Miss Whistle embarrasses herself. Again.

You see -- look at my uneven nature; one day I blog all day, the next it's barren land.

Most of the day was spent at Children's Hospital with Minks and her broken thumb, and mostly with me feeling very guilty for telling not to whimper yesterday, when today's x-ray confirmed that it is, in fact, broken. The divine Dr David Skaggs, who wasn't seeing patients today, agreed to see her (imagine how embarrassing to have the emergency of a broken thumb when his wards are full of children without limbs and with life-threatening disorders; I have to tell you, one does feel one hell of an over-priviliged Westsider when you're walking through Children's Hospital). Yes, Little was hurting, and braved it through Ned's birthday dinner last night without so much as a squeak, but you do feel enormously lucky and blessed, walking through those halls. I love Dr Skaggs, although he did think me a swinging single for the first year I knew him because whenever we met at dinner parties I was always husbandless. "Thank you so much for coming to see us" I gushed. "It is you who have come to see me" he retorted, thus making me blush even more. I wish I wasn't completely lame in these situations. Later, Minks says "Why do you always go red when you talk to Dr Skaggs and Coach Russo, Mamma?" (Coach Russo is another matter. He's dark-haired, English and smiley and stands by the school gate with his clipboard in the mornings when we miss the bus and I have to drive her to school. I always put on large sunglasses and beam at him as seductively as possible with a "Oh sorry, it's us again, black marks all round!" He's what my friend June calls 'a bit of ruff'. "Oh my God, Mamma, you're like totally red!" says Minks as we drive through the gates.)

Speaking of hot, it's a hellishly hot day. 95 in Burbank. "Into the three digits tomorrow" according to KPCC.

Minks is now lying on the sofa, her perma-cast arm (with the rip-away velcro for riding convenience) slung over the back of it while alternately watch Tyra and reading her Twilight series. She's like Darrell from Malory Towers, up till midnight with a torch under her duvet for these books. Craziness (from a child that heretofore had very little interest in reading for pleasure). Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, etc by Stephanie Meyer.