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Operation: False Alarm

I know I promised I would publish the rest of our family photos this week unless, of course, something else happened.

Well, something else happened. 

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A Doctor's Worst Nightmare

Y’all may remember last year’s string of hypochondriacal posts like the one where I diagnosed myself with Bleeding Esophageal Varices and the one where I told you about my embarrassing trip to the ER. These are still two of my favorite video posts of all time. Probably because they’re both incredibly melodramatic and also exactly what happens inside my brain when I allow myself to visit WebMD without a chaperone.

It’s like unleashing a monkey inside a banana store.

[With metaphors like that, I can’t believe Katy hasn’t won a Pulitzer yet.]

If only they had a “blogging” category.

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Play Imitating Life

JJ spent the morning “driving Miss Averi” all around their pretend Kansas City in our living room.

“Averi, do you want to go to Union Station and play with Thomas the Train?”

“Yesssss!”

“You do? Well, sorry. It’s closed.”

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This weekend we hosted another round of family here at the Morgan Hostel. I downgraded us from a hotel or motel to a hostel since our visitors have to share a bathroom with two toddlers. And one of them (WHO IS FINALLY POTTY TRAINED, PRAISE THE LORD) doesn’t have very good aim. Also, our guests are forced to eat my questionable cooking . . . which just adds to whole “I may die if I stay here much longer” feeling.

[I think she says stuff like this to frighten away future visitors.]

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We have a winner and a consensus:

Sarah: “Definitely Dangly. Gangly is when your arms and legs are long and awkward – to me anyway…” Shoot me an email at katy@katyinacorner.com to redeem your earrings!

And the consensus is that “gangly earrings” is not a thing. They’re dangly. Google is wrong.

A Confession and a Giveaway

Alrighty, it’s giveaway time. And confession time. Don’t worry dad. It’s just a goofy confession about my changing body that not even my closest friends know about me.

Aaaaaaaaaaand we just lost my dad.

[Please tell me she’s not about to talk about women’s troubles.]

Don’t worry, I’m not talking about women’s troubles. I’m talking about my ears.

[I guess it depends on the woman as to whether or not there’s trouble in that department.]

Oh SNAP! But, seriously, cut it out. This is a friendly place.

[Who is Katy always talking to in the brackets? I’m so confused by this blog sometimes.]

So, my ears. They’re just…different. For one, they just don’t work as well as they used to, according to my husband. Whether or not that is a “selective” phenomenon is still up for debate.

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gardenofweedin

Guyyyyyyyys, WHERE have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!

[Huh? Wait a minute…SHE’S the one who didn’t post anything for a week! So, why is she looking for us?]

I’m confused. Have you been looking for me?

[Why does she keep having these stupid conversations with herself?]

Have y’all seen my medication lately?

Kid-ding.

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ceiling_tiles

If you’re one of my lovely gentleman readers who is squeamish about “female things,” now would be a good time for you to find something a bit less unsettling to read. Like 2,000 pages of ObamaCare legislation.

Take care, and we’ll see you tomorrow. Or after the next election.

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My Favorite Emergency Room Story, Strep Test

There was a HUGE surge in traffic to my blog on Friday (the day I published a video all about my trip to the ER), and I can only assume it’s because so many of you were concerned about my well-being and wanted to make sure I wasn’t still suffering from Bleeding Esophageal Verices (henceforth known as BEV). Especially if you’ve recently been to my house because I heard they’re contagious.

Some poor person out there actually suffering with BEV is hating me right now.

Please don’t hate me. Hate WebMD.

They’re the ones who sent me on this wild goose chase.

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I can’t even begin to count the number of times WebMD has recommended that I visit the emergency room. It probably numbers in the thousands.

I mean, I could count to a couple thousand, but I don’t really have the energy.

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