Undisclosed Season 2

Like so many, I was addicted to the Serial podcast and to the first season of Undisclosed as Sarah Koenig and then Rabia Chaudry told the story of Adnan Syed’s conviction for the 1999 murder of Hae Min Lee.

I’m still devouring every update on the case and can’t wait to read Rabia’s book, ‘Adnan’s Story’ or maybe I’ll download it on Audible and enjoy having  Rabia read it to me.

Season 2 of the Undisclosed Podcast went live on July 11th 2016 and I managed to hold off on listening until last week, with summer behind me and the kids all safely away to school – so they can’t interrupt my podcast listening enjoyment – I popped in my earbuds and took the dog on long, long walks to binge listen.

This second season of Undisclosed deals with the death of Isaac Dawkins, who was shot in the head apparently while driving home from college one evening, and the conviction of Joey Watkins, for his murder.

I’m still 1.5 episodes behind, but I can’t wait and need an outlet for the many thoughts about this story, so I thought I’d put them on my blog and see if anyone else out there has the same ideas.

  1. Does everyone in a small town just date everyone else, including their ex’s siblings? The web of exactly who is linked to whom and in what way is pretty tough to keep straight in those opening episodes!
  2. Brianne sounds like the kind of girl that just loves to be involved in the drama, and if there’s none really going on she’s happy to start some. Her favourite pastime seemed to be stirring up trouble between her ex and current boyfriends.
  3. I didn’t believe the someone-shot-at-Brianne-and-Isaac-at-Brianne’s-house story at ALL until episode 7 when the details of the other roadside shootings were mentioned – now I’m wondering if there’s more “random shots fired at people” stories out there for around the same area and time period that have never been collected. The gang initiation sounds like a possible motive, what if there were multiple potential new gang members all given the instruction to shoot someone who is driving a car, maybe specifically a white truck, and these gang wannabees all head out to what they believe is a good location to achieve this goal and that why there were multiple incidents of trucks being shot at, but not all on the exact same stretch of road?
  4. I believe the statements made by the tow-truck driver regarding the position of the truck, the timing of the police presence, the state of the window etc. I think since he is the one tasked with moving the truck and cleaning up any accident related debris, he would be accurate with his account of the accident site (I’m saying accident because initially thats what they believed it to be and therefor the tow-truck driver was doing his job as it would relate to a car accident.)
  5. I don’t think the photographer who was contracted by the police department was ever at the crime scene. I think this was an oversight on the part of the police, someone was supposed to contact him and they didn’t or there was a miscommunication. The photographer was not there and it wouldn’t have mattered too much had it just been a traffic accident as initially thought, but when it turned out to be a crime scene and a possible murder then it became a bigger issue and rather than get their fingers rapped for the mistake, one or more of the police officers involved told the lie that the photographer was there – the photographer himself doesn’t remember being there right? but its a small town, they all know each other and he usually was called for all the crime photos so he kind of assumes he must have been and its just as puzzling to him that he cant find the damn photos, or he’s part of the lie and at this point you can’t come clean with the truth so the lie continues, and he continues to search for all those hundreds of photos that don’t actually exist.

Okay. This has gotten way long. And I have those last couple episodes to listen to to get up to date. Anyone out there who is also living with their ear glued to this podcast and has some thoughts to share, please feel free!


Go-gurt rant

The kids and I have been on summer break for so long that I have officially lost my mind. Things that would usually not even be on my radar are suddenly very important because there’s too many kids in the house for too many days.

It has come to my attention that Yoplait have teamed up with Disney Pixar and are now advertising ‘Finding Dory’ on the go-gurt packaging.

It’s cute, it’s colorful, it catches the eye of small children who then must beg and plead because they NEED to have the go-gurt with the picture of Dory.

I’m cool with that. If you’re gonna eat weird sugary yogurt from a plastic bag, why not get the one advertising the big summer movie?

We buy the go-gurt. My kid is happy.

We take the go-gurt home. My kid is happy.

I tell her she can eat a go-gurt while I’m making her lunch. My kid is happy.

There’s a joke on the go-gurt wrapper. My kid is happy.

My kid reads the joke aloud. My kid is happy.

I think up two stupid answers to the joke which are bound to be completely wrong. My kid is happy.

My kid excitedly looks for the real answer to the joke. It’s not where she thought it would be. My kid spends more time looking for the punchline to the joke than it took to go to the store, put the go-gurt in the cart, pay for the go-gurt, drive home, load the go-gurt into the fridge, decide to get one back out to eat immediately, cut open the wrapper  and eat the go-gurt.

There is no answer to the joke.

I look at the box. I look at a handful of the other go-gurts. I cut open the wrapper and completely wash it clean, searching for the punchline. There is no answer to the joke.

My kid is not happy.

I’m going to have to assume that the answer to the question “why did the diver bring a telescope underwater?” is “to find the answer to this bloody joke.”

Rock to the left of me, hard place to the right.

I recently reconnected with an old friend, someone I met through a moms group when I was very new at the mom thing. I met lots of people with same age kids back then, some of them I liked a lot – this lady was one firmly in that category. 

But I had issues with the mom group (I’ll just say clique and leave it at that) and it felt like freedom to walk away, unfortunately I didn’t manage to keep in touch with many of the friends I had made there – it was pre-Facebook.

I haven’t spoken with this friend in more than ten years, but through a mutual friend we got back in touch and I discovered that this friend has an amazing life story (from before I met her) which she has recently written a book about. I found her on Facebook and we messaged and as a supportive friend, I bought her book.

I have been reading the book.

I have not been enjoying the book.

As a supportive friend I would love to give a great review and help promote my friend – but I can’t. I know I’m going to have to give feedback, she knows I bought the book, no doubt she will ask my thoughts when we chat again. 

Hello rock, hello hard place, let me try to get comfortable.

It’s Really Spring!

Anyone who has ever spent time in Texas in what is traditionally known as Spring, will know that we don’t always get real spring weather.

While our winters are usually scoffed at by those states/countries who freeze their butts off for weeks/months on end, we do have a cold season and have been known to see our thermometers drop below zero on occasion. Texans either scamble to find hats and gloves or bask in the glorious opportunity to wear cozy sweaters and scarfs for an entire day without breaking out in a sweat. But we also whine about icy roads because our state can’t cope (we don’t grit our roads), we don’t have actual winter coats, and we’re not used to the pain of defrosting ears and noses – what horror is this, the very air attacks my face!
But as soon as the winter weather eases off we play the enjoy-the-outdoors-as-much-as-possible game because we know we’re about to wake up one morning to full on Texas Summer, despite the calendar clearly stating that it’s supposed to be spring.

Summer can start as early as March. No I’m not exaggerating. The sun remembers Texas exists and tries to kill it. Kill it dead. Burn baby burn.

But every so often, we get to enjoy spring, and it’s lovely. It rains, things grow, and stepping outside we discover that “fresh air” is a real thing.

I can leave my windows open and my house does not become an oven!

I can take my dog to run about outside after lunch without requiring a cool bath and an IV!

The kids can play outside, even AFTER school! We can bike or go to the park!

I can actually pause as I  walk to the car, and chat with my friend for more than 48 seconds without needing to wipe the sweat from my eyes!

I love spring! Spring is good!

Oh wait, I forgot about my allergies.

Trusting people with your hair.

When I was very small I had short hair because my mum was in charge of these decisions and she liked short hair.

When I was a little bigger than very small, I wanted my hair long enough “to put in bunches” which is Scottish for pigtails. My mum let me have just-barely-long-enough hair for about a month, and then she insisted I get my haircut again.

My hair was always so short and in such a non-descript style, I bore a striking resemblance to a little boy. And so occasionally I would run around after my older brother, and we both pretended I was his little brother.

I hated getting my hair cut. Because I never had any say in the outcome.

One day I decided to choose my own hairstyle, my mum and her/our hairdresser tried to talk me out of it. It was supposed to be a spiral perm – all the rage in the late 80’s I swear!  I ended up with a DISASTROUS  puffy, old lady perm, and I wore a hat for the next three weeks until my mum took me back and the hairdresser cut as much off as she could. I actually LOVED the fix haircut, except that my ears stuck out.

As an older teenager, I decided to assert my authority over my own hair. When my hair was deemed due for a cut, I refused to go.  My mum persevered for a while, but if I wasn’t willing to walk to the hairdressers with her there was no way she could make me, and so I didn’t have to get my haircut.

For a few years I had scruffy I-have-no-idea-what-to-do-with-this hair – it’s a great look for a teen girl, perfect for making friends and winning the hearts of boys. My patent-still-pending “just gel the sides” look was fabulous.

My fringe (Scottish for bangs) hung down over one eye, great for hiding from mean stares not so great for reading anything further away that the end of my own nose. My aunt told me later that every time she saw me she wanted to reach out and snip that hair curtain right off.

By the time I was 16 I had uniform long straight hair, and that’s pretty much the way it has stayed. It’s gotten progressively shorter over the years, my kid likes to tell me I looked like a hippy in her baby pics, now it’s never longer than just past my shoulders. I trim it myself. I’ve even learned how to put in layers.

As an adult I have gotten my hair trimmed at a salon exactly one time. I thought I had grown up enough to enjoy the experience and want someone else to do something to my hair. I was wrong. When it comes to my hair, I trust no one.

My daughter (the one who said I looked like a hippy) is a different story. She has excellent hair, thick and luxurious and a beautiful shade of auburn with highlights that bring back memories of her strawberry blonde days. I have always let her decide what she would like to do with her hair, because it’s on HER head, not mine.

She’s had quite a few different styles in her relatively short lifetime – she regretted the decision to get bangs, but you live and you learn.

She saved up her babysitting money and paid a fancy salon to make her hair bright pink.

She got tired of the pink. And the hair. And she cut it all off.

She’s so confident with her hair that she let her friend cut it for her. Her friend did a pretty good job, so she asked the same friend to cut her hair a few more times.

This week my daughter decided her hair needed to be cut again and she’d like to pay her friend for her time and effort – a very cool and mature attitude of which I approved.

When I picked my kid up from her friends house, with her shiny new haircut though – she wasn’t smiley and happy. Uhoh.

She did not like the cut. It wasn’t a bad cut, her friend did a really good job on the back (super short) but the front was longer and puffed out too much (Dora the Explorer having a bad hair day) and it didn’t resemble the hairstyle in the inspiration pic.

How were we going to fix this?

The solution was to go back to someone we had previously trusted with her hair – the kid hair salon we’d been frequenting since my kid had enough hair to require a cut. They didn’t let us down. They fixed the messed up cut. It’s good to know who you can trust with your hair.


I started running (in very small amounts) around the trail near my house. Then I got a dog and walking with her was way easier than jogging with her, so I got lazy and walked more than I ran.

I got a free yoga app and some Zumba DVDs (because I foung them on sale 40%off) to up my exercise levels, but I’m slightly lazy and I lack motivation, so I didn’t stick to it very well.

New year, new me ya-da ya-da or possibly just the realization that the excerpted stamina I had previously acquired is now gone and I’m not getting any younger – I decided to research gyms in my area with a view to joining and going to classes to work out every week.

I made some calls, gathered some membership fee and monthly dues info and holy shit $$$$ – that right there is motivation for me to get off my butt and back to the trail, my mountain bike, my Zumba DVD’s!! 

New look for a new year.

Not me, my unchanging appearance is the secret to my immortality.*

My blog has a new look! It has more blue, and things are rearranged a little bit. Like a fresh coat of paint on an old gate, it’s still the same but it looks more appealing… erm, wait. My blog is not unappealing, it’s nice I promise… and old gates actually look more interesting than newly painted ones, where was I going with this?

I have LOTS of things I want to blog about, but I must parcel it out. Patience dear reader.


*oh how I wish that were true.