<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xml:lang="en-US"><generator uri="https://jekyllrb.com/" version="4.4.1">Jekyll</generator><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/feed.xml" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" /><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/" rel="alternate" type="text/html" hreflang="en-US" /><updated>2026-07-14T14:59:15-04:00</updated><id>https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/feed.xml</id><title type="html">The Hartwells</title><subtitle>Elena Hartwell&apos;s journal. Started in a UNC dorm in 2007. Still going.</subtitle><author><name>Elena Hartwell</name></author><entry><title type="html">The spreadsheet is romantic, actually</title><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/storyline/2026/07/13/the-spreadsheet-is-romantic-actually.html" rel="alternate" type="text/html" title="The spreadsheet is romantic, actually" /><published>2026-07-13T20:00:00-04:00</published><updated>2026-07-13T20:00:00-04:00</updated><id>https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/storyline/2026/07/13/the-spreadsheet-is-romantic-actually</id><author><name>Elena</name></author><category term="storyline" /><category term="hartwellfam" /><category term="relationshiprealness" /><category term="adulting" /><category term="heritagekeeper" /><category term="summermornings" /><summary type="html"><![CDATA[Last December I built a shared calendar block called ‘Jake Time’ and honestly I was a little embarrassed about it. It felt like the least romantic sentence in the English language. Scheduled. Togetherness. But here we are in July and I keep coming back to it because I think it might be one of the smarter things I’ve done for us.]]></summary><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" /><media:content medium="image" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" /></entry><entry><title type="html">Same rack. Same hand. No notes.</title><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/everyday/2026/07/12/same-rack-same-hand-no-notes.html" rel="alternate" type="text/html" title="Same rack. Same hand. No notes." /><published>2026-07-12T20:00:00-04:00</published><updated>2026-07-12T20:00:00-04:00</updated><id>https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/everyday/2026/07/12/same-rack-same-hand-no-notes</id><author><name>Elena</name></author><category term="everyday" /><category term="hartwellfam" /><category term="kitchenfail" /><category term="nurseknowsbetter" /><category term="summermishap" /><summary type="html"><![CDATA[The oven rack got me again. Not in a dramatic way, nobody’s going to the hospital, I have not lost function in any fingers, and I would like to point out that I am a nurse and I am fine, but in that specific, humiliating way where you know exactly what you did wrong and you did it anyway. I was making toast. I leaned in to check if the bread was golden enough. My knuckle found the rack before my eyes did. It is July. This is the second time since June.]]></summary><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" /><media:content medium="image" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" /></entry><entry><title type="html">The Fan Accord of July 2026</title><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/everyday/2026/07/12/the-fan-accord-of-july-2026.html" rel="alternate" type="text/html" title="The Fan Accord of July 2026" /><published>2026-07-12T20:00:00-04:00</published><updated>2026-07-12T20:00:00-04:00</updated><id>https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/everyday/2026/07/12/the-fan-accord-of-july-2026</id><author><name>Elena</name></author><category term="everyday" /><category term="hartwellfam" /><category term="summerathome" /><category term="apartmentlife" /><category term="toohot" /><summary type="html"><![CDATA[107 degrees outside. One floor fan. Two people with completely incompatible theories about airflow. This is us.]]></summary><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" /><media:content medium="image" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" /></entry><entry><title type="html">The first call was supposed to take fifteen minutes</title><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/storyline/2026/07/12/the-first-call-was-supposed-to-take-fifteen-minutes.html" rel="alternate" type="text/html" title="The first call was supposed to take fifteen minutes" /><published>2026-07-12T20:00:00-04:00</published><updated>2026-07-12T20:00:00-04:00</updated><id>https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/storyline/2026/07/12/the-first-call-was-supposed-to-take-fifteen-minutes</id><author><name>Elena</name></author><category term="storyline" /><category term="hartwellfam" /><category term="heritagekeeper" /><category term="familyarchive" /><category term="communityroots" /><category term="documenteverything" /><summary type="html"><![CDATA[Margaret gave me three names. Three families. A brief note next to each one, a sentence or two about who they were, what kind of materials they had, why she thought we might connect well. I read those notes on Saturday morning with my tea and thought: okay, I can do this. I’ll make some introductory calls this week. Easy.]]></summary><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" /><media:content medium="image" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" /></entry><entry><title type="html">The title caught up to the work</title><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/storyline/2026/07/12/the-title-caught-up-to-the-work.html" rel="alternate" type="text/html" title="The title caught up to the work" /><published>2026-07-12T20:00:00-04:00</published><updated>2026-07-12T20:00:00-04:00</updated><id>https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/storyline/2026/07/12/the-title-caught-up-to-the-work</id><author><name>Elena</name></author><category term="storyline" /><category term="hartwellfam" /><category term="culturaleducation" /><category term="heritagekeeper" /><category term="nursinglife" /><category term="smallwins" /><summary type="html"><![CDATA[The email came through on a Tuesday, which feels right somehow. Not a Monday with all that fresh-start energy. Not a Friday with balloons and noise. Just a Tuesday, the way most things that actually matter seem to arrive, quietly, between other things, while you’re doing something else entirely.]]></summary><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" /><media:content medium="image" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" /></entry><entry><title type="html">The thing about finally meaning it</title><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/storyline/2026/07/11/the-thing-about-finally-meaning-it.html" rel="alternate" type="text/html" title="The thing about finally meaning it" /><published>2026-07-11T20:00:00-04:00</published><updated>2026-07-11T20:00:00-04:00</updated><id>https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/storyline/2026/07/11/the-thing-about-finally-meaning-it</id><author><name>Elena</name></author><category term="storyline" /><category term="morningreflection" /><category term="leadershiplessons" /><category term="nurseswhothink" /><summary type="html"><![CDATA[Three weeks ago I said something difficult to Alex and I meant every word of it. That’s the part that keeps coming back to me. Not the saying — I’ve said hard things before, fumbled through them, apologized immediately after, talked myself into corners. This time I meant it before I opened my mouth, while I was speaking, and after the conversation ended. That is new. That is genuinely, measurably new for me.]]></summary><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" /><media:content medium="image" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" /></entry><entry><title type="html">What the cold broke open</title><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/storyline/2026/07/11/what-the-cold-broke-open.html" rel="alternate" type="text/html" title="What the cold broke open" /><published>2026-07-11T20:00:00-04:00</published><updated>2026-07-11T20:00:00-04:00</updated><id>https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/storyline/2026/07/11/what-the-cold-broke-open</id><author><name>Elena</name></author><category term="storyline" /><category term="apartmentlife" /><category term="sundaymorning" /><category term="quietthoughts" /><category term="homethings" /><summary type="html"><![CDATA[It’s been warm enough now that the radiator situation feels almost like someone else’s problem. Almost. I’ve been sitting at this breakfast bar for forty minutes with the same cup of coffee — Jake’s on a morning shift, the apartment is mine — and I keep circling back to those weeks when the heat just… didn’t work. The calls to the landlord. The space heaters we borrowed. The way we figured it out.]]></summary><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" /><media:content medium="image" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" /></entry><entry><title type="html">Fashionably late was always the plan</title><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/everyday/2026/07/10/fashionably-late-was-always-the-plan.html" rel="alternate" type="text/html" title="Fashionably late was always the plan" /><published>2026-07-10T20:00:00-04:00</published><updated>2026-07-10T20:00:00-04:00</updated><id>https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/everyday/2026/07/10/fashionably-late-was-always-the-plan</id><author><name>Elena</name></author><category term="everyday" /><category term="girlsnight" /><category term="readyornothere" /><category term="summernights" /><category term="predeparturechaos" /><summary type="html"><![CDATA[Michelle Rodriguez showed up at 7:15 when I said 7:30, which meant she had a full fifteen unsupervised minutes to audit my outfit choices. She opened my closet the way someone opens a crime scene. Hands behind her back, head tilted, making a small sound in the back of her throat that I can only describe as professionally disappointed. I had the emerald top out and she said — and I am quoting — “okay but ARE you sure?” Michelle. I am a certified cultural education coordinator. I have given workshops. I am sure.]]></summary><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" /><media:content medium="image" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" /></entry><entry><title type="html">No plan, no problem, no hearing</title><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/everyday/2026/07/10/no-plan-no-problem-no-hearing.html" rel="alternate" type="text/html" title="No plan, no problem, no hearing" /><published>2026-07-10T20:00:00-04:00</published><updated>2026-07-10T20:00:00-04:00</updated><id>https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/everyday/2026/07/10/no-plan-no-problem-no-hearing</id><author><name>Elena</name></author><category term="everyday" /><category term="summervibes" /><category term="festivalszn" /><category term="friendshipgoals" /><category term="july2026" /><summary type="html"><![CDATA[Tuesday. 5:47pm. Alex Chen texted me ‘you free tonight?’ and I made the mistake of saying yes before asking any follow-up questions. Forty minutes later he’s at the door holding two wristbands for the Riverfront Summer Series and I am still in my post-shift clothes, making absolutely zero decisions.]]></summary><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" /><media:content medium="image" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" /></entry><entry><title type="html">He read the recipe. Most of it.</title><link href="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/everyday/2026/07/09/he-read-the-recipe-most-of-it.html" rel="alternate" type="text/html" title="He read the recipe. Most of it." /><published>2026-07-09T20:00:00-04:00</published><updated>2026-07-09T20:00:00-04:00</updated><id>https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/everyday/2026/07/09/he-read-the-recipe-most-of-it</id><author><name>Elena</name></author><category term="everyday" /><category term="kitchendisaster" /><category term="heswasjusttrying" /><category term="apartmentlife" /><category term="summerevenings" /><summary type="html"><![CDATA[The smell hit me before I even turned the corner from the living room. That specific combination of scorched tomato and good intentions. Jake had gotten it into his head — somewhere between last week’s Fourth of July leftovers running out and his day off today — that he was going to attempt Abuela Rosa’s marinara. From the actual notes. The ones I spent three months documenting and cross-referencing.]]></summary><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" /><media:content medium="image" url="https://www.thehartwellfamily.com/assets/images/og-default.png" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" /></entry></feed>