Dear Dr. Bethie: Better living through techonology

So I've been sitting on this one for a while. It just seems so... inflammatory, as it were. But since months later it still makes me chuckle, I will risk public internet wrath to present you with another installment of "Dear Dr. Bethie."

Dear Dr. Bethie,
I think I have Behcet's* syndrome. What can you do about this?
Sincerely,
Yuppie and loving it in Utah

Dear YLU,
I'm pretty sure I'll regret this, but I'm gonna do it anyway... Why do you think you have Behcet's?
Sincerely,
Dr. B

Bethie,
I thought I'd go ahead and drop the whole "Dr." business and use a too-chummy tone to make you uncomfortable. It's my duty as an over-privileged WASP from the Hamptons. Anyhoo, I decided I have Behcet's while I was surfing the web on my iPhone while back-packing in Utah. I once had an ulcer in my mouth, and I'm so photosensitive.
Ciao,
Yups

Dear Ms. YLU,
There are lots of reasons to have oral ulcers. Like mouth herpes. Or biting your cheek. And turning red after spending all day on your yacht in Cape Cod is called getting a sunburn.
Cordially,
DOCTOR B.

Bethie dearest,
But how do you know it isn't Behcet's? The lupus test came back negative, so this really seems the most likely thing to me based on my extensive research.
Besitos,
Yups

Dear Ms. YLU,
Siiiiiiggggghhhh. You rrrreally have to be careful about how you interpret information on the internet. And the ANA is still not a lupus test.
If I'm lucky you'll get huffy and find another doctor,
Dr. B

(Silence)

Score one for Dr. Bethie!


*say bay-shets

The one where she caught me

So today is gonna be another kid post. Nothing particularly entertaining has happened at work. Well, not anything that is appropriate for publication on the internet at least. So a kid story it is.

Our church offers Friday night childcare once a month - Kid Parent Night Out. It's great - Nick and I love going somewhere by ourselves, and E thinks it's totally awesome to stay up late playing and watching a movie at church school. Nick and I were out for a recent KPNO and decided to pick up dessert from The Chocolate Bar (Uncle Darryl's, anyone?) to eat at home. So we stopped by the church to pick up the kids and got them all loaded and buckled and whatnot. I climbed into the front seat and picked up the cake container for safe-keeping on my lap during the ride home.

E: Mommy, what is that?
Me: Um, nothing. [quickly moves take-out container out of her field of vision]
E: No, Mommy! What is that?!
Me: I said it's nothing.
E: Mommy! Is that chocolate cake?
Me: What?! How did you know that?
E: Mommy, that's chocolate cake! That's the chocolate cake box! Can I have some?
Me: Oh, you're good. Tell you what. Since you caught me, you can have some when we get home.

She was very proud of herself. But I do have to admit that I'm a little proud of her, too.