FLAT MARTINI – His first trip!

It’s like Christmas morning in my world today. Not because a large, bearded man snuck into my house and left crap that makes a lot of noise and requires batteries we never actually have. But because…

FLAT MARTINI is here! And he’s back from his first trip. I’m guessing the little guy is napping right now from his crazy adventure.

Alyson gets a special hats-off for being the first. She didn’t even have time to get Flat Martini in the mail because she wanted to take him on her island vacation so she printed him out herself, gave him a trim & took him on his very first trip. What a trooper!

So without further ado, I’ll pass it off to Alyson Herzig. She’s the blogger and writer behind the utterly hilarious blog called The Shitastrophy.

alyson martini

If you have had a child in school in the last two decades you have probably met Flat Stanley. Stanley is a boy who travels around to near and far locales. His adventures are documented with the help of your lovely little protégé. If you want to witness parents going deep-six on their seven year olds homework this is the pinnacle of helicopter parenting.

The time has come to kick the overdone Stanley to the curb for a new and improved adult version – Flat Martini. I am honored to be the first person to pop his olive. Martini, my son, and I (minus The Hubs – it was so risqué) headed off on a weeklong trip to the island of Dominica in the Caribbean (and no it is NOT the Dominican Republic). Just getting to our final destination required four planes and one overnight layover, but it was worth it.

Dominica Mountains

The Dominica Mountains


Poor Martini was desperate to get out and see the sights after being trapped in my backpack for two days. I tried to enjoy a Mojito with him, but realized in the end I am a true beer lover. He took it well, and accepted there would be no clandestine affair between us on our vacation.

He became more of a wingman, and considering it was Carnival I couldn’t have been any more in the need. Especially that one night I lost my backpack with him in it, oh and my shoes. Thank God security at our hotel found it and gave it to someone in our party – of course it would have been lovely had they called me to let me know, but then I would have had no reason to freak the fuck out at 5 am and search the hotel compound envisioning how I would explain to my husband I needed to cancel my credit card and he should probably wire me some cash.

The whole purpose of the trip to Dominica was to scuba dive in some of the most beautiful water in the world. Here is the village of Soufriere from our boat.

Soufriere Dominica

The little dude made quick friends with our dive masters. Here he is with Jim Brown, who came over from St. Thomas to join us on the trip! Jim certified my 11-year-old son and I last year, and no doubt he is still suffering from PTSD after that experience. My kid could send Mother Theresa to the bar, and no doubt Jim would be in desperate need of some Martini’s after a week of diving with us.

Jim with Martini

Since alcohol and scuba diving are a no-no, I trusted my little partier with our wonderful boat captain Mano while we headed undersea to view the amazing coral reefs and vibrant fish. I’m pretty sure Mano was wishing Martini was real when I asked him to pose for this picture.

Mano with Martini

Martini with Scuba Gear

It wasn’t all scuba diving while we were there though. The island of Dominica has much to offer the outdoor enthusiast. Our group headed up to Trafalgar Falls and enjoyed a quick hike to the beautiful waterfall, and then a much-needed soak in one of the many hot springs on the island.

I hope you all appreciate that I have included this not so flattering photo of myself sans makeup. I may have cropped the bottom of this pic out to save a little dignity, I’m sure you understand.

Me with Martini TFalls Hot Springs

On our last day we hiked into the rainforest to visit Meddleham Falls. Luckily we had Monsieur Martin, our Tour Guide, to show us the way.  Oh and to keep me from imploding when I had to listen to one person in our group whine about the hike taking more than the posted 45 minutes (psst – that’s because you kept taking breaks because you are out of shape).

As if the adult bitching was not enough I almost lost my shit on my son who insisted on wearing his crocs and then proceeded to complain when he broke his shoes half way into the hike. I would have really loved Flat Martini to be an actual martini at this point, and possibly to have reproduced into a whole bottle of alcohol.

Martin with Martini

All in all Flat Martini was a wonderful travel companion. He was my trusted wingman at Carnival, enjoyed a lovely adventure when I lost him and my backpack at the hotel, didn’t get sea sick on the boat, and even read the map – which is more than most men would do. Maybe Flat Martini is really a woman?

Martini on Meddleham Falls Pic


Thanks Alyson – that was awesome! Stay tuned next week to see where life takes Flat Martini. I have a feeling things are going to be getting a little crazy up in here with the folks I heard he’s visiting next week…

And stop by and visit Alyson’s blog. You can also catch her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest & Instagram. Tell her Flat Martini sent ya.


The Oscars – as seen from my couch…

oscarsLike many others, I celebrate the Oscars by putting on my best pair of sweatpants, busting out the chips I hide from the kids and popping open a cheap bottle of wine. Then I hunker down on the couch and get my tweeting fingers ready. Award shows are to tweeters what naked butt pictures are to Kim Kardashian.

But I understand that Twitter isn’t for everyone. Especially one of my neighbors who can’t stop calling it Twatter.

So I collected some of my observations I tweeted last night and posted them here.

- It’s Christmas Day for me – the ! I’ve decorated the house in Spanx & bronzer and am wearing my best sweatpants for the occasion.

– Quote from 6 yr old daughter seeing J Lo: “Oh no. There’s too many boobies in that dress.”

- Oh Melanie Griffith. I remember the days when we would be able to see if you were happy or sad.

I’m so excited that Lady Gaga is going to help do the dishes after the Oscars. What a team player.

– Oh Reese. I want to love your dress because I love you. But the truth is that I didn’t know ace bandages came in black.

– I feel bad for Lupita. There’s a plethora of inappropriate pearl necklace jokes in her foreseeable future.

– How awesome would be it be if Adam Levine was secretly wearing fake tattoo sleeves this whole time.

- Spoiler: they are going to find J Lo’s bra in the glass box with Neil Patrick Harris’ predictions.

I will love the forever if Adam Sandberg comes back on stage with a box on his junk.

Wait! Kerry Washington actually walks like that?? I thought only Olivia Pope did it when she was saving the world and drinking wine.

– I have great respect for a host that can make a balls joke on the fly. Well done Neil Patrick Harris. 

- I feel bad for Gwyneth Paltrow. It sucks when a pink shark eats your arm and just leaves a bunch of seaweed on your shoulder.

- The irony is not lost on me that my husband just muted the tv during the award for sound mixing.

- Can you consciously uncouple with a dress?

- Terrence Howard’s speech was weird. But then again, it’s hard out here for a pimp. When you’re trying to get the money for the rent.

- Naomi Watts. Sorry part of your dress was stolen. Guessing it was by some pissed moms who are ticked you look like that after kids.

- Someone wake me up when someone streaks the stage or thanks their hamster.


And then I fell asleep. Fingers holding my phone and all. Cause that’s how real people watch the Oscars.

What about you? Did you watch? What did you think?


Have questions for a literary agent?

literary agent questionsI know that many of you are writers, bloggers or folks just interested in learning more about publishing and how writing works. Last year was so exciting for me because I landed a literary agent for an awesome book project that we are in the midst of as we speak! (Read post about that HERE)

Since landing the awesome Jessica Sinsheimer from Sarah Jane Freymann Literary Agency, many folks have asked me questions about the querying and publishing world. I decided to go right to the source – Jessica herself!

But instead of just sending her a bunch of questions, we decided to have some fun with it. We are going to do a video chat next week while we sip cocktails and go through the questions you all have submitted.

Which brings me to my point. I put a post out on Facebook and Twitter with a chance to submit your questions, but now you can also submit by dropping it in the comments below.

I’ll be posting the interview on the blog after we figure out how to work the do-hickey that brings up the video-thingy that then posts it to the interface-ma-jobby.

I can’t promise we’ll get to all your questions, but we’ll definitely try. So give it a go and ask away!


Introducing… FLAT MARTINI!!

If you have ever read the Flat Stanley books by Jeff Brown, a little boy gets flattened and then travels the world with different people. Many schools create programs where students draw a Flat Stanley then send him to friends/relatives and then those people take pictures of themselves on adventures with Flat Stanley.

So last week, I came up with my own version.

The Flat Martini.

I put the idea out on Facebook (which, I hope you follow me on because there’s some funny stuff happening over there) and I asked if readers wanted to go on an adventure with Flat Martini.

The response was INSANE! I didn’t expect to have hundreds of people wanting to spend a week with Flat Martini and document their adventures. But I did and it is seriously awesome!

So I decided to take the first 52 people that reached out to me. That’s one person/per week for the next year. I set up a schedule and sent each of those 52 people a Flat Martini. He’s being sent all over the United States, and even to a few foreign destinations abroad!

Each week, I will feature a blog post written by a reader on their adventures with Flat Martini. It will be filled with pictures and what I’m sure are hilarious escapades. I seriously can’t wait to see where everyone takes the little guy.

And speaking of the little cocktail of love, what does Flat Martini look like?

Introducing… FLAT MARTINI!

Flat Martini - To Print

So stay tuned. The first Flat Martini blog post is coming at the end of February! He’s on his way to his new homes right now and the adventures are about to begin…



Do you want to build a snowman?

snowman with kids

Before they knocked the living life out of him…

When you hold your baby in your arms, you dream of a day when they’ll be a bit older and you can do fun activities together. You imagine baking cookies on a rainy afternoon or snuggling in close to watch their first movie. And for me, I couldn’t wait to build a snowman with my children.

For the past few years, we really haven’t had a great snow that allows us to build anything other than a mound of dirt-filled snow that we pretend is full of snow fairies that for some reason want to live in butt-ass freezing temperatures.

But a few days ago, all that changed. And my dream was about to come true.

I should have suspected when it took us forty minutes and three sets of time-outs to get our snow gear on that my Norman Rockwell image might soon be altered.

As I skipped into the yard, holding my children’s hands in mine, I quickly scooped up some snow and started to show them how to roll it into a ball for the base of the snowman.

“I can’t do it.”

“Mine is falling apart.”

“This is too hard.”

“Can I eat it if it doesn’t have yellow on it?”

“My gloves keep falling off.”

“My side is crooked.”

“Boogers keep coming out of my nose.”

“How about I just make snow angels instead?”

Then, I looked around and saw that my two children were now in the backyard having a snowball fight and I’m a 40 year old woman, by myself, building a snowman.

Twenty minutes later, my kids come to the front yard and say, “Wow, Mommy, great job. Can we knock it down now?”

So I put myself in time-out.

I went inside. Made a hot cup of tea that I dreamed of putting bourbon in, and watched them from the window destroy my very first snowman I made as a mother.

And of course, two minutes later, they were yelling for me to make another one.

And I did.

Because the true picture of family, the one that Norman Rockwell never painted, is the picture of children ruining your stuff. THAT’S what real family looks like.


How to get your significant other in the mood…

If you don’t know this already, I love to use Facebook as a tool for sarcasm, absurd life observations, and also as a forum to talk to all of you – my fun and fearless readers.

So on Friday, I put a question out on Facebook. The question was:

If your significant other could do just ONE thing to get you in the mood what would it be?

The reason I posed this question is that my husband and I recently went on a date night. It was snowy and wet outside. He didn’t get me in the mood by taking me to a fancy dinner (though, that was lovely). He got me in the mood when he did the little things like warn me that there’s a puddle on my side of the car and then came around to help me. The little things. That is what I notice.

So I posed the question to you all.

And made a pie chart. Because, hell, how often in life do you have an opportunity to make a pie chart? Carpe Pie Chart.



And I thought I would share a few of my favorite quotes…

“He passed out on the couch last night while I was still (STILL AFTER ALL DAY) doing stuff around the house. I woke him up so we could go to bed since he had to work. I start to pass out and he puts his hands down my pajama pants and and was all “it’s not that late, you know….” hey, douchcanoe, I was just starting to have a dream with Idris Elba and David Tennant; go ask your hand, dammit!”

“Honey, I went and had that vasectomy you’ve been wanting me to get.”

“I’ve brought George Clooney home to entertain you tonight.”

“Here, have some wine.”


And my personal favorite:

“Those sweatpants are so sexy on you. You should wear them every day.”


So what do you think? Which part of the pie chart do you fit into?


Surprise Guest Blogger: Pocketful of Joules

pocketful of joulesSurprise! It’s so much fun to wake up and decide to feature a fellow blogger’s post without them even knowing. And today is one of those days! And this post is hilarious. It’s written by Joules from Pocketful of Joules and I cracked up when I read it.

She’s taking on a phrase that a person entered into the search engine of Google to find her blog. And when you find out what it is, it’s hilarious.

So go read it. I’m serious – go read it now! You’ll laugh, trust me.

To read it, click HERE.

And be sure to stop by and say hi to her on Facebook and Twitter!


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Lean In? But what if I just want to stand still?

we can do it but do we really want to“What are your goals for the next year?”

Her supervisor was sitting across from her at her annual review, asking the question that every supervisor asks at every annual review.

But this one was different.

Because the person being asked didn’t actually have any goals. She was, dare any woman actually admit, satisfied. She was happy with what she was doing and simply wanted to continue her job as it was.

But she couldn’t say that. She couldn’t tell the manager sitting across from her that she didn’t want any more challenges at work. That her plate was full and she felt no desire to add more to it. She didn’t want to consider a promotion or the chance to supervise staff. She simply wanted to do what she was doing.

This is what happened to a friend of mine. She’s home every night before dinner, gets to be at her kids’ activities and never has to work on weekends. She gets paid well and receives positive reviews and feedback on her work.

But it seems being satisfied isn’t enough.

Over the past few years, thanks in great part to Sheryl Sandberg’s movement to “Lean In”, women are being encouraged to constantly gravitate to more. To seize every opportunity for advancement, to never give up on your dreams.

But what if you have reached your dream.

Must we always lean in? When can you just stand?

Is it a gender issue? It would seem not because men have always been taught the same thing. There always must be a “next step”.  And it doesn’t stop at the top. Because, in reality, there is no top. There is always another big idea you should be having, or another position that aims just a bit higher.

Where did this come from?

I think back to the letters my grandmother and I would write to each other when she was alive. She would tell me about life in the 1940’s and how you worked to provide for your family. You didn’t have career goals – you had needs and those needs had to be met. There’s a beauty in that. A simplicity in knowing that you don’t have to keep climbing up some goal-oriented ladder. That no one is behind you pushing you up and telling you to move faster.

I’m not ready to completely lean out at this point in my life. But I will say that I’m leaning in far less than I used to a few years ago. Or should I say, I’m leaning more towards the things that really matter. The things that might not advance my career at a rapid rate, but definitely make me appreciate the scenery of what’s around me right now.

Perhaps I should write a book to start a movement like Sheryl Sandberg did. I think I’d call it “Just Stand Still”…


Romantic texts between my husband and I…

With all these shows like The Bachelor and The Millionaire Matchmaker, I thought I would give you a glimpse into what real marriage looks like.

Here’s a text I sent to my husband last night.

marriage texts

There you go. That’s REAL love, people.

And yes, he changed it.

And no, I didn’t rub something on his pillow.


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If you give a toddler a walkie talkie…

walkie talkieSo you know those books If You Give A Pig a Pancake or If You Give A Mouse a Cookie? Well, I’ve been reading those for over six years to my children. This past weekend, it became very obvious that I could write one myself. I would call it, If You Give a Toddler a Walkie Talkie

I’m not sure it’s going to hit the New York Times bestseller list or anything, but I’ll give it a shot.

If You Give A Toddler a Walkie Talkie

If You Give A Toddler a Walkie Talkie, he’s going to ask you to play with him.

When you agree to play with him, he’s not going to let you teach him how to use the thing.

When you try to teach him how to use the thing, he’s going to screech and abruptly pull his arm away.

When he pulls his arm away, he’s going to catch the end of his walkie talkie on your shirt.

When he catches the walkie talkie on your shirt, he’s going to fall down.

When he falls down, he’s going to cry.

When he cries, he’s going to let you help him up.

When he gets up, he’s going to again ask you to play walkie talkies.

When you start to show him how to talk into the walkie talkie, he’ll say, “I know, I know” and start to run upstairs.

When he runs upstairs, he won’t stop holding down the damn button and won’t be able to hear you.

When he isn’t able to hear you, he’ll start to yell.

When he starts to yell, you’ll want to teach him how to use the walkie talkie.

While you are trying to teach him how to use the walkie talkie, he’ll lie to you and say he understands.

When he once again doesn’t let go of the button, he will throw it down the stairs.

When he throws it down the stairs, he will start to cry again.

When he cries again, you’ll want to get a flask.

When you can’t get a flask, you’ll want to cry with him.

And chances are, if you both are crying, you’ll probably want to play walkie talkies to cheer you up.


Why I have to stop watching The Bachelor…

watching bachelorI can remember watching the first episode of the very first Bachelor. It was 2002 and I watched it at a girlfriend’s house while we sipped wine and yelled inappropriate comments at the television screen.

And we watched the first few seasons together just like that every week, until something changed.

The show went from a group of women who were fun and normal to insane, desperate women who looked like characters from Single White Female.

So I stopped watching.

It’s been ten years since I’ve watched.

Then, they announced that the bachelor would be a farmer from Iowa.

Well then.

See I’m living in Nebraska so Iowa is our neighbor. And my husband’s grandfather, uncles, cousins, etc… are farmers.

So I decided to give it another go.

And after 15 minutes of watching, I realized something.

Just like ex-boyfriends should stay ex-boyfriends, The Bachelor should stay an ex-show of mine as well.

Here’s why:

1. No nickname is ever good in The Bachelor. Calling him Prince Farming just made me want to stick a pitchfork in my own eye.

2. Why, oh why, do the girls think they need a gimmick when they first meet a man? From a pig’s nose to a karaoke machine, these girls seem to have the inability to just say, “Hi, nice to meet you.” I’m hoping that their co-workers offered them buckets of money to do these gimmicks so when they are dumped by him, they’ll at least have some cash.

3. It ticks me off to see women being mean to each other over a man that they don’t actually know. Which brings me to my next point. They don’t actually know this guy. They gush over him as if they can see inside his soul yet they have no idea if he’s wearing a leather thong underneath that suit or keeps a whip in his briefcase.

4. I can’t stop laughing every time The Bachelor talks about what an “amazing person” one of the ladies are. Since he has only had one conversation with each of them, I’m assuming he is referring to their breasts and ass when he is discussing their amazing qualities.

5. Lastly, I realized something as the last rose was handed out. I don’t fault these women for looking for love. I don’t. I admire their courage to go on national television and try to find someone to spend their life with. However, I feel uncomfortable watching them. I feel as if they are searching for something with such desperation that it is actually hard to watch.

You know what I wish would happen this season of The Bachelor? I wish that all those woman would turn to him and say, “I’m worth more than to be just one of many. I deserve to have someone want to just be with me. I don’t need to compete to get someone to love me.”  And then I wish they would not choose him.

Now THAT would be a television show I would raise my glass of wine to again.



My daughter’s warmth…

daughter princess

One of the many trips to the children’s museum…

I’ve spent the past two and a half weeks being Julie, the Cruise Director from The Love Boat, for my children. Because they were off from school, I planned playdates, outings, movies, and all sorts of activities. Each night, I would sip a glass of wine and shake my head at how exhausted I was.

There were holidays, parties and even family visits in there too.

Each day, I noticed my patience getting less and less and my bitchiness getting more and more.

On the last day of vacation, I was just down right punchy. And sick. I finally got the head and chest cold that had gone through the whole family. I was exhausted.

And just when I was getting ready to find out the value of my children on the black market, something happened.

My six-year-old daughter asked if I would take a nap with her.

Usually this consists of her kicking me and poking her feet into various ribs and organs of my body. However, this time was different.

As I laid wrapped in five thousand layers to combat my chills, she snuggled in close and took both of my hands in hers.

She softly kissed each one and tucked them under her body to warm them up.

I should have pulled them away so as not to infect her with my germs, but I couldn’t. They were so warm and so kind.

Together we slept on the last day of vacation, our hands locked together, and I forgot all about the insanity from the past two weeks. I didn’t even feel sick for those few minutes. I felt warm. I felt loved.

Often, at the end of the day, I think about some of the things I did wrong as a parent. However, on that day, I thought of one thing I did right.

Loving her.

And loving her is never something I could do wrong.


What it’s REALLY like to get a mammogram…

mammogramTurning 40 comes with many glorious things. You care less about your body shape, you truly say anything you want most days, you feel a bit wiser than you were in your 20’s when you thought wearing a bodysuit was a good idea. But the biggest milestone that occurs when you hit the big 4-0 is the famous trip to the mammogram machine.

Public service announcement: Mammograms save lives. It’s stupid not to get one. Seriously, it’s just plain stupid. Go get one and make sure you stay healthy not just for yourself but for those that love you.

Now, back to my story.

So let me tell you what it’s like to get a mammogram. Not the scientific version, but the real crap you need to know.

1st thing you need to know: Don’t wear deodorant. I, of course, failed to remember this detail the nurse told me when I scheduled my appointment. So for five minutes before the xray, I was topless in a doctor’s bathroom scrubbing foam soap on my pits to wash away any trace of deodorant. For the rest of the morning I smelled like Dial hand sanitizer every time I lifted my arm slightly.

2nd thing you need to know: You’ll never want to put your top back on. When I got into the changing room, the nurse opened a magical warming machine and removed the hottest and softest scrub-like-tie top for me to wear. It felt like a marsupial had wrapped its cozy, fuzzy arms around me and let me sleep in its furry bosom.

3rd thing you need to know: The machine was definitely created by a man. No woman would ever think of a system where a cold metal plate would be used to crush the most beloved parts of our body. If a woman invented a mammogram machine, it would be covered in crushed velvet and caress our breasts until we were ready to smoke a cigarette afterwards.

4th thing you need to know: It’s not that bad. It takes four pictures and each picture pinches pretty hard for about 3-5 seconds where you think about crushing the nurse’s head in that cranking machine. But then it is done and you realize that she’s a nice old grandmother who is probably jealous that your boobs don’t touch the ground yet.

5th thing you need to know: They don’t give you a “get out of sex card” at the end. It’s not like a pap swear where you can work that stuff for a day or two and tell the husband that you are sore and couldn’t possibly be on top. Nope, your boobs feel fine five minutes later. Heck, they probably would welcome a caressing touch after the metal plate of hell just crashed upon them.

So if you are 40 or have breast cancer in you family, go get one. And the best part is that I got to wait in the waiting room with all the pregnant folks who were going to have their first ultrasound. As I drank fully caffeinated coffee and thought about the cocktail I was going to drink that night.


My holiday break predictions…

snowman cardThe children are out from school. Which means that I have to actually parent. What a bummer.

My predictions for the next two weeks:

– Someone will cry at least twice an hour. One of those people will be me.

– Someone will get sick from a casual trip to the children’s museum. Which then means I will.

– Someone will be in time-out every four to seven hours. I wish it were me.

– Someone will ask me for a snack every fifteen minutes. I will eat it along with them because I am weak.

– Someone will want to cuddle and wipe snot on various parts of my body. I will leave it there for hours.

– Someone will leave food in a spot that I won’t find for two weeks. I will wait for the ants to show me the way.

– Someone will be drinking massive amounts of alcohol on a nightly basis while finding stickers on her ass. Of course, that will be me.

– Someone will make me laugh every day. That’s what makes it all worth it.

Happiest holidays to all. And to all, lots of alcohol.



The ending of Serial… my thoughts.

serialI had the pleasure of interviewing Rabia Chaudry a few weeks ago, the woman who first approached NPR’s Sarah Koenig with the case that went on to be investigated for the now famous Serial podcast. It’s a series that I have been addicted to since one long road trip in November.

The last episode of the series was last night and the response from listeners on social media has been everything from nasty and name-calling to supportive and insightful.

So where do I fall on this spectrum?

Each week, I sat with my husband next to the speaker as if we had traveled back in time to the era of the Fireside Chats. We huddled together without a sound except Sarah Koenig’s voice, or the occasional painful screeching of the defense attorney. We shut off the television, we took a break from our busy lives, and we spent time listening. Then talking. Then listening again.

And on the day of the last episode, I went rouge and off plan and listened all by myself in the car after preschool drop off. I couldn’t wait, I was too eager.

And I was disappointed.

But not in the podcast.

I was disappointed in myself.

I was disappointed because the whole allure of the experience was listening with my husband and dissecting it together.

See that’s what I think the whole point in the series was.

To create a narrative. To get people talking. Not staring at a television screen or getting consumed in their own day to day routines. But stopping, listening and then talking. Each week, I loved that. I loved pouring that glass of wine and picking apart each detail, each witness and laying them out as if we were detectives on Law & Order.

I was disappointed I didn’t have that for the finale. However, I did own up to it and had to kiss his ass for the next four hours after admission. Finally, he asked if I would listen again and we were back on track.

So what did I think of the ending?

I loved it.

I loved it because it was true, it was honest, and it was what storytelling should be.

It was impossible to have a wrapped-up-like-a-bow ending. That isn’t real life and the entire point of the series was the reality of it. Not like “reality tv” reality, but real reality. Real people in real time.

Not all stories have a happy ending. Some are on-going. Some are heartbreaking. But what the ending of Serial did was leave us wanting more. Which, in my opinion, is the always the mark of a wonderful storyteller.