Fishing for Fika: FINALLY!


Hooray! You’re here. Welcome. Today’s the launch of a project that is so much more than a blog or podcast. It’s the culmination of failed endeavors, constant questioning, endless searching, and serious surrendering.

For years I’ve felt like I was fishing for something special. I’d cast a line into deep waters, unsure of my bait, anxiously angling and frantically reeling in.

I was desperate to do something with my writing. I was hungry to connect. A perpetual daydreamer, I yearned for the chance to make my mark. But like so many, I got caught up in the chaos. I swam in emails, became a slave to my phone, and cohabited with my computer.

In this powerful, fast-paced, ever-changing world, I drowned in doubt, fear, and epic excuses.

One day a friend asked me if I wanted to fika.  A true lover of words, she rendered me silent. What was fika?  Upon explanation, I was game.

Fika made sense. It was a chance to break and converse. A pause without a purpose other than fostering friendship or camaraderie. So we sat. We had no technology, no distraction, and no agenda.  She made the most delicious coffee and we let our discussion go in all sorts of directions. It felt strange, freeing, and fun.

As a storyteller, I’m drawn to opportunities to grow and gain insight into others. Fika offers me the platform to connect and conspire while creating stories worth sharing.

You’re a part of this project. In fact, you’re the passion behind it. Let’s fika!

Mom Fika: More “Mother’s Day”

danijela-froki-575670-unsplashI spent the day being showered with affection. From morning snuggles to handmade cards, it was simple and sweet. Highlights included a solo walk, which felt strange sans stroller, hot coffee, and an uninterrupted bath. It was the perfect combination of quiet indulgence and lovable noise. I am grateful.

I’m not sure people fully grasp the concept of fika. Furthermore, I’m convinced a lot of others don’t understand my passionate pursuit of it. I’m commonly asked, “what are you trying to do?” I could give you multiple versions or explanations, but only one truly matters, which is centered in connection. I believe that we become better people when we immerse ourselves in opportunities for engagement.

As a writer, I generate more ideas and invite inspiration into my life when I connect and conspire with others. As a mom, I unearth strength and cultivate confidence when I surround myself with positive and powerful women.  Fika is changing the way I live and it’s redefining how I work. It’s becoming something more than I anticipated and it’s exceeding the expectations of others.

I’m all in on the Mother’s Day celebrations.  Yesterday was a welcomed change where I surrendered and shared my joy in mommyhood with family. And while I loved everything about Mother’s Day, it got me thinking about what I need more of in my life. I need mom fika.

On Saturday, June 30th, from 10 a.m. – 1 p.m. I’m hosting a mom fika at the Madison Community House. It’s a free event for mamas who are interested in getting out to talk to other mamas about anything and everything. We’re serving coffee and champagne, otherwise known as mom fuel, and giving ourselves permission to relax right in the middle of Saturday schedules.

The premise is simple: take a break with me. Let’s connect and cheers to mom life in a space filled with other beautiful, bold, busy, and brilliant mamas. Why? Because we shouldn’t allocate our celebrations of mommyhood to a sole Sunday in May. Let’s fika! If you plan to attend, please email so your coffee is hot and your champagne flute full.

21 Days


My daughter randomly brought me my husband’s phone the other day.  Her latest obsession is to scroll through pictures.  And while I try to limit screen time, it’s fun to listen to her recollection of memories and play-by-play of past events. As we sat and looked at pictures I noted how horrific I looked in one of the photos taken. For whatever reason, it was the first time I saw the picture and it frustrated me to no end. I deleted it.

A couple of weeks ago I was at a friend’s house for brunch. A few of us gathered for a picture. There had been talk of posting it to social media. I begged for it to be kept private. I loathed it.

So what’s the deal?

I don’t feel or like that my inner joy isn’t reflected outwardly. My best self isn’t projected physically and it wrecks me.

I’m accountable. I own it. I got lazy. Lazy isn’t pretty. I want the beauty I feel about what I’m doing and how I do it to be palpable in all aspects of my life. I want to like how I look.

I thought about a gimmick. I was tempted by a shortcut. Ultimately, I want long-lasting results with a reasonable and responsible approach. Just like my writing, I can’t rush this endeavor. It didn’t happen overnight so I can’t will it away quickly. Again, this is all part of my accountability and a need for action.

I’ve read it takes 21 days to form a new habit, so I decided to be better and brighter for 21 days. I’ve taken to celebrating who I am now and working toward moving more and eating less. I’m two days in and I’m nowhere near feeling changed, but I do feel compelled and comforted.

Whenever we make a change that’s self-motivated it wakes us up in more ways than one. I’m writing a little more, smiling big, and loving without limits. If this is how I feel two days in, I can’t wait to see what happens after the completion of this mini-challenge.

Are you self-made, self-motivated, or self-saved? Did you start something small that became something big?  Tell me your stories. Let’s fika!

Railings Revisited​


We moved into our home last July. Like most homeowners, we had a list of projects that we wanted to tackle, so we got right to work. Slowly but surely, we’ve been making moves and getting things done. Some projects are fun and fancy, while others are maintenance based and lack appeal. Regardless, it’s exciting to make our mark on the home’s character and story.

Built in 1966, our split-level home had already undergone dramatic changes before we even purchased it. One thing remained original, however, was the wrought iron railings. The railings were not to my taste, and from the moment our offer was accepted I devised a plan to get rid of them.

For months I’ve been nagging my husband about the railing project. We’ve had numerous quotes, endless design chats, and constant conflict over the budget. (<–Just keeping it real.) The more I looked at the railings, the more I loathed them.  Last month, we finally pulled the trigger, and after much debate agreed on the aesthetic design. I had happy tears.

Guess what? Even though I’m thrilled to bid farewell to the railings, I’ll miss them.

Does this ever happen to you?

I’ve given so much thought to the new look, but this old look was something to someone. I like to think about the hands that have touched the railings over the years. I imagine people have grabbed on to them in times of great joy and clutched them in desperation or uncertainty. This might read a bit dramatic, but I’m okay with it.

As much as I’m excited to change the vibe and style of our home, it signals the end of an era.

Sometimes I get so caught up in the future, I fail to appreciate the past.  These railings were selected for a reason and kept, maintained, and unchanged for several years.

It’s unbelieve how we can lust for something for so long and then have feelings of melancholy once our goal is met or achieved. Now that I’ve revisited the railings I see them for what they are; a chapter in this home’s story. On Monday, I write a new chapter and I hope someday someone might revisit my design decisions with thoughtfulness and appreciation.


We’re All Busy


New pet peeve: discussing how busy I am or hearing others discuss their crazy calendars. Initially, I didn’t recognize how much I talked about things like this, or how apparent it is within casual conversations. However, it’s a rampant epidemic that’s in need of a quick cure. Here’s the thing, we’re all busy.

I’m not going to rattle off my responsibilities. Like you, assume there are many. My busyness doesn’t need to be advertised or lamented. I created it. I like it. In fact, I love it. And there my friends is the exact point of this blog post. If you’re less than pleased or incredibly frustrated by the busyness, change it.

I’m sure someone is screaming at the screen right now, “It’s not that easy.” I didn’t say it was easy. And even if you’re unhappy, why complain? What purpose does it serve?

My role model for being a busy bee is my mama. She beats the energizer bunny on her best day and matches him on her worst. The woman doesn’t stop and it serves her well. I like being busy, I do, but I’m not sure I have the same finesse to my functionality. Regardless, it’s clear that busyness is our thing.

This entire post has me thinking, why are we so busy? It’s the perfect question to launch my next fika. Are you game? Let’s connect.

How Talking is Transforming My Life

jon-tyson-195064-unsplash.jpgI was born a talker. I like surface conversations, but I prefer soul sessions. Fika is transforming me.

A few weeks ago the power of the Internet gifted me a connection. Someone ‘out there’ reached out about fika and decided to pour their time and talent into my passion. From this opportunity, I came to the conclusion that things needed to get serious.

I’m slightly shifting my focus to be more productive and positive while expanding the possibilities for future fikas. To begin, I’m starting a new mini-series entitled “dreaming deeper,” which specifically centers on prospects and their profound ability to propel us forward.

I’m also committing to content and pledging consistency within weekly podcasts. You’ll find thematic topics create more authentic and appealing opportunities.

These changes are necessary because of interest and investment, which has so much to do with you! I’ve been flooded and humbled by interest and/or people who want to invest their time and talents into fika. For me, there is no higher compliment.

One piece of the puzzle is that Mom Fika is going to be a thing. Soon, with locations and dates to be announced, mamas will be able to talk and dream with coffee and champagne in hand.

Talking is transforming me. It’s changing the way I write. It’s changing what I write. It’s changing everything.

Get ready. Let’s fika.


For My Messy Moms


Truer words have never been written. I won’t say that I’m fully there yet, but I’m definitely on my way to becoming my mother in more ways than I anticipated.  There’s nothing wrong with this at all. Truthfully, it’s a good thing. My mom is salt of the earth and I’d be lucky to grow and impact people like she has and continues to do. Lately, I like to think about people as they once were, especially before I knew them.

When I’m losing my mind at dinnertime as my threenager channels her inner animal, or I’m knee deep in self-pity as I clean the training potty, I try to envision how my mother would handle the situation or stress.

Bias has me claiming her perfection. I don’t remember my mom losing her cool often. In fact, it seems she always knows the right way to talk me off a ledge. Her wisdom and peace were a stable force throughout my life and remain so to date. I often think I’d feel better about my own mess if God could grant me a glimpse into her hiding in a closet from her four monstrous children or chugging wine from the bottle after multiple soccer tournaments.

I’ve been at this fika thing for a few months now and while I’ve got a whole lot left to reveal, I’m basking in what I’ve already claimed and proud of the change that’s transpired.

Whenever I fika with a mom we tend to dive right into the messiness of our lives. It’s our common thread and bond. We discuss meltdowns at Target. We recommend copious kid products. We marvel at change. We celebrate athleisure wear. We curse laundry. We lust for sleep. We praise milestones. We fear failure. We reminisce about college. We chug coffee. We whine for wine. We mourn DIY disasters. We share recipes. We cry over chaos. We dream bigger. We find purpose. We feel better.

Fika knows no limits.  We’re allowed to get messy. Owning the mess is the first step to cleaning it up. Or, maybe it’s not a mess at all. Maybe it’s motherhood. Either way, the daily craziness in our lives need to be shared in order for it to be surrendered.

When I was home last week I watched my mother juggle a million things. It’s her forte. I see her differently now. She was knee deep in the mess. When you’re younger, you don’t see the mess because you’re making it. My image of perfection and my mom’s way of handling things aren’t too different from mine. And while I didn’t know her pre-mom, parts of her peak through more clearly now.

At the end of her busy day, she sat down with a glass of wine and watched some Netflix. It was as if God granted my request to see her through a different lens. I watched her tired eyes dance with delight for a little self-care.

Moms need fika more than ever before, which is why I’m in the works to launch a Messy Mom fika in the near future. Stay tuned for time, location, and topics. Until then, know this: our mess is making memories and fostering love for others. If nothing else, I know this through my own mother. Stay messy!

Saturday Night


It’s Saturday night. My husband took a break from painting our foyer to make me some tea. I had an epic battle with our threenager over her sleep or lack thereof. In the midst of a tantrum worthy of the best actress award, she woke up her one-year-old sister. Our youngest was eager to see what the fuss was about. After the kids went to bed for the second or third time I set out to make an epic to-do list.  Then it hit me, the Saturday night surprise.

Every now and then I surprise myself on Saturdays. Instead of diving into a barrel of wine, which used to be standard and is still occasionally a welcomed form of fun, I run to write. I literally get excited and overwhelmed with anticipation at the thought of alone time with my laptop.  Why? Because there is no greater goal than allowing time for what I love.

While I was away this week I played with the concept of fika. I went further than the surface and found there’s definite relevance in what I’m doing and it’s starting to stretch into places and people that I never imagined. Honestly, I had so much on my plate that it was starting to overwhelm me. But this week’s Saturday surprise is the gift of remembrance.  I started this endeavor for a few specific and special reasons and whenever I return to my roots, I am reminded of how much I can grow.