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Vance’sMondayNightAcousticPajamaParty#57 SOME OLD, BORROWED, NEW.

A few new tunes I have to learn for events. Some older stuff I’d forgotten about. Maybe a new tune called "We Wave Around Here..."


When: Monday Nite, APRIL 19TH 7:30PM EDT (“doors” open at 7 for community hang) -

WHO GETS 10% South Sudanese Enrichment For Families - Alerted to this group by coaching client Jon Sachs, I’m proud to play the teeniest part in helping connect South Sudanese immigrant folks with opportunities and services in Massachusetts.

$$: or or
a check to VanceFunder P.O. Box 17,
Arlington, MA 02476 for this web-groovery.
Pay or not. Up to you. Let’s stay connected.

This week’s pajamas: dark blue

I teach and coach stuff.

Good Good Man - the CD - streaming all over, even get a CD from me…


“Hey Siri”, I must have said three or four times as I was getting out of bed. Siri say nothing. I get it. I needed that terrifically forced joyous lilt to my voice, nothing the likes of which I own in the morning.
I ask the temperature. Siri tells me, yet says nothing about the 3 inches of snow outside my window 4 days after 70º weather.
It does no good to cuss out your phone. Particularly if the tinfoil hat belief that hackers can see you and all you do from your own devices’ cameras turns out to be for real. Then we’re all done for. I know I am.

(Me) “Hey Siri

She wanted the brush pile in the back removed. I could have done it in a day, yet it would have taken weeks of curbside to have it disposed of. She and the yard are both conservation-based at the core. She was worried that any rabbits nesting in that pile would have babies soon, and be unable to relocate. It needed doing now.

Conservation is not a static activity, particularly in an urban setting. It’s a roiling, ever-changing landscape of give and take. None of us are God, even in our own backyards, our husbandry alternately rewarding and heartbreaking. The irony of the brush pile being haven for the very critters that decimate every bit of the purposely planted indigenous plant life in the yard isn’t lost on her.

So when the guys she hired finally came 2 weeks late and pitchforked through the layers of brush, of course there were 4 baby bunnies. One didn’t survive the pitchfork. The other three were cardboard boxed with my favorite black towel, calls were made, and websites visited. In the next hour we were both very infant bunny informed.

She “re-nested” these 2 week old bunnies as closely as possible to the original nest site, hoping that the mother would come back for their dusk and then dawn feedings. A shallow 5-inch hole, ringed with grasses. A strip of yarn draped over the top, photographed, to mark any disturbance by a returning mother. Photos were taken the next morning of their bellies and sent to a rehab specialist in northern Massachusetts to determine if they had been fed.

Early afternoon she canceled work appointments, and she was in the car to the New Hampshire border in Thursday's rush hour to drop these bunnies off at a rabbit rehab.

The temperature dropped and this snow came and three bunnies were saved from most certain frozen death, Siri, so if you needed to hear my happy voice to activate your answer, here it is. But really, it’s more for her unfathomably big heart."

(Siri) - “How can I help you?"