# 161 Its runs in the family...

One of my favorite things in life is when my mom, Sweet Deb, takes medicine. Pretty much any type of medicine. When she's "under the influence", she is hilarious. Can barely form sentences or never makes any sense. Whenever she has to go to the dentist, I make sure to call her to check up on her several times. Partly because I care and partly because I want to laugh at her. With her. Whichever.

This weekend I got a taste of my own medicine. Quite literally. I've been having some back problems, mostly minor, for a week or so, but Thursday things took a turn for the worst, and this old grandma headed to the doctor first thing Friday morning. Seems I've got a pulled muscle spasm or something or other. Basically, my back hurts and the doctor gave me some pain meds. It didn't help that I basically didn't sleep at all Thursday night.

I went on to Pickwick Lake with some friends and tried to have a good time. I did have a good time. Just not as good a time as they had with me. Laughing at me. Pointing at me. Taking pictures of me passed out on the boat in the middle of the day. To their credit, they did make sure I had sunscreen on me and put a towel over me as a blanket (actually, this was mostly David-- I'm pretty sure my other friends were too busy laughing at me). Unfortunately, after they did those things, then they took obnoxious pictures of me with their hands on my face and my mouth open, drooling. I didn't see the pictures till today and I promise, you will never see those pictures on this blog! I looked like Bernie on vacation.

The whole weekend was lots of fun but it all seemed to go by very quickly and I don't really remember much of Saturday evening or Sunday. That was when the cortizone shot wore off and I took more of my muscle relaxers to compensate. I didn't get to go see the Rose family or Dr. Adam in Muscle Shoals like I'd planned, but I felt it was a lot safer for me to stay off the road as much as possible. I've refrained from taking medicine today since I was driving and I'm about to hit the pill bottles and head to bed. Its not even 7 p.m.!

I'm home now and I'm braving muscle spasms to bring you this blog. Here's the main lesson you should get out of this story-- don't mix pills and fingernail polish. Or you get this:

I only vaguely remember painting my nails one night. I'm pretty sure this was Katherine's idea. She's sneaky like that. At least they are sorta funky and patriotic!