As these things happened, I immediately labelled them as "bad." These things shouldn't have happened to me, and I felt a strong sense of self-pity. I allowed that to spread to my family and friends. My ego grew in strength, and I gave off negative vibes. I had a sense that I was handling things wrong, so I withdrew and isolated myself from the world.

Individually, those who care about me wanted me to attend a meeting. Each time, I dismissed the idea because I was no longer in the program. To hear what my friends were saying bruised my ego, and the pain kept me in isolation. I dove headfirst into my favorite book, A New Earth, by Ekhart Tolle, and resolved to go it on my own. Tolle teaches that "Nonresistance, nonjudgement, and nonattachment are the three aspects of true freedom and enlightened living." I realize now that nonjudgement not only refers to how I treat others, but it also refers to how I respond to situations that my ego wants me to label as "bad." There is a reason why we like the saying, "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger." Suffering may not be fun, but it certainly does benefit me.

Within the passed week, three things have happened and are still happening that has allowed me to change my view: my dreams have become exceptionally vivid and detailed; a friend of the family's who is visiting us from New York this week has renewed my interest in The Celestine Prophecy; and a friend in distress asked me to take him to a meeting. Coincidences? Definitely not.

The dream:

An election takes place, and the newly elected governor is accused of using a stolen identity to win the race. The stolen identity is that of mine. Suddenly, I am the new governor of the state of Georgia. As I walk into a government building in downtown Atlanta, I realize this is my greatest opportunity to do some much-needed good for the people of this state, and to have an influence on the region in its entirety. But can I do it? Two things convince me that I can: my passion for politics; and something a highly-successful fashion designer once told me when I worked for him in the '90s: "Surround yourself with talented people."

I noticed that the staff and cabinet of the former governor had very little respect for the office, because it had been held by power-hungry republicans who couldn't care less about the lower-class and minorities. I fired most of them, and replaced them with real-life friends who would become my chief of staff (my ex, Jeremy), attorney general (Stacey), and secretary of state (JP). I can't remember the other appointments I made, but I do remember that I hired my friend, Jeffrey, to redecorate my offices because they were hideous!

The Celestine Prophecy claims that dreams have important meaning; so did Freud and others. If you can help me with the meaning of this dream, or maybe just why it is so vivid and clear, I would certainly appreciate it. Should I be forming an exploratory committee??? (LOL!)

Anyway, my new friend, Patricia, is visiting Billy and Margot here in Atlanta, and the other night, I was looking through old DVDs for something that we could all watch. And what did I come across? The Celestine Prophecy! When I first watched the movie version of the book I read over ten years ago, I remember thinking that it fell short of the book, and I was reluctant to suggest it to them. But the four of us had a continuous conversation going about spirituality, so the other night, we watched it. The protagonist is played by one of the actors who is now on Gossip Girl, except he is more youthful and handsome. Coincidence? Maybe that one is. ;-)

Patricia also read The Celestine Prophecy, but far more recently than I did. We bonded over it, and the movie reminded me of all the amazing things that were explained in the book, such as synchronicity. I also realized that James Redfield's teaching are parallel to those of Ekhart Tolle's. I cannot leave out the part of the prophecy that says human consciousness will change during the early years of this new century. And Tolle's A New Earth says that human consciousness MUST change if the human race has any chance of survival. Other respected prophets, such as Edgar Cayce, Nostrodamus, and the Mayans (to name only a few), have also predicted change to come in the years we are living in now. According to the Mayans, the world will experience a change that culminates on December 21, 2012. Devastation and political upheaval are predicted to occur just before the end of the calendar on that date. Japan just suffered one of the worst earthquakes and tsunamis in recorded history, and devastation and political upheaval have occurred throughout the world very recently.

I finally went to a meeting last night for the first time in a year, only because a friend asked me to take him. The details of his identity and issue are bound by the anonymity of the program, but I can describe the feeling I felt during the meeting. Several influential people were at the clubhouse that night, and I felt a sense of inclusion that I hadn't felt for a while. I wanted to be there, even though my intention was not to seek help myself. It was a feeling of goodness that almost moved me to tears. The friend who asked me for help may have, in fact, helped me more than I helped him. Coincidence?

My Life Now

It is now the middle of October, and much has happened in the past few months. I secured my position within the Tyler Perry empire in the second half of August, worked my ass off in September, and Atlanta Gay Pride was this past weekend.

I left off complaining about my previous living situation where two of my three roommates were gossiping about me. I won't rehash; you'll have to read the previous posts. However, I will mention that I recently found out that the owner of the house would periodically ask my good friends, who would visit me at home, if they were sleeping with me. Disgusting!!

Moving on: many of my friends and acquaintances want to know exactly how I got a job with Tyler Perry. The sensitivity surrounding this accomplishment doesn't allow me to divulge much, however, I will tell you what I can.

In mid-August, I quit my previous job as employment consultant in downtown ATL. I was unhappy, uncomfortable, and too inexperienced to continue to find work for welfare moms. It was actually a worthwhile learning experience, and it taught me how to be more aggressive when looking for work for myself. Before I quit, I started sending out my resume to employers, but I remained unemployed for about three weeks. In the meantime, I brokered a couple of successful real estate deals which kept me afloat financially. At the same time, my brother, Bill, moved to Atlanta, and we found an apartment which we moved into over Labor Day Weekend. Toward the end of my unemployment, I started to get desperate. It's a tough job market out there, and I was starting to panic. I found job postings on many of the websites I used at my previous job, but I also looked at Craigslist daily. I noticed a cryptic posting for an office assistant, but there was no company info. I sent my cover letter/resume, and an hour later (at 9pm), I received a phone call from Tyler Perry Studios. I was a little shocked, and when they asked me to come to the studios the next day, I wanted to say, "SERIOUSLY????" The interview was quick; I got the impression they wanted to hire me on the spot. But my future boss said, "go get lunch; I'm going to mull this over. Call me in an hour, but stay in the area."

As I walked into the Greenbriar IHOP, an excited and optimistic energy left my body and touched the people I came in contact with. I couldn't stop smiling. After a brief phone call to my now-boss, I returned to the studios. This meeting was also brief, and I returned home beaming. I told Bill that if my phone rang, all noise within the vicinity must cease. At 8pm, I received the call . . . and I got the job! They liked my education, my modelling and real estate experience, and they felt that I could represent Mr. Perry best out of all the candidates who interviewed.

That was a Friday night, so naturally, I went out all weekend and celebrated with my close friends. That Monday, the long hours, the stress, and the excitement began. The first week was full of lots of travelling around Atlanta and meeting the many people who make his movies and TV shows possible. I visited his homes, the airport he uses, and the places I needed to be acquainted with as part of my new job. In a nutshell, I represent Mr. Perry in day-to-day situations that he is too busy to handle. The exciting part is that wherever I go while working, I'm treated like a rock-star, and by-standers constantly try to figure out who I am. Don't worry; none of this has gone to my head. In fact, I treat people with more respect now. I'm constantly reminded that I am only representing a celebrity, that I am not one myself. Instead, it's a humbling experience, and I'm amazed that these experiences enter my life to teach me a lesson. Everything happens for a reason, and I'm delighted that this is my life now.

Shortly after I started, I cancelled my trip to Southern Decadence, New Orleans for Labor Day Weekend so that I could move in with Bill. We moved to a cheap, slightly cramped 2/2 apartment by Peachtree-DeKalb Airport for the purpose of saving money to get a new car next year. (I also desperately needed to remove myself from the drama of my previous home.) At some point during our new lease, Bill's wife, Margot, and their 2 yr. old, Nicole, will join us in Atlanta. They are temporarily living with my Dad in New York until they move. I'm so excited to be living with family for the first time in 16 years! Especially since I've been single for most of my five years in Atlanta.

But I'm not bitter! I received tons of appreciated attention when I attended the 2010 Atlanta Cotillion on September 18th as Julio Leyva's escort. Yes, I went in a tux, for a change. I was so proud of Julio for the great job he did fundraising all summer. He is a hero in my eyes!

But the fun didn't stop there! Last weekend was Atlanta's Gay Pride festival and parade, and two of my dear friends from Boston spent the weekend here. We had so much fun running around, seeing so many people I hadn't seen since starting my new job, and going to the packed events, that we didn't get to everything. I was supposed to march in the parade with the Cotillion clan, but at the last minute, I had to drive a friend to the airport, and then go to work for a couple of hours. I just keep telling myself that I LOVE MY JOB!

Drinks at Work??

I thought I had landed the perfect job when I started as an account executive with a company in downtown Atlanta at the end of May. My task was to find work for uneducated, inexperienced, single mothers who accepted government assistance. They were required to participate in our program, and Fulton and Dekalb Counties commissioned us to find them minimum wage positions so that they could more quickly move from accepting welfare to being self-sufficient. As I accepted the position that many vied for, I thought to myself,

"My writing is good, and I know how to assemble a resume. My phone etiquette is good, so I can be persuasive when speaking with employers. If a client gives me attitude when I instruct them on how to job search, I can give it right back."

I was convinced that if anyone could do this, I could. This confidence was exactly what I needed to start. My boss liked me, my co-workers liked me, and everyone thought I was going to do quite well. I enjoyed going to work, and the clients were genuinely appreciative when I gave them advice and job leads. The employers were a bit cold to me at first, but I worked on building rapport. I was on the phone looking for jobs, and I was building confidence in my clients. I went to networking events and looked for jobs. I sent my clients out every day to look for jobs with employers I had gotten to know. But there were several things that I neglected to consider.

One was the same thing I didn't think of when I decided to do the Atlanta Cotillion last year. How many contacts can I really call upon after only four short years of living in Atlanta? Could I seriously call upon my friends and ask them if they know of anyone hiring, when half of Atlanta was looking for a job? I persevered, and I succeeded in finding many low wage jobs at restaurants, hotels, in offices, etc. The second thing I didn't think about was, just because I found a job for someone doesn't mean they're going to get hired. Huge gaps in employment, no experience at all, or a serious criminal record hindered my clients, and I began to get discouraged. My persuasive selling techniques were failing, and I was falling short of my quota.

Then something unexpected happened. An account executive who was out on medical leave for many months returned to the company after having beaten cancer. He was an incredibly personable guy, and he was originally from Boston. He had the accent that I thought I hated, but when he spoke, leaving out his r's, I melted a bit. I fell for his charm, and soon we were drinking together.

As I became more and more discouraged with my lack of progress, I began to also experience the insomnia that had developed in my final years of drinking. He encouraged me to drink before bedtime, but I said I couldn't do that. That I didn't want to go down that road. I didn't feel it was appropriate to reveal my alcoholic status to my co-workers, especially since I was beginning to feel as though I wasn't cut out for the job.

I started to call in sick on Monday's after Sunday Funday at Blake's. I felt like a failure. I'd go into work as though I had my head down. I was ashamed.

I looked for a new job, but without finding one, I quit in mid-August. A weight lifted from my shoulders. I was fairly confident that I could find one that was not in employment. I hoped for a real estate job again.

Around the same time, I convinced my brother, Billy, in Connecticut, to move to Atlanta. I knew his IT skills were superior to most in Atlanta. He came down and stayed in my extra room for a couple of weeks. It was so nice to be around family again. I communicated with my roommates about his stay in advance and gave them updates as we spent time together touring his new city.

Unfortunately, a couple of my roommates were more interested, not in my brother's stay, but in a nasty, untrue rumor that, not only was I drinking again, but I was also doing drugs. Drugs were never my thing. My drug of choice, and my downfall, had always been alcohol. I am an alcoholic of an extreme case, however, I am NOT a drug addict. Many times, I had heard in the program that they are one and the same. This is not the case. Alcohol works on the alcoholic over time, convincing him that he can handle more. Drugs take the addict down FAST. But I want to make it very clear that I am not saying one is worse than the other. We are all equal; addicts, alcoholics, and our friends, the normal people. If my life went in a different direction, I could have been a drug addict AND an alcoholic.

The Big Book is the end-all for many. It certainly was my "bible" for over a year. I read it, and re-read it, from cover to cover. But for me, it was my launch-pad. I really knew nothing about true spirituality, so I started reading the books of Ekhart Tolle, my present spiritual guidance. I also ventured into Buddhism and Scientology. In college, I studied medieval philosophy, which is essentially Catholicism, and I had had enough of that. I heard many times in AA meetings, "AA doesn't have the patent on spirituality." But then, why do so many stay within the safe confines of the program? Is thinking too dangerous for us?

Anyway, back to the story. I began to get frantic phone calls from genuinely concerned friends. I say it that way because there is a difference between concern and gossip. I could hear in each of their voices, whether they were wondering if they needed to talk to me, or if they selfishly wanted to verify the dirt they discovered. I parted ways with my roommate, who I used to trust and consider a friend, after I found out that an ex of his entered the house while I was out of town with a key he still had, entered my bedroom, and spread crystal meth across my coffee table. I didn't know what it was and thought nothing of it. I cleaned it up and threw it out, but I still wondered what that stuff was. I didn't bring drama to our house, but my roommate and his trashy boyfriends certainly did.

I end this post on a bitter note, but with a promise to my audience that the good news comes shortly thereafter. If I've kept you interested to this point, please hold on until the next chapter. Just as my last post, I had to get this off my chest.

Pensacola . . . the Untold Story

This summer has been tough, to say the least. And when I say things never turn out the way they're expected to, the passed few months have been no exception. Despite the difficult times in my life which have definitely made me stronger, this summer will be one to remember; one that tested my strength, and one that will never let me forget that I'm only human.

As I wrote in an earlier post, Memorial Day was a hoot. However, probably the most significant event throughout the entire weekend was my relapse, which, of course, I intentionally left out. I was scared, ashamed, but defiant. It happened the night before Memorial Day. I had been in Pensacola for four days at this point, and the next day, we were going to drive home. I was in my car driving through a rainstorm alone, trying to find a place to eat. I was staying with a bunch of friends, some in the program, and some not.

I had been sober for three and a half years.

I drove around for over an hour, not because I couldn't find a place to eat, but because I was trying to talk myself into having a drink. I had earned it, I thought. Not only had I turned my life around, but I had also matured to the 34 year old who had just landed a new job in only seven days. I had been working out for two years, and I had become the person I always wanted to be. I was loved and admired by so many, and I had succeeded in seeing a monumental project through from start to finish: the Atlanta Cotillion. I had money of my own, I was travelling, and I had friends and family I loved.

I realized as I drove that it was midnight, and the partying would only last for a few more hours. I grabbed fast food, and headed to Emerald City alone. All weekend, I was surrounded by beautiful, scantily clad boys. Although I knew many of those from Atlanta, and I was making new friends, I felt totally alone. I arrived at the club, quickly said "Hi" to some people I knew, but I was acting as though I was looking for someone. I was looking for a bar that had no Atlantans around it, so that I could order a drink. The decision was made long before, and my mind was made up. As I ordered my drink, I could barely believe I heard those words leave my mouth. It was done; I took my first sip as if I were drinking some sort of poison. I was scared because I had no idea how it would affect me. Would I be drunk off the first drink? I was slightly panicked. The first one was weak, but my alcoholism kicked in. I needed to find a male bartender in another secluded bar to make me a good drink. I got what I wanted, and then went and danced with my friends. The club was packed, so I spent the rest of the night socializing. After hanging out for a while, I went back to the hotel and went to bed.

I need to get this off my chest, partly because the drinking didn't end here, and I now realize the entire summer may take several posts. Also, a few months after drinking openly and honestly, the rumors began that I was also doing drugs, a myth that hurt my feelings, and I developed a resentment toward the gay recovery community. I consider myself an open book; someone who lives a somewhat private life, but also someone who is honest. As I continued to drink, so did the gossip. And ultimately, I realized, I was headed right back to where I started on 12/04/06, my (former) sobriety date.

"Never regret. If it's good, it's wonderful. If it's bad, it's experience." - Victoria Holt

AC 2010

My Dear Friends,

We are now only 9 Days away from the 2010 Atlanta Cotillion, and I am reaching out to you for a final appeal for donations to help this incredibly worthy cause. The money collected by the debutantes goes directly to AID Atlanta, an organization that helps our own community, by providing life-saving medication for those living with HIV.

My great friend, Julio Leyva, has gone above and beyond this summer by hosting SIX fundraisers, all very successful! Not only has he surpassed my 2009 total, but he has also tapped into the community with his gentle, friendly demeanor. He has reached out to people within the gay community who have never heard of the Cotillion, and all the good it does. His efforts to educate people throughout our diverse city have been nothing short of fearless. I am honored to be escorting him to the Atlanta Cotillion this year.

Despite his successes, he still needs help in these final few days, so please don't wait! Contribute TODAY!!

Please help in one of two ways:

• Visit Julio's Cotillion page and make a donation of ANY amount. All donations are appreciated, especially in these difficult financial times;
• Come with us to the Ball itself on September 18th! I promise you will have the time of your life! Seats at the Ball are $150/person, unless you attend in an evening gown; the price then drops to $75/person.

Follow this link to make a donation or to purchase seats (don't forget to choose Julio as your deb):

http://www.atlantacotillion.com/Page.aspx?pid=402&frsid=17399

Please feel free to contact me should you have any trouble with the Cotillion website, or if you have any questions about Cotillion.

From the bottom of my heart, Thank you!!

--
Kevin L. Malin

Cotillion Class of '09
www.KevinMalin.net

(404) 245-1324 cell
(404) 601-7833 fax

I'm Thrown a Curve-ball . . .

So, I'm going to talk about work for a minute . . . try not to get bored.

Last Monday, my boss told me the very unfortunate news that the on-site agents will experience a base salary pay-cut of a substantial amount. No, I didn't fall to pieces, but I did get scared considering I haven't sold a home recently. The market has shown some growth, but with this news, things were about to get ugly.

I knew what I had to do, but the thought of looking for a new job in this economy was not only daunting, but finding new employment seemed like it would be next-to-impossible. When I thought of the many friends who have been looking for work for the passed several months, I wondered what more I could do to stand out and get noticed.

That night, I started editing my resume, which I hadn't touched in a year. In the passed few years, thanks to quitting drinking, I've become more confident and less afraid to assert my qualifications and interests. It's really the only way to get ahead. Confidence and self-esteem are so important, and although I still have lots of work to do in that department, I thought I composed a fairly good resume and cover letter. On a side-note, if you're applying for jobs at the moment, get someone to convert your resume from a Word document to a PDF file because you never know how a Word doc is going to open on someone else's computer. A good friend gave me that advice.

I started letting close friends know that I was seriously looking for a new job. I gave them a general job description, and mentioned that if they hear of anything to please let me know. Within about a week, I probably applied for about 75 online job postings. I tried to take the time to personalize each one. I spent my nights at home in front of the TV while sending out resumes. In fact, I'm itching to go out and have some fun!

Anyway, I started to receive several phone calls, and many emails. I've noticed that there are lots of job scams out there online. I feel that if an employer can't pick up the phone and call me, there has got to be something shady going on. And I think it's awful that there are people out there praying on the many unemployed, honest people out there.

I received a call on Friday about an account executive position. I called back, and this polite, eloquent gentleman in New York answered and described his company and the position. The new account manager would be responsible for matching job-seekers with their clients, large companies and the government. They were looking for someone with a sales background who tends to also be socially-conscious. The job-seekers are people who may have less-than desirable histories or backgrounds. I know this may sound crazy, but this may be the challenge I've been hoping for! I was phone-interviewed twice yesterday (Monday), and then I met with a New York executive, along with the Atlanta manager this morning. Once my references checked out this afternoon, I was offered the position! It all happened soooooooooo fast!!!

So, here I am, sitting at home, ready to watch American Idol and stuff my face with something fattening. But the out-of-control celebrating won't end there . . . my friends and I are planning to meet at Swinging Richard's tonight for some good, old-fashioned lap-dances. One of the most exciting things about all this is that I will now have weekends off!! Wow! This is kind of how I envisioned things: a good, steady 9-to-5, and the occasional real estate deal on the weekends. The End.

Easter . . . Postponed

This passed weekend was filled with fun, gay things to do in Atlanta: Frank Buda's annual Easter Bonnet Party was attended by many Cotillion friends, and the Armorettes held their annual Easter Drag Races in the Blake's parking lot. I saw some photos taken by Project Q, and it looked like plenty of shirtless boys were out and about enjoying the suddenly summer-like weather we were experiencing after a rough and long winter.

I was stuck at the airport for much of the weekend trying to catch a flight to Westchester, NY, to visit my family for Easter. I missed out on the fun a few miles away in Midtown.

A few months ago, I noticed that the airfare to New York was climbing, and during holiday weekends, the prices usually spike. So, I called on a friend at Air Tran who I competed against in last year's Atlanta Cotillion, and got hold of a buddy-pass. I guess I didn't think Easter weekend would be as busy as it was, so unfortunately for me, flights up and down the East Coast were booked solid. Instead of partying with friends on my first Sunday off this year, I was stuck at the airport, trying to get on any flight to the NYC region or Boston.

It was my own fault. Of course people would be travelling to see their families. I was upset, sad, and depressed. My family was disappointed, and several of my friends were looking forward to spending time with me, including a friend I recently reconnected with thanks to Facebook who I hadn't spoken to since just after high school. I was eagerly looking forward to catching up with him; a few years ago, he came out of the closet.

Rescheduling everything, including a visit to the Late Show with David Letterman, proved to be simple enough. My boss was flexible, and I let my family know I'd come in two weeks instead. But I was still feeling hungry, angry, lonely, & tired (HALT, in recovery terms), so I decided I needed a meeting. I went to the 1:30 pm Tuesday meeting at NABA, and it was exactly what I needed! I hadn't been to a meeting since January (tisk, tisk), and I know from being in the rooms that maybe I was closer to drinking than I realized. This particular meeting "reset" my spirit, and I was feeling grateful to have a family who looks forward to my visits. I also felt very fortunate to have plently of friends here in Atlanta, and in the NYC area. The new-found humility and gratitude I felt was profound. I briefly felt bad for wallowing in my own pity, but if I don't persevere through self-pity, I get down and depressed. I feel like the world owes me something; that the occurrences of the weekend made me a victim, even though nothing catastrophic happened. My disease looks for these excuses to escape into self-pity, and once I do, I want to change the way I feel with alcohol. Wouldn't it be great to get drunk and forget about my responsibilities? Couldn't I just take off somewhere and indulge?

The effects of drinking after three years would be catastrophic, however. Not only would I have a seriously painful hangover, but the disappointment my family, friends, and I would feel would really set things back.

The last few days have brought about a much-needed positive shift in my attitude. After the meeting, I went to the gym and worked out hard. I continue my almost-daily workouts because it frees me of pent-up aggression, and I always feel good about myself afterwards. Not to mention, speedo season is practically upon us!

Last night, I stayed up late to watch The Buddha on PBS. What an amazing and inspiring story! And what perfect timing! I learned about how Buddhists believe that the unhappiness humans often experience are the makings of the ego. Our own minds create the hell we can sometimes live in. It was all very much in accord with Ekhart Tolle's teachings, so I was on the edge of my seat for the program's entirety. I feel a bit more enlightened today. And I loved the way it ended: someone asked the Buddha who he was. His answer: the One who woke up.

This isn't about us . . .

It’s a beautiful day to have the day off, and I’m doing some stuff around the house in preparation for my Easter trip to New York this weekend. I’m listening to Ricky Martin’s greatest hits as a celebratory gesture of his coming out of the closet yesterday. Some of the new songs I haven’t heard, mainly because my Spanish sucks, and he hasn’t done any English songs in a while.

As I was reading the coverage of his announcement, I noticed that many wrote about how this would have been significant had he come out when he was ‘big,’ like back in the ‘90s. Yes, many of us already suspected his true sexual preference, and yes he hasn’t been in the (American) public eye lately, but what we don’t see is that he’s been creating beautiful Spanish music all along.

The fact is this is enormously significant to gay Latinos all over the world. In fact, it’s a HUGE victory for gay people in Ricky’s native Puerto Rico, and for gays all over Latin America, especially since Latinos typically grow up in homophobic homes, with fewer, if any, role models. They look to openly-gay Americans and Europeans for inspiration to come out of the closet in their more hostile family and work environments.

This past November, I went to Puerto Rico to celebrate my birthday with a few close friends. While we were vacationing in San Juan, on another part of the island that same weekend, a gay male teenager was savagely murdered for being gay.

Several years back, I attended my cousin’s wedding in El Salvador, where the minister spoke out against gay marriage during the service. I had gotten married in Massachusetts the year prior, and as I squirmed in my seat, I was deeply offended and personally hurt that the minister would turn my cousin’s wedding into a political statement for his hateful agenda.

Last year, two men were legally married in Argentina, only to be stripped of their legal status when a judge overturned the decision.

Latin America has a long way to go in regard to civil rights, so, you may not be a big Ricky fan like me, but please join me in celebrating his courageous move. Gay Latinos everywhere now have a respectable, talented, clean-cut, handsome role model who will surely inspire others to live openly and honestly. Not to mention, his kids will grow up with a Dad they can admire.

Cotillion!!!

All I have to say is, "WOW!!" The 2009 Atlanta Cotillion was an incredible evening! It's the day after, and I'm on such a high, for so many reasons. As the photos pop up on Facebook, it's hard to really think of anything else in the world right now. The event itself was soooooo much work, but the rewarding feeling of fulfillment will keep me glowing for weeks. The makeup will eventually wash off, but I'm a changed man forever.

The idea of the Cotillion itself is so unique: a drag ball to raise money for a charity close to our hearts. It's such a great way to bring the community together. And now, after almost four years of living in Atlanta, the gay community here is MY community. We all did something GOOD for our fellow man, but at the same time, we had such a fun time!

During this passed week, between work and selling a condo, I was BUSY picking up pantie hose, eyeliner, dresses, wigs, shoes, and everything else to complete my look. On Friday night, my good friend, Jason, who was going to style my wig, called me with some bad news. A tree fell on his house, and he hadn't done the wig yet. I was freaking out, but he assured me that it would be ready for the Ball. I got off the phone with him, picked up my white gown from my friend, Jeffrey, and then went home to shave my body. I don't grown much hair, so it was a quick and easy process.

On the day of the Ball, Julio and I met the other debutantes at noon at the venue for a rehearsal. We had done one earlier in the week where I walked in my brand new heels for the first time. Walking in heels came to me a little easier than I had expected. I kept catastrophizing the future in my head, and I thought I'd fall off the runway at the Ball or something crazy.

At about 2:30, I went to Phoenix's apartment for my makeup. Phoenix is an incredibly talented drag queen who regularly gives show-stopping performances at Blake's, Jungle, and other places in the city. She's also an extremely talented makeup artist, and because this Ball was so important, I wanted the best team helping me. In an hour and a half, Phoenix transformed me into a beautiful, sexy, Latina temptress. My expectations were exceeded, and I started to feel more and more comfortable playing the part of my other persona, Chelsea.

My escort, Julio, and I, returned to the Foundry at Puritan Mill (the venue for the Ball) for rehearsal number three, an hour and a half before guests would arrive. I spent a considerable amount of time after rehearsal in the bathroom trying to tape my boobs properly so they wouldn't move. I also had two sets of jewelry to coordinate with my red-carpet dress, and my white ball gown. Being in drag is hard work! But, people were amazed at how beautiful of a woman I was. I received compliments all night long.

My good friend, Jeffrey, who also was the star of my Cotillion fundraiser, Laughter is the Best Medicine, co-hosted the night with Q100's Bert Weiss. Bert stood on a milk crate behind the podium because he's pretty short, and Jeffrey, all done up in drag, towered above him. As they began presenting the debutantes, I began to get nervous for the first time. My heart started beating faster as I walked up the stairs of the stage, and I saw Julio on the other side, ready to walk out with me.

"Presenting, Miss Chelsea Fitzgerald de Rothchild!"

I walked to Julio on stage, did my curtsy quite well, and then walked the runway. A cheer rose from the crowd as I confidently walked to the end, and then back to Julio, where I curtsied a second time. This was a MUCH bigger deal than the time I walked the runway in a New York fashion show as a Tommy Hilfiger-exclusive in the mid-90s. As I walked down the front steps into the crowd, Julio held my hand to assist me. My knees buckled a bit, but I made it to my table to sit and relax for a minute with Julio, Jay, and Jeromy (the star designer from my Fashion for a Cause Party). Two guys in drag and a guy in a tuxedo who sat at my table, I didn't know. They were incredibly sweet, loving guys who explained that they decided to support my campaign without knowing me because of what I had written as my reason for entering the fundraiser contest. It had been published in David magazine and on the AID Atlanta website. I was floored by this, and I had to keep from shedding any tears as they would have messed up my mascara.

The debs met backstage one last time for the crowning of the Queen, the winner of the fundraiser. I knew I wasn't going to win, and I was totally fine with that. Bert and Jeffrey asked Michael and Alex to step forward as the two top fundraisers, so that they could reveal the winner American Idol-style. Michael was crowned Queen, and he danced with his crown on the runway. I'm so genuinely happy for him!

Our show came to an end - but the night was only beginning. We all felt like beautiful celebrities as we walked into the crowd and greeted people who wanted photos with us. Shortly thereafter, I put my purple dress back on and slid into my sneakers. Julio, Jeremy, and I snuck out and went to my place. We sat down on the couch for about a half hour and watched the making of Janet Jackson's tribute to Michael on the VMAs a week earlier. After our quiet break, we hopped in the car and headed to Jungle, where the official Cotillion after-party was getting underway.

Jungle was packed with all types of gays that night. Hot circuit boys, beautifully coiffed drag queens, twinks, and bears, were everywhere! The promoters sectioned part of the club for the Cotillion attendees, which was where I parked myself whenever my feet throbbed. I sat down next to a dead-ringer for Marilyn Monroe. She was sweet, kind, and drunk; and I was beginning to feel like the only non-drinker there. No matter. I ran into Debbie, the mother of a gay youngster, Ian. She goes out a lot and is a prominent figure in our community. She gasped when she saw me, as many did that night. She loved how I looked, and it was just so wonderful to talk to her. She even said my voice was fitting for my persona, and I wasn't very surprised because my voice is a tad bit gay. It was getting late, and I was getting very tired, so I told Julio I was ready to leave around 1:30 a.m. As we were about to leave, I ran into my good friends, Chris and Carl. As we spoke, a great dance song came on, and I looked toward the stage, and suddenly Phoenix came out and started her performance. Jeremy handed me a $5, and said, "Tip her!" Here she was, the drag queen who made me beautiful, was breathtaking in all her glory. We pushed our way through the crowd to the front of the stage, and I tipped her.

At that moment, I was reminded to be grateful, because I didn't do this. I was surrounded by the most beautiful, loving people who were so willing to help me throughout this entire journey. If I were to thank everyone who helped me, the list would go on and on. So many new friends were made, including my fellow debutantes who I love, love, love! And even my ex-husband, Jeremy, and I became something better than ex's: we now have a great, new friendship! So many blessing have been packed into this one, short summer!

So, at the end of the night, I dropped off a tipsy Julio at his place on the park, and I went home, hoping no one would see me in half-drag, by then. My wig had come loose, and so I pulled it off. I went to bed cuddled up with Pumba & Simba, and tried to sleep with intense emotions swirling 'round in my head. "I did it. I can't believe I did it," I thought as I dosed off.

The Main Event Quickly Approaching

It's been a busy few weeks!! With the help of some exceptional friends and generous community members, we pulled off a successful Cotillion fundraiser at Cowtippers last Wednesday. I want to take a second to thank those who helped with the event, and those who contributed products or services:

Julio Leyva of Helmet

Mo Cowan of Joe's Trivia

Edward Robinson of Gravity Fitness

Cory Camp of Helmet

CJ of Helmet

Alfredo Olvera of Nordstrom

Louis Lindic Photography

Phillip Rafshoon of Outwrite

Jeffrey Blooms Events

and, of course, Steve Tyrell & his staff at Cowtippers

Having the first event has given me a renewed sense of determination and confidence. And with one event under our belts, my committee and I are anticipating a successful, fun, and rewarding fundraiser this Saturday at 7pm at Helmet in East Atlanta. We've brought together some prominent figures in Atlanta's gay community for a very fashionable party that will feature a cutting-edge runway show in which Boy Next Door and local designer extraordinaire, Jeromy Allen Wiborg, will feature their flashy threads.

Farewell, MJ

The passed two weeks have been eventful, to say the least! Let's go back to June 24th. It was a day off from my new job at Luxe (which is going quite well, by-the-way), and I was running around with Mo. We meet up on Wednesdays to discuss and plan Atlanta Cotillion events. So far, we have a trivia night at Cowtippers in the works, a beer bust at Joe's, a house party/fashion show at Herbert's, a comedy night at the Park Tavern featuring Jeffrey Blums, and a joint-debutante party at the Georgian Terrace. So, things are progressing, and I couldn't be doing this without the help of my committee: Mo, Julio, & Jay.

We've suffered several set-backs so far, most-recently when Mixx denied our request to host a party there. Their reasons were that they didn't want an outside DJ, they hated the idea for a drag show, the party couldn't be on a weekend, and a few other reasons. I quickly formed a resentment towards Mixx like a true alcoholic, however, I will let it go and focus on the other venues.

Thursday came, and I was excited to be doing a photo shoot with my good friend, Josh, who is also an amazing professional photographer. I disliked the headshot we did for the Cotillion, and I thought Josh & I could do better. We went to the park for a couple of hours and had a great time! The photos, by the way, came out great, and you can view them on Facebook.

I headed home to change for the gym, and my ex-husband and now good friend, Jeremy, called. I answered, and he immediately asked, "Did Michael Jackson die?"

I was like, "What??"

"Yeah, I think he really died."

I put on CNN and got onto Facebook, and after about an hour, it seemed quite certain that he was gone. I went to the gym, and was almost in tears as I worked out. For the rest of the evening, I received phone calls, text messages, and Facebook notifications from friends around the country asking me if I was okay. Friends I hadn't heard from in years were contacting me and telling me that they thought of me first, when they heard the news.

My younger friends were unphased and somewhat insensitive at times, but it was the people I had gone to school with who were sad and confused by his death. I was about six when Thriller was released, and my two brothers and I bought MJ jackets that looked like the one he wore in Beat It. We played that record over and over for a really long time. I was a huge fan. He was the greatest artist to me when I was a kid. When Dangerous came out, I studied the music and lyrics as if I were to be tested. It's still my favorite album. I watched the world premiers of Black or White and Remember the Time, and they were the greatest videos ever.

I was at Tower Records in Times Square at midnight for the release of HIStory, and I dressed up as Michael my senior year of high school for Halloween. It was so much fun because although people knew it wasn't really him, they screamed with delight anyway! I did it again in college, and I won third place for best costume!

I had forgotten that I admired him as much as I did, until the calls came in on that dark day. I was home in New York this passed weekend to visit my family, and some of my friends brought up the times I had dressed up as MJ.

Today was his memorial service in LA, and I got to watch a little of it at work, and it seemed most of the world was doing the same. It's a terrible loss to the whole world to have lost someone so talented and giving. He gave of himself more than almost anyone. His daughter, Paris, spoke at the end of the service as Janet stood by her side, and even without sound on my computer, I started to cry, because I imagined how awful it must be for the family.

I just want to say that I truly believe that he was a good human being, someone who was terribly misunderstood, and someone who paid a dear price for incredible fame and success. He was a talent we'll never see again, because there will only be one Michael Jackson.

Health & Gaydar in Disrepair!

Just a warning, this might be a long one. Not sure yet!

We last left off at the end of June, just before I got sick. Have you ever had strep throat? If not, DON'T EVER GET IT! And for those of you who have, you know all about the complete Hell I endured for about a week. Not to mention the accompanying depression, which was completely unforseen! Anyway, I was out with Edward & Sparkles at Blake's on Saturday evening before Pride weekend, and I felt as though the headache and body aches I was starting to feel were getting worse. I went home, planning on having some Tylenol, and going back out, but I ended up lying on my sofa, and then going to bed at midnight! Yes, for me, going to bed before midnight rarely happens, especially on a Saturday night! OMG! I slept for seventeen hours, until 5:00 pm the next day, and I felt like a sickness had come over me and had infiltrated every region of my body. My throat was in extreme pain, and eating was next to impossible. Each part of my body ached, and moving around the apartment was a chore. Even though I felt the way I did, I thought it would go away, because I don't really get sick. But on Tuesday, I had to call in sick to the gym, and Jay, my friend & boss, wasn't happy with me. He suggested going to the doctor (which I wouldn't have done, except he mentioned it), so I called my new Atlanta doctor, and I went in that afternoon.

I thought about asking someone to drive me, but I thought I would have a tough time finding someone during the day on a Tuesday, so I told myself that I had to drive, and that everything would be okay. So, I got in my car, said the Serenity Prayer a few times, and drove, like an old man, all the way to the doctor's office. He gave me antibiotics, told me to shovel ibuprofen into myself every few hours (because I also had a high fever), and said I'd be better by the weekend. He's gay, and he knew what weekend it was. ;-)

As I slowly improved, depression set in, and with all the channels cable has to offer, I ran out of TV to watch. Things like laundry, I knew I could do even though I was sick, but I had no motivation to do anything around my apartment. I barely even went online, and there's nothing easier than that. I checked my MySpace probably a couple of times in that whole week. I knew that if I picked up the Big Book or something inspirational to read, I'd feel better. But depression affects me in a way that it controls my thoughts by keeping me from doing the things that will make me feel better, and thus I stay in an unhealthy mental state. I recently bought Congnitive Behavioral Therapy for Dummies because I've looked into it, and it seems to be the next step after recovery material, like the Big Book. It's very similar, and it makes sense to me. And the For Dummies book promises to make me my own therapist. I had plenty of time to read it, but I never opened it that week. Depression doesn't make sense. For those of you who've suffered from it, you know what I mean.

The most important project of the week was totally neglected by me. Atlanta's Gay Pride was only a couple of days away, and I was thinking at this point, that we wasted a lot of money reserving a booth for Abode Realty. I felt bad in every sense of the word. I kind of felt like a failure the terrible way I felt before I stopped drinking. Here I am living in sobriety, and I can't even handle putting together a booth for Pride. To my surprise, Roel, my broker, was working on it! But why? Isn't Roel straight?? Once it wasn't too painful to speak on the phone, I called Roel and learned that he and a gay friend were putting together a booth that would be real estate and these beautiful home decor pieces that Roel sells in one of his other businesses. But isn't he going to be afraid of all the gay people at the Civic Center?? No matter, I met up with him and Regan (gay male friend, hmmm) on Friday evening at the booth where we opened at 6 pm. I was a little drained, but able to eat and walk. I also was no longer contaigious.

It felt so good to be around people! I am a true believer that we all need each other, and although I was still a bit weak, I was so happy and excited to be around everyone. In fact, after we closed at 9 pm, I went out. I had to explain the those I encountered that I was no longer contaigious, and the kiss they just gave me wasn't a death sentence. It was fun, but I stayed for only a short time. The next day, I was back at the booth at the Civic Center, which, by the way, was a weird place for a Gay Pride Festival, because the festival took place in a parking lot. It wasn't half bad, though, because every so often, someone I knew would come say "Hi!"

At some point during the day, Roel & I were sitting together in the booth, and we started talking about personal things. Up to this point, he & I had a strictly professional relationship, as broker and agent. But at the festival, we had plenty of time to chat. I knew he knew I was gay because you'd have to be from Southern Georgia to not know. (For some reason, people from that region of the world can't tell I'm gay.) I'm pretty obviously gay, so I just assume that everyone knows. He asked me if I was dating anyone, and he asked me about passed relationships. I'm an open book when comes to such things, so I spoke openly about being single for a year-and-a-half, and about my failed marriage to my ex-husband, Jeremy. He then told me that he's been seeing his friend, Regan, someone who's been helping out in our office while we didn't have an administrative assistant. I knew Regan was gay, because he's like me; pretty obvious. But Roel is older and Phillipino, and I always assumed that he was straight, so when he told me this, I was like, "Oh My God!"

"What??" Roel asked.

"Oh my god!" I gasped again.

Roel, at this point was thinking I knew Regan on another level. "What's the matter?"

"I feel so silly now because I always thought you were straight!" I said.

"Me?? Oh puhleeeease!!"

Later, I went for a walk around the festival, and when I came back, Regan & Roel were laughing at me. I felt really silly, but I also still thought it was funny, and we all laughed for a while. So, from time-to-time, my gaydar isn't 100%, and that's fine, because I'm not perfect, and things stay interesting.

What's Left of Me?

One thing I dislike more than many things is reading or listening to someone complain, and that is not the point of my blog, so I'm going to tell you about how my employment with Joe's on Juniper came to an end with the least whining possible. I guess it was just a matter of time, as it is in the restaurant industry. Working at Joe's is tough, and since we've enjoyed summertime weather for the passed several weeks, the restaurant has been very busy. When we're busy, it's not any one's intention to take advantage of the servers, but we have to work harder and longer hours. When I returned from New York after Memorial Day Weekend, my schedule at Joe's had drastically changed. I was scheduled to work back-to-back doubles all week, and at first I was upset to the point that I almost quit. I remembered that in recovery, I must live on "life's terms," not my terms, so I didn't share my disgust and accepted my schedule, and worked it. However, I told Mika, our manager who arranges the schedule that I would soon be cutting my hours back to focus more on real estate. The market has recently shown indication that better times are on the way; in fact, I acquired a new listing this passed week. I also told Mika that I would not be at their disposal for Gay Pride Weekend because I would be manning the Abode Realty booth the entire weekend. I worked almost sixty hours that week at Joe's, and did it again this passed week.

Change was on my mind when I decided to email my old sponsor who I stopped calling just after I started working at Joe's in February. If you know a thing or two about recovery, you know that I am supposed to call my sponsor on a regular basis, which I haven't done partially because of my overwhelming schedule. I emailed him to tell him that I'm doing well, and that I just celebrated a year and a half of sobriety on June 4th. He and his girlfriend have been very busy with their newborn baby girl, and I wanted to see how the new family was doing. The next day he called me, and it was so wonderful to hear his voice and to catch up with him. He is one of the biggest reasons why I have stayed sober for eighteen months without relapse, and I owe him a huge debt of gratitude. Fatherhood has been treating him well, and the baby actually sleeps completely through the night! What a blessing!

When I told him about my schedule, and how my AA meetings have become very infrequent, he showed much concern. I told him things were about to change, and my recovery would soon become the top priority it should always be, before work, before boys, before anything.

That night at Joe's, we were understaffed, and it was Crazy Bitch Bingo night, which is drawing quite a crowd, thanks to the antics of our very funny server, Bryen. Long story short, we were slammed and didn't have the support necessary, especially when one of our servers, completely overwhelmed, walked out on an entire section of the inside restaurant and quit. It really was a bit of a nightmare.

So, when I got home last night after 3 a.m., I emailed Mika a resignation letter explaining that I can't keep up with the demanding schedule. I honestly feel bad about it, but I know myself, and I knew I would be useless on only four hours of sleep per night. And I meant it when I wrote in my letter that it was a pleasure to work there. I've gained some really fun friends in the experience, and I will always have a respect and admiration for those in the service industry.

It's late afternoon, and I'm having some coffee. I just got off the phone with a very good friend who also happens to be an alcoholic. I just told him about how Joe's is no more, so plans were made for the 8 p.m. meeting at the Galano Club where we'll watch another friend pick up a chip to symbolize his multiple years without a drink, and then we'll all go out to dinner to celebrate. And who knows, maybe we'll head to WetBar for some after-dinner diet Cokes!

Wow! I suddenly have a life again!

A Tough Choice: Family or Friends?

Today, I'm making my Memorial Day plans, and I have a fairly difficult decision to make. The unofficial beginning of summer used to involve a simple thought process: I'd grab my bike on Friday afternoon, board the Provincetown high-speed catamaran in Boston Harbor, and spend a party weekend in P-Town of drunken debauchery with thousands of other gay men. From what I remember, Memorial Day is a special weekend for the gay community because we can come together in large numbers, enjoy the beautiful weather, forget about work and the recent winter, and have a total blast!

This year, I have two options, both of which I'd like to partake in. The first option is similar to those crazy weekends in Provincetown, without the one social lubricant I used to love way too much. Several of my friends in recovery from substance abuse have invited me to join them for a sun-filled, sober weekend in Pensacola. To an Earth Person (the term alcoholics affectionately call our non-alcoholic friends), this may not sound very inviting. Why would anyone want to spend the weekend with lots of hot, gay men partying on the beach without alcohol? But I have so much more fun now, and this year, I'll actually remember the names of all the hotties I hook up with! Also, my friends in recovery have replaced the many drinking buddies I used to think were good friends. And spending time with them is actually a productive and important ingredient of my recovery. A large home on the beach has already been rented, and a wild, sober weekend is now pre-ordained!

If you've known me for a while, you may know that I'm a New Yorker, and I'm the only member of my family currently living in the South. You also may know that my family should have it's own soap opera. The drama that comprises my family is sometimes overwhelming, and it makes me grateful to be somewhat removed, geographically. I'm not going to get into it, but just thinking about my parents and two brothers raises my level of anxiety to Orange, so I'm going to pour myself a cup of coffee. Hold on a sec. :-)

Option Two involves travelling home for a very special baby shower. Last year in May, my older brother, Bill, eloped with his girlfriend, Margot (who still receives negative resistance from my parents), and since then, the rest of the family found out they got married, and now they're expecting their first child. This is big, because this is the first baby in the family since my little brother was born thirty years ago, and, aside from my 2 & 1/2 year marriage, I will be an uncle for the first time! And, my parents will have a grandchild! I'm so excited! However, the baby is not due until July 17th. So, the question is: How important is it that I am at the baby shower since I may be coming home for the baby's birth? Not to mention, I'm visiting New York for the wedding of a childhood friend Labor Day weekend. All this airfare is getting expensive, so what do I do?

In the past, my decision would be based on what I would enjoy more, but now that I live One Day at a Time, I strive to be a less selfish person. It's now less about me and more about us. At which event would I make more of a contribution? Which group needs me more? My friends or my family? Especially since the term friends is now more about the people I call on a regular basis, people I listen to when life seems a bit bleak, people I see at meetings. Sometimes, this includes the people I see while I'm out and about, but not usually.

Life for me now is about regulating my thoughts, paying attention to the good ones, and not entertaining the bad ones. This means staying out of my own crazy head with my own "problems" by helping other people. I can do this by simply spending time with friends and listening to them, and as a result, my mountains become molehills. But I'm also close to my family, and maybe I need to drop everything and spend time with them during a joyous time. Either way, I need to make this decision by the end of the weekend because planning ahead, I've heard, is part of growing-up, and at some point I need to tell Joe's on Juniper that I won't be in Atlanta for Memorial Day!

Mommy Dearest visits the ATL

It seems I have fallen into the reality TV trap once again. I'm in my living room having a late lunch and checking email/myspace, as I notice that there is another dance competition on Bravo, television for gay men & metrosexuals. It's called Step It Up & Dance, and at first glance it doesn't have enough appeal to retain my attention, which means there aren't any cute men in it. But I've made my judgement too quickly: there are some hotties in it, and although, it follows other shows exactly (a dancer is eliminated after each challenge), it's a good show. I've always been a fan of good choreography, and I love nothing more than amazing dancing. So, I'll refill my coffee cup and watch a couple of hours of episodes.

Today, my brain is catching up with the rest of my being as I relax on my first day off this week. Joe's has kept me very busy with tables full of partying gay boys and friendly trivia players. I was even secret-shopped on Friday, and although I only got a B+, Alice is happy because I'm a new server. Abode Realty has kept me almost as busy as I take on the challenge of my first short sale. This is a technique of saving a homeowner from foreclosure by negotiating with the bank to relieve the homeowner of the mortgage obligation. We're working in teams at the office and the team who completes a short sale first receives domestic airfare. What an incentive! I may not be on reality TV, but I'm a hell of a negotiator. I'm all about some healthy competition, so bring it on!

I have to talk a bit about my Mother because she's incredibly silly. This passed weekend, Mother came to visit Atlanta for the first time. My little brother, Seamus, lived in Atlanta several years ago, and Mother never visited. I've now been a resident of the ATL for over two years, and finally, she's come to visit. Normally, Mother would use a stale excuse to not visit. She's currently working in Palm Beach, so she flew up from there. She no longer has a cell phone and calling her at work is prohibited(according to her), so making plans for her visit was next to impossible. In addition, I wasn't aware of her plans until after the cut-off for making requests at Joe's; so altering my schedule was not going to be easy. Her initial plan was to fly in, take MARTA to Lindbergh, which is adjacent to my complex, and wait for me to get home from work. Crazy, right? Especially in crime-ridden Atlanta. I lucked out, though. My wonderful bosses at Joe's gave me the night off due to inclement weather and Mother's visit. So, I left Joe's and headed for Hartsfield-Jackson. I was excited to see Mother and show her around my new city. I was also very thankful that she was not going to have to find her way in an unknown place on her own, and in the rain. As I waiting in the receiving area of the terminal, I kept thinking that I had to pay close attention to the short people since Mother only stands at four feet, eleven inches (I'm over a foot taller than she). What if I miss her and she gets on MARTA? I started having scary thoughts and decided not to entertain them. Almost an hour after the flat-screens showed her flight as arrived, Mother emerged from the crowd, clutching to her bag and looking a little lost. I felt a twinge of pity, but then reminded myself that even at sixty-three, she is a resilient woman, having dealt with so much in her lifetime. We were both so happy to see each other, and I could now feel relieved that she would be coming home with me.

Mother got into my Isuzu Rodeo, which she had never seen, and was very pleased with my choice. I'm always excited to act as tour guide, so as we drove up to Midtown, I pointed out landmarks and buildings, including the Abode billboard I'm pictured in on Piedmont Ave. We decided to have dinner, so we went to Cowtippers'. It began to rain as we pulled in, so as we waited for the patio diners to be seated inside, I showed Mother my business card display in the restaurant's entryway. We had a tasty steak dinner, and then went to my home. The last time Mother saw my feline children, Pumba & Simba, was when Jeremy, my ex-husband, and I stopped in New York during our move from Boston to Atlanta in October of 2005. I was so happy to see the three of them reunited. I watched Mother sit on the floor and play with her grand cats. We resolved to buy them some toys tomorrow.

Mother let me sleep in the next day because she thinks I work a lot. Although I had that Saturday off, I still felt guilty about sleeping late. I was raised Catholic and am now in Recovery, but I still battle with guilt issues from time to time. We had "Blunch" at Joe's where Mother met some of my co-workers, and then went shopping. I allowed my refrigerator to empty as the days lead up to Mother's arrival because she enjoys taking me grocery shopping. It must be a maternal thing. As we shopped at Ansley Mall, I showed her Abode Realty. The foreclosures on our window excited her, and she actually considered moving to Atlanta from New York. Personally, I think my parents would enjoy living in Atlanta, and I encourage them to think about it, now that they're both senior citizens.

The Galano Club, the gay recovery center where I go to AA meetings was holding a fundraiser on Saturday night complete with drag kings & queens along with risque commentary. We decided to go, and Mother was so happy to experience a bit of my Recovery life. She wanted to donate all sorts of money, and I had to restrain her a bit because she can be quite a spendthrift. I introduced her to other recovering alcoholics and even some addicts, all wonderful people who have become friends of mine. Rand, a good friend of mine with over ten years of sobriety, greeted us upon arrival. My friend, Chris, gave a fun performance as he competed for Miss Pink Cloud. He has become one of my best Atlanta friends. My friend, Chandler, who is also poised to receive his nine-month green chip, performed DJ duties while clad in sexy leather attire. Afterwards, we stopped at Burkhart's to hang out with my friend, Frank for a few minutes. We went home and turned in after an exciting day.

We spent Sunday at my home eating and lounging about. In the evening, I worked at Joe's, and Mother watched old movies.

On Monday, we both slept in, and had to make a mad dash to the airport. It turned out to be a wonderful weekend that we both enjoyed. I'm happy Mother left with a good taste of Atlanta. Maybe her next visit to my home won't be in another four years! And this weekend was drama-free; how refreshing!