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.

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!