food poisoning is lame

For once, a trip to The Barbara's house that wasn't made absolutely unbearable by the mere presence of The Barbara. Amazing.

In true Springer style, Drew started out our visit on Friday night by trying to prove to his 73-year-old mother that he could totally drink her under the table, just like last time. Frangelico and Drambuie were the stars of the night, but The Barbara decided she'd let Drew try a taste of Galliano, an expensive Italian herbal liqueur that she'd had in her bar for 40-50 years. OPEN. "Uncle Buddy brought this home from one of his trips to Italy, and we tried a little of it then but I remember it being very strong and I haven't touched it in YEARS. Do you want to try it, Droooo?" (That's the way she says his name. Droooo.)

Drew, ever the manly man, slugged back a few glasses of Galliano that was possibly opened during the JFK presidency, then a few of Frangelico, then a few of Drambuie. I retired (sober, save some Flexeril) to read my book and nurse my aching back, and Drew came in a few minutes later with a full on case of the drunk giggles. He drank a little water and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Saturday involved a lot of sleeping, a lot of shivering, a fever of 102.3, a call to poison control, several trips to the bathroom, several Pepto pills, and a solemn vow to never drink liqueur that was opened before one's own birth.

He feels fine today, except for some cold sweats and a nice case of bubble guts that thankfully withstood the three-hour trip back home from the northshore.

As for me? Well, same old story. Back hurts. The bed we sleep in at The Barbara's is so wildly uncomfortable that I woke up this morning contorted and limping. Between Drew running to the bathroom every 10 minutes and my back being painfully twisted, we weren't stellar parents this weekend.

Ace didn't help. Of course, every piece of furniture in The Barbara's house was lovingly hand crafted by her father in the mesozoic era 1920's, so he can't touch any of it, and he can't stand up without touching furniture. The few pieces of furniture he was allowed to touch had drawers and cabinets in them, all holding things that a 22-month-old should nevereverever touch, including a Polaroid camera from the 1950's. JEEZ. Ace was about 10 times more caustic this weekend, making his parents' misery just so much better. /bitter sarcasm

Heh, at least I had a nice dream about being JUST FRIENDS with Patrick Dempsey last night.