I’ve been pestered a bit by people asking about the rabbits and when I’m going to post pictures of them. It’s taken a while and a bit of effort, but here you go. Pictures of the rabbits so y’all know who I’ll be talking about the next time one of them does something worth mentioning. We’ll start from oldest to youngest…

Up first is Marble Junior. She’s almost nine, so, like our vet says, she’s playing with the house’s money. Born in our guest bedroom in Kentucky as one of seven siblings to Marble and Pepper (mother and father), when she was very young her sole goal in life seemed to be to destroy every carpet and baseboard she could get her teeth on, ultimately running up about $1,500 in damage at our apartment. Hard to believe she was the runt of the litter and kinda sickly in her first few weeks, for not only has she outlived her mom and dad, but probably every other one of her siblings as well.

Favorite things in life: Naps and Nibble Rings

Most hated thing in life: Trips to the vet.

Next up is She’s-Just-A-Little-Half-Pint, a.k.a., Half Pint. Half Pint came to us three years ago as a 1-year old rabbit from a family who thought a rabbit would be a cute and cuddly playmate for their kids only to soon realize, as cute and lovable as they are, just how much work rabbits can be. Half Pint is what they call a Mini-Lop and has a very sweet disposition. Freed from her neglected, laundry room prison, Half Pint now occupies a two-story condo with a nice view of a lime tree in our east yard.

Favorite thing in life: Being vacuumed (seriously - whenever Tracey vacuums, she uses the little brush attachment to vacuum the beast. And she’s in bunny heaven!)

Most hated thing in life: Nothing. I don’t think Half Pint is capable of hating anything.

Next up is Cosmopolitan, a.k.a. Cosmo. We named him that because of his pink ears which are the color of Tracey’s favorite cocktail. We got him last year as a 1-1.5 year old from the Arizona Humane Society. He’s a gentle beast who simply can’t tolerate being caged during the day, even though his accommodations are top-notch. Once it gets light, he slides open his cahe door and heads for the dining room, where he’ll spend the day under a corner cocktail table until it starts getting dark. Whereupon, he’ll head back to his cage and veg out for the night.

Favorite thing in life: Freedom to go where he pleases, when he pleases.

Most hated thing in life: Peanut (see below)

Last up is “That Little Bitch, Where The #@$! Has She Gone To Now?”, a.k.a., Peanut. Peanut came to us from the wild just a little more than a month ago. In rabbit years, she’s probably 4-6 months old - which means she’s the equivalent of a 2-year old child with ADHD. Everything is new and exciting and must be investigated at all cost! A couple of weeks ago Tracey found her inside our couch. Not underneath. Not behind. Inside. And that was two weeks after she was found inside her dresser. Needless to say, the other rabbits are not impressed with this young up-and-comer. When rabbits are this young you just have to tell yourself that adolescence is not far behind, and if you can make it through the first 12-15 months they kind of settle in to their routine. You just forget how frisky young rabbits can be.

Favorite thing in life: Eating. Chewing. Investigating everything.

Most hated thing in life: Not being able to eat. Or chew. Or investigate everything.

I know it’s summer and the beginning of another work week, but can I take a moment of your time this day to speak of two charities that are close to The Great White Shank’s heart?

STOP! Do NOT click away from this post!! I guarantee it won’t cost you anything (unless, of course, the spirit moves you…)

First of all: Project HARAMBEE helps people in sub-Saharan Africa affected by HIV. There’s a number of ways you can help, but we’ve found the best way to help is to donate a goat or chickens for one of the communities there. How does it work? Check out this lovely letter we got from a co-worker of Tracey’s, who is passionately involved with this wonderful organization. Here’s just a piece of her letter (my boldings). It truly is amazing…

Dear Tracey -
Finally, goat news!

I hope these pictures of your goat are satisfactory (yes, she sent us pictures, and yes, we’re talking bonafide goat here). I can tell you that your compassion and generosity have made a tremendous impact on more than one family in Africa. It’s not only the goat and that wonderful rich milk (and now cheese) that are making a difference. The knowledge that total strangers across the ocean care enough to give them something this precious - sight unseen - has given Kenyans something also equally valuable: hope for their children and grandchildren.

Your goat was donated to Nyumbani Village, where 26 grandmothers and one grandfather are living in community together and raising more than 100 of their grandchildren orphaned by HIV/AIDS. In the photo (she sent us several) some of the grandmothers are busy weaving baskets from sisal and wool, which they sell. Nyumbani Village was the idea of Father Angelo D’Agostino, a Jesuit priest (gotta love those Jesuits!) who served in Africa for many years, and someone I am blessed to have known as a friend.

The website has more information about this wonderful project and the selfless people who have made it their own special ministry. I invite you to check it out.

Another charity near and dear to my heart is the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, dedicated to treating children with cancer. August is the month of the big WEEI / NESN Jimmy Fund Telethon that supports this wonderful place and the service these incredibly compassionate and dedicated people do day in and day out. As you can see by the link, this event is scheduled for August 14 & 15. I’ve supported the telethon for several years - not with a lot of dough-re-mi, but of course every little bit helps.

I know everyone is cutting back with the cost of gas and everything, but if you have a few extra sheckels in your pocketbook, please consider supporting one or both of these wonderful organizations. Even if you can’t donate, please keep them and their fine work in your thoughts and prayers.

…and now back to our regular programming.

Oh, before I go, here’s the goat we donated to Project HARAMBEE. He (she) doesn’t know it, but we named him (her?) Bill Buckner (get it - goat?) :

Aah…the joys of wireless and a high-speed Internet connection (something I pray my parents are discovering for themselves!)….

Blogging backyard and live from the “High Surf Warning Tiki Bar” in Phoenix’s East Valley, it’s The Great White Shank. I just wish we had a camera so Tracey could take a picture. Hard to believe this is the first time I’ve blogged from the Tiki Bar. A cup of steaming joe next to me and mercifully protected by the shade of a thatched roof above, I could be blogging from the most remote part of deepest, darkest Micronesia…. well, except for the neighbors’ houses all around me, the whooshing of airliners on approach above, and the swimming pool vaccuum chattering away happily in the background… but you get the picture. I oughta try working from here one of these days.

It is hot this morning - H-O-T hot. Taking my weekly walk about the property, coffee in hand, I couldn’t believe just how searing the sun felt on the skin - and this was only a little after 9 AM. What little breeze there was stirring the leaves of the whatever-the-heck-you-call them trees (one of these days, I ought to find out the names of all the trees and bushes we have on our property) made no difference. There’s a bit of humidity in the air today, but unfortunately it it now looks as if the moisture from what-was-once Hurricane Dolly is going to stay to the east over New Mexico.

For a Saturday morning, it is really quiet around here. You would think with the houses around us in such close proximity - the house on the other side of the wall in front of me is no more than 80 feet away, and I can see the roofs of eight houses from my Tiki Bar perch - you’d think you’d hear something, anything to make you think you’re not the only human left in this subdivision, but there’s nothing. I’ve always said summer in the Valley of the Sun is just like the dead of winter back home in New England, and it’s true. Only loons go outside in this heat, only stupid loons go outside to blog.

The neighbors next to us who had their house up for sale either took their house of the market or sold it within two weeks’ time. I doubt it’s the latter, but you never know. What’s strange about them (and everyone who lives on our street, for that matter) is that you never see them, just signs of people activity from time to time. Take this week for example: next week is bulk trash week, so two days ago there was some broken white-painted shelving left on my neighbor’s curb. Yesterday, there was an old desk lying atop the shelving. This morning I see some more junk on top of the desk on top of the shelving. Tomorrow I have no doubt this faux monument to human refuse will be further adorned with additional contributions representing the broken, discarded, and unwanted.

This is time of year where the flora and fauna is making its greatest statement on the beauty of Southwestern desert landscape. Our Texas Sage is out big-time this week - their delicate purple and white flowers are covered with bees of all kinds. Most of them are kinda tiny and brown, but every once in a while this gigantic black bee only a tad smaller than a Hummer H2 sounding like a flying lawnmower comes noisily by. He’s big. He’s bad. But he seems to care little about the human presence nearby. Our lantana bushes are bright yellow and orange, but for some reason they never attract bees. There’s also this orange leafy kind of thing that just only a few weeks ago was tiny and scrawny - now it’s gotten four feet tall and so thick that you can no longer see the phony pink flamingos under the real palm trees.

I’ve only been out here for around twenty minutes, and that plane on approach above me is like the twelfth one thus far. And a helicoper just went overhead, followed by a prop plane. The skies are busy thus morning. …and here comes another plane. Aah the joys of living under a Sky Harbor Airport flight path!

I can’t watch the Red Sox when they play the Yankees - it’s just too frustrating for me, especially when the Sox lose like they did last night. But I will say this - that called third strike on Mike Lowell in the 9th inning last night was the worst strike call I have ever seen made by an umpire; whoever that was should really be called on the carpet for that. And J.D. Drew keeping the bat on his shoulder while the Fruitbat poured strike after strike across the plate really got me to swearing. (I had to include a confession of sin to my morning players because of this, but the blame should go squarely on J.D.’s shoulders - just where his bat probably still sits this morning.)

…And everyone knows Manny Ramirez sat out last night’s game not because of his knees but to make a statement to management over his contract. To me this was the last straw - I’m sick of Manny’s act and I can only hope Sox management feels the same. It’s no coincidence that Manny chose this latest aggravation just days before the July 31 trading deadline. I don’t see how the Sox can move him with that contract, but they ought to at least suspend and fine him. There’s simply no excuse him sitting out the biggest game of the year.

Well, I’m off to take a quick warm dip in the pool before errands. Today it’s 1) stop by the pool supply place to have my water checked and hear for the nth time that the pool needs chlorine; 2) a stop by Omaha Steaks to re-stock our freezer; and 3) a trip to Hi’s Silk Flowers to price some phony palms to replace the real flowers I planted in our patio pots back in May but get either too much sun and heat in the afternoon or not enough sun in the morning to thrive. Later on it’ll be Mass and, after supper, perhaps a dip or two in the pool once the day “cools” off. Perhaps by then we might see a thunderstorm - that would be nice.

Today is the Feast of the Parents of the Virgin Mary. Hard to believe July is just about over with - the year is flying by incredibly fast. Where does the time go?

The best thing about having a pool in your backyard with 8 ft. walls all around is the wonderful freedom of going swimming at night (or at any other time, for that matter) without having to wear a bathing suit. Like tonight, for instance - the outside temperature even at 10 PM is still 100 degrees, the sky above is cloud-filled, the water temperature is 94 degrees, and everything is bathed in shadows of gray and brown. There’s a slight breeze from the southeast rustling the palms; tonight they’re the only sound. Well, except for our wind chimes a-tinklein’. Kinda strange that everyone’s A/C units aren’t humming away, but I figure that’s because the clouds came in late this afternoon to temper the blistering July heat. Nevertheless, strange to walk out on the patio at this hour and still feel the heat of the surface on your feet.

A side note: this past wekend the Goodboys played in some of the most oppressive conditions I’ve ever played golf in, but as humid as it was, to me it still didn’t compare to the sheer blazing heat you get in Arizona this time of year. People can talk about “dry heat” all they want, but until you walk out in 107-degree heat in a mid-afternoon with the sun beating down upon your skin you just can’t appreciate what raw desert heat feels like.

But I digress.

So here I am, lollying around in the pool and it’s truly amazing just how quiet the surrounding are. In this subdivision, you can sit on the patio and see at least eight houses; nevertheless, I’m still amazed at just how quiet the nights are around here. I can’t speak for the houses out our back, but I do know that the houses on our sides and front are all occupied, so I doubt it’s like some of the towns to our south and east where builders built entire subdivisions that are now empty except for one or two families that have decided to gut out the housing slump.

But I digress. Again.

Thoughts flit in and out of my mind while I’m floating. Tonight I’m thinking all sorts of crazy things - like how Olivia Newton-John had to have been a huge George Harrison “All Things Must Pass” fan, since she recorded the songs “What Is Life” and If Not For You” (the latter her first big hit) from that album. She gives both a good try, but I have to say, it’s hard to listen to Olivia’s renditions next to George’s originals - quite a difference in substance there, if you know what I mean. Course, she was a