Calling all dog lovers!

My family and I need your help! We're looking for a new home for these two cuties. These pups were both rescues and belong to my wonderful momma, but as her Alzheimer's progresses and Charlie and I continue to navigate the role of caregiving for multiple folks, we've all (Mom included) reached the point where we've realized that three dogs is just too much for our already full home. 

This is where you come in! Here's your chance to bring home an older little critter that is loving, well-trained, and fully up to date on all their vaccines.  See below to learn more about each pup.  Feel free to email me (ellie.m.hahn@gmail.com), send me a Facebook message, or leave a comment below if you (or someone you know) is interested in adding both/either of these two to your family. We'd love to find homes for them in the Central KY area, but are even willing to travel throughout the South to get them to you. Our top priority is ensuring they end up with a good family.

Darlin:

This little gal is (mostly) Jack Russell, filled with unending affection and loads of character. She's a people-pup for sure!  She'll follow you to any room in the house and never passes up the opportunity to be petted and fawned on. She's great with kiddos and loves going on walks. Darlin is eight years old and in great health.

Dillon:

This little fella is a quiet and contemplative pup. He's a Boston Terrier-Jack Russell mix, and is a lap dog through-and-through. Dillon will love to curl up with you while you sip on your morning cup o' Joe and read the paper. He's not a big crowd kind of guy, but is deeply loyal and attached to his family. He is nine years old and in great health.

oh happy day!

Happy birthday to my momma, who has taught me what it means to be kind, selfless, generous, tough, and independent. She has instilled so many wonderful things into my life. Two that I've been reflecting on today - a deep love of the outdoors and never-ending wanderlust. My childhood was filled with adventures up mountains and into forests. She took me on a trip out West when my legs were still too short to walk the long hikes, carrying me in a pack and calming me at a campsite, because she wanted to go and wanted me along for the ride. 

Her life's work as a teacher and counselor is my mirror - a beautiful reflection of how to love openly and work hard at something that matters day in and day out. Her constant smile, unending patience, and enduring grace have helped each of us meld our family back together and find our place in our shared home when we returned to Kentucky. She has taught me bravery and courage in the face of veryhard things. And most of all, she teaches me, daily, how to be 'Mom' to Asher. 

I love you, Mom, and am deeply grateful and blessed to be your daughter. 

heard around our home

"Sometimes I feel like I conduct self-therapy by mentally imagining myself having an interview with Terry Gross."  -Ellie

"What about Tarzan?  That movie really featured Phil Collins. Or just -- what about Phil Collins?" - Charlie

And then some new music permeated our upstairs walls, thanks to the good taste of friends...

quinque

This week has been a rarity in that Charlie and I had the house all to ourselves, and so I built up in my mind all this pressure to make each evening the perfect time to be together. I'd envisioned jaunting around the town (??) or going on long, sunset-laden walks that were full of deeply meaningful conversation.

And instead we settled into a week comprised mostly of quiet evenings.  Simple dinners, watching a few short clips on the internet, reading for an hour or so, and then a brief conversation as we drifted off to sleep at night.

The week took me by surprise -- had we forgotten how to just be us?  Why wasn't this week living up to my expectations as one of the last chances we would have just 'Charlie and Ellie' time?

However, tonight as we celebrated our five year anniversary with brinner and a movie, I can't help but collect and treasure all the memories of the past years, and bask in the joy and quiet peace we've found - the refinement we've experienced together and the abounding love that we've cultivated, which allows even the simplest of moments and weeks together to be the most delightful.

The secret of a good old age is simply an honorable pact with solitude. -Gabriel García Márquez (in 100 Years)

nobody asked...

I just saw this post on NPR, which drew me back to the readings and discussion of Le-Chambon-Sur-Lignon during my course on the Holocaust in college.  Reading about this village, about what compelled individuals to make sure a high sacrifice during tumultuous times, was lasting. It was so infused with meaning that I can replay portions of the conversations in my head, reconstruct the make-up of the class, and feel the cloud of quiet contemplation that pervaded the standard academic drone of the room.

Our class (as it goes with any class that covers the Holocaust) was not focused on stories like Le-Chambon, in part because of the general lack of stories like Le-Chambon. There were so few who stood up when the stakes were high, and many who did likely never had an impetus to seek attention or share their story afterward.

But, reading about the interviews and stories of these individuals, and people like Olive, plants deeper questions in all of us.  What is it that leads some to make such simple yet bold choices in the face of grave danger?

I remember, of the people in Le-Chambon, that what was remarkable was that they didn't really see not caring for their Jewish neighbors as an option. The decision was so clear it was made for them.  This seems like a common narrative, reminds me of the tone and perspective of Olive in Rwanda.  It makes me think about how our daily, small choices to structure how we perceive the world can become a framework for the bigger questions, the ones that bind together our existence.

Song of my Spring

I've been playing 'Iscariot' on loop over the past few months.  Tonight, I was struck by how much the song fit with the prolonged winter (and waiting) for Spring, as well as those first few days -- when the cold air is still sharp, but not biting, and you realize the restorative days of Spring are within reach.

This song is my February, March and early April.  It's a reminder of pain, loss, and misperception. But it's also a song of a reckoning that leads to renewal.