The parents finally left, convinced (I hope) that their baby was in good hands. Even if he is younger than his brother by just a few minutes, Leopoldo will always be her "baby boy" and Latin mothers don't give them up easily. I'll never forget the first night as we were saying our goodbye's and his mom asked Leo where he was going. "With Alexis, of course," he answered. She shot a look at me with those ferocious dark eyes and said, "Oh, yes. The roommate." Ouch. But things warmed up and I convinced Leo to leave me at home for several days as they needed time alone with him.

We gave his mother a surprise birthday party (that is why she's so emotional here). For me the amusing thing about the party was that it was held in the home of Leo's friend, Barry, whom the parents know is a photographer and makes movies around the world. I just don't think they know he works with Kristen Bjorn. All around were very tasteful photographs of nude men and the bookcase was lined with selections such as The Young Male Nude and Robert Mapplethorpe. The bathroom had so many striking poses of the male nude that I always forgot what I went in there for. Poor mom and dad; not only did they get to meet the man their baby boy sleeps with, but were feted in an "R" rated photo gallery. (Good thing they didn't pop in one of the Bjorn tapes.)

One day after walking forever to get to Boston Market of all places (there apparently aren't any in San Francisco and mom likes their chicken), mom pulled a sly one and asked to see where Leopoldo lived. She was more than satisfied when she saw her son "...didn't live in a shoe box". Although there were plenty of tears upon departure, mom and dad must have left relatively secure in the knowledge that Mr. Astor and Mrs. Astor are perfect for each other.

So I've met cousins and now the parents. The only hurdle left: Freddie, The Evil Twin.