Issue 8 – Editor Letter

Three years ago I launched CAKE&WHISKEY from my mint-green 1940’s kitchen table. Two years before that I was covered in sticky, sugary fluff helping my son run his mail-order marshmallow company. Earlier still I was taking custom orders for handmade bags and aprons that I would sew from that same kitchen table into the wee hours of the morning while my babes slept. And before that, I was a star seller on eBay, making ends meet with the sale of vintage DVF dresses and Hanna Andersson jumpers. Interspersed in that decade, I was writing fresh content for my blog and navigating my way through the world of freelance writing.

Whew!

For those years, while my little ones napped or played with blocks, endless loads of laundry tumbled in the dryer and Sami and EJ’s latest drama on Days of Our Lives unfolded in the background (ahem), I worked from home. And what I found is that it is both amazingly glorious and enormously grinding…usually simultaneously. Self-discipline became my bedrock because distraction reared its head every hour of every day. Self-affirmation became my closest friend when there was no one to give me the high five I deserved. Self-motivation became the skill that I eventually mastered, because without it I would be out of business.

This issue is an homage to women around the globe who are doing some really amazing things in the world of business, right from the home offices, kitchen tables, front steps, snuggly beds and cozy nooks of their homes.

Some are doing so by choice, others because there is no other option.

Some are corporate, others are entrepreneurial.

Some stay barefoot while others are breaking out their Frye boots to board a flight.

Some are wanting to make their mark. Others look for no fame at all.

What proves to be the thread that connects them all is calling the comforts of home a perk of the job.

Gone are (most of) my days at the mint-green vintage kitchen table. Today I sit at a real office desk with swivel chair. I have a business mailing address and hold meetings in a bona fide office space.

There are days I miss the routine of pouring a fourth cup of coffee from my own coffeepot and listening to Grover’s latest mishap on PBS from the other room while my kid drops more Cheerios into the couch crevices. I miss doing squats and jumping jacks between emails, prepping dinner at 2 pm instead of 6:30 and having a girlfriend drop by for an unexpected visit. I miss letting my mood dictate my work hours (Shutting off that too-early alarm with a promise, “I’ll just work late tonight.”). I miss my marathon wearing of yoga pants (You really CAN wear UGG boots with a sweater and 2-day-worn yoga pants to Starbucks and look PERFECTLY legit!). Most of all, I miss Sami and EJ.

Okay, okay…I tease.

Subscribe to CAKE&WHISKEY magazine or purchase the single issue here.

Issue 7 – Editor Letter

I grew up in a conservative Midwest home where opinions on taboo topics were generally regurgitated thoughts from whatever far-right guest was featured on that week’s Meet the Press. Conversation around our holiday dinner table usually (only) involved Big 10 college football standings, never heavy issues that had the potential of raising voices or flinging food (although the latter might have been a better use for the canned cranberry).

The summer I turned 16 I took a five-week trek to Papua New Guinea. From the moment the little Cessna touched down in the green mountains of Goroka, my world view changed. Forever.

Everything my Midwest upbringing had taught me about women’s rights, corporal punishment, spirituality and sexuality were challenged and solidified, narrowed and broadened, stretched and reshaped. My childhood ideals of ‘how things should be’ were turned on their heads.

I spent those weeks deeply immersed in tribal culture. I mourned for the sick who lay suffering on woven mats in their smoke-filled huts, with no chance of recovery. I beamed when given the honor of naming the newborn baby I held in my arms. I came to understand human interaction in a way I never had before, despite the language barrier, and I lived among a people group whose taboos were so vastly different from any I will ever have reason to discuss around my own dinner table.

The idea for this ‘Taboo Issue’ came about while I was driving back from an out of town meeting. Typically I drive in silence (when you have three boys, silence truly is golden), but over this particularly long stretch of bluegrass highway I was listening intently to a podcast about a Wisconsin cop turned Buddhist teacher. As the conversation progressed between host and guest, the female officer shared how she weaved her spiritual practice into her daily work habits, with its positive ramifications eventually transforming her precinct.

And it got me thinking….why don’t we talk about this stuff at work? Why do we avoid asking someone’s take on a piece of legislation in Congress? Why does it feel so awkward mentioning my latest spiritual readings during the initial chit-chat of a business meeting?

These taboos, these topics that we avoid like the plague in the name of “political correctness,” are the very topics that allow us to set superficiality on the shelf.

And the women behind these taboos? That’s what interests me the most. They are the wise and powerful movers and shakers, many of them choosing to remain behind the scenes, laying the groundwork in the industries that we so trepidatiously run from.

Within the pages of this issue, I’m inviting you to join me at the dinner table. Let me introduce you to some of my guests. We may not all agree on the topics at hand during the course of this meal, but I bet we’ll find some common ground. And maybe, just maybe, your view of ‘how things should be’ will be turned on its head. If nothing else, at least we’ll all enjoy the cake and whiskey.

Issue 6 – Editor Letter

The clock on the bedside table said 7 a.m. Much too early for this girl who had been up late the night before at an industry dinner.

I was three days into a conference in Washington DC and was slated to speak to a room of seasoned magazine executives after breakfast. But first things first. Wardrobe.

No-nonsense Banana Republic dress? Check. Conservative heels, not too high, not too flat? Check. A light coat of mascara and under eye concealer to play some “I feel so refreshed from a great night’s sleep” trickery from the stage? Check.

Hair…. Hair…..umm, nothing. An unfortunate wardrobe oversight, for sure, because I have quite the head of long, thick, unruly hair. Twenty minutes until the continental breakfast and I needed to think of something―pronto. My go to style in desperate times like these? The side braid. After a few failed attempts, I got it right. I reached into the depths of my makeup bag for a hair thingy. (What’s your name for it?)

I think you can see where this story might be headed. No hair thingy to be found. After a futile five-minute one-handed search through bags, pockets, zipper compartments and suitcases, a concierge request for a rubber band delivery would be next. When I opened the coat closet and voilà! A satin hanger. And not just ANY satin hanger; this satin hanger had a white satin ribbon bow wrapped around the hook.

With my one free hand (the other holding the end of my braid for dear life) I unraveled the ribbon and, with some pretty spectacular replicating ability, I might say, I tied it around the base of my braid into a perfectly dainty bow.

I looked in the mirror―and felt a tinge (understatement) mortified. Business dress, conservative shoes, ladylike makeup…and white schoolgirl, Pollyanna bow.

Awesome, Megan. Way to be legit among your new peers.

Feeling deflated, I weighed the ramifications of scrapping the entire idea. But time was not on my side and Lord knows I needed that coffee and dry muffin to keep me from a nerve-ridden dizzy spell on stage.

In that moment, instead of panicking, I paused.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

And in those few moments of pause two words came to mind: sweet and spirited.

And I smiled.

With my power suit ironed and my game face on, I had been verging on puking for two days as I prepped to speak to the decades of experience in the ballroom four floors down. But in that moment of culminated anxiety, my little white bow actually became a gift. A reminder of the sweet. The fun. The more lighthearted and less hard-on-myself ways I know I need, especially in moments of “work mode” like these.

The clock was ticking. I turned the Spotify channel to Katy Perry while adding the last swipes of makeup and final touches to my presentation and then jetted to my caffeine and bran.

An hour later, nerves subsided, I spoke to the publication pros, with my white satin bow borrowed from the hotel hanger and bright courage in my step. I was, in essence, silently preaching from the podium what this magazine…this mission…is all about: “blending the serious with the serendipity,” as one reader put it.

It’s so EASY to get wrapped up in the seriousness of business. There’s a reason the term is coined “serious business,” right? The goals, the juggling and balance, the presentations, the proper hashtag usage, a meeting’s productivity or lack thereof and the disappointments over excel spreadsheets. Even our victories can swallow up any bit of joy in a day when we use them only as strategies for reaching the next rung on the ladder.

But when satin bow moments happen, we need to grab ahold of those little gifts of whimsy and wonder. They do come along! Often! You must open your eyes and look for them. Because they have huge potential to impact the course of your day.

Had I worn a frumpy rubber band whose first life was wrapped around the morning newspaper in the lobby, I likely would have been disgruntled with my ‘bad start’ to the day and it would have showed. And I can promise you my smile wouldn’t have been nearly as big from stage, which ultimately gave others a reason to smile after that same late night party we all were dragging from.

Issue 5 – Editor Letter

“She stood in the storm and when the wind did not blow her away, she adjusted her sails.” Elizabeth Edwards

When this magazine was birthed I was living a comfortably predictable life in Kentucky with three small boys and a hardworking husband. By all accounts, I was the traditional stay-at-home mom. Over the course of a decade I created a haven for friends and family. We hosted dozens of parties each year under the big maple tree in the back yard. I started a blog to chronicle all those milestones in a mother’s journey. I kept myself challenged by upping my domestic know-how and eventually became a businesswoman by profiting on those skills.

When the idea for CAKE&WHISKEY came to me like an Oprah “ah-ha” moment nearly two years ago, it was unforeseeable how much the skill of adaptability would need to be cultivated (sometimes internally kicking and screaming) if I were to see this idea through.

No longer was my morning coffee the first thing that got me out of bed, for a rigorous schedule that started well before the boys tumbled down the stairs for breakfast became the new norm. And no longer was this slightly-introverted girl able to slip quietly into preschool to pick up my son, for national speaking engagements pushed me far outside my scope of ease. And no longer was I able to devote the same energy to keeping up with friends as nights and weekends became my ‘no phone’ time, allowing me to wholly focus on my family. Ultimately those adjustments, ever so slight, became the crucial catalyst that allowed the potential for CAKE&WHISKEY’s growth possible. Without them, you would not be reading this letter.

This morning I write this from a small hotel room. It’s before dawn and I’m barely tapping the keys as to not wake my sleeping boys and husband beside me. For the next three weeks this hotel room will be our home as we head into the biggest transition as a family, to date.

That maple tree we hosted dozens of parties under is now someone else’s maple tree. The neighbors we shared garden bounties and baked goodies with for many years are no longer our neighbors. The life and business we built in a sleepy Southern town now needs to be cultivated in a northern city we had never set foot in before. Things change in life and business. Malleability becomes a necessity.

By nature, we tend to buck change, even though what we want more than anything in life is to not remain the same forever. We’re funny creatures that way.

As each feature story in this issue came across my desk, the theme of adaptability and ultimately, resiliency, became my take away. Maybe because as I was reading these stories, I was looking deep for my own source of resiliency and strength. We do tend to glean nuggets of wisdom where we need it most, don’t we?

This magazine gives voice to the stories of businesswomen who are on a journey. And that would be each of us. It’s what we relate to, because no one lives a simple life. We all face tragedy and heartache and chaos at some point and although it may pale in comparison to those you’ll read of Misty Copeland or Annie Kruyer, when read through the lens of your own story, whether now or in ten years time, the messages resonate deeply.

I am certain that we can learn from and champion each other when we understand that every woman we meet in the boardroom, the locker room, the school parking lot and the negotiating table is likely also adjusting her sails to weather a storm.

Issue 4 – Editor Letter

I boarded the plane leaving Charles de Gaulle Airport, bound for the rolling pasture hills of Kentucky and home to my husband and three boys. I was tired from endless days of walking the streets of Paris (pitiful, right?) and looked forward to the next eight hours of mindless movie watching and snoozing.

I sorted my must-haves for the flight ahead and plopped down in my seat. Next to me sat a man who hadn’t looked up since my arrival.

I’m all for quiet travel. In fact, I welcome it. Yet I couldn’t not break the ice with a smile, hello and witty quip about the long trip before us to the man in the window seat. So ahead I forged with my quip to the quiet one beside me.

An American expat living in France, Don was a businessman traveling back to the states for work. We were, by all accounts, a very un-likely pair to connect. Yet we did. Instantly. Occasionally I would see fellow passengers glance our way as our initial hesitant hello grew over the hours to some of the best conversation I’ve had in a really long time.

Maybe you’ve had this same experience before. One of those rare moments when you know the right person has crossed your path at just the right time in life. They, without knowing, speak deeply to what your mind and soul need to hear. That was the gift Don gave me over the Atlantic.

Business concepts, strategies, hesitancy and self-doubt were secretly becoming all-consuming (maybe you know the feeling?) and I was struggling for clarity. Don, in the final years of a long-term career and one who has both succeeded and failed, learned and grew from it all, listened as this blonde-haired stranger poured out her entrepreneurial insecurities to him. He mostly listened and sagely shared wisdom with me. We talked about expectations and pressure and the enormity of responsibility when diving into the unknown. He nodded his head in agreement often and generously shared kind smiles and reassuring words.

Weeks have passed since that flight and still his words and actions play in my mind. Without him ever knowing, they’ve helped re-instill confidence in my goals and dreams and given me clarity for the journey ahead.

Man: Friend or Foe? I smile each time I read the cover because depending who I ask, the answer will most definitely (and likely with lots of back story, bias, sentiment and reasoning) be different.

This magazine was birthed out of a passion to share the stories of businesswomen worldwide, encompassing all points in the journey and not respective to any particular walk of life. And as much as this is a magazine about women, we will never discount the role that men play in our journeys. Because their role is vital, if we allow it. We must allow it.

Women. We sorta rock, don’t we? I’ll save some precious retail space called ‘word count’ by letting you fill in the blanks on why, although my daily to-do list is proof enough that I could run a small country effectively and still provide a home cooked meal at the day’s end. And when I start to forget what I’m capable of, there are plenty of reminders everywhere I turn–from NY Times bestsellers to motivational TED talks that tell me, ad nauseam, it’s true. I rock.

As a businesswoman, I love businessmen. In fact, I am a better businesswoman because of them. They help sharpen our skills by countering our objectives. They challenge our thought pattern (remember, they are from Mars) and help us see things from a new vantage point. They can teach us how to command attention in a room, if need be, and they can walk us through the art of closing a deal when our strength is merely making a new friend across the table (ok…I’m speaking for myself on those last two).

Almost weekly I am asked about this whole concept of cake and whiskey. The sweet and the spirited. The culturally feminine and the culturally masculine. Our events nationwide, where we indeed eat cake and drink whiskey, are for women, because as women we DO derive energy and strength from one another. Yet, to see man as an adversary (which unfortunately is the underlying current in some women-based circles) negates the benefits men can offer us and our careers.

A friend and colleague explained his point of view: “Often we as men are criticized for our oppressive policies and actions intended only to put the woman down.  In that way, I feel some women take this sentiment to the natural conclusion that they don’t need man, any man, to be successful. While it is in an ambitious woman’s best interest to stand out on her own, she’d be doing a tremendous disservice to cast aside men who have the ability to help. Like any civil rights movement, you need support from leaders within the majority to move forward as a minority.”

This letter is not an attempt to dialog about glass ceilings, gender equality issues or suppression. Terrible circumstances exist for women around the globe that need our compassion and our action. But my hope is that for us who have the freedom to explore our careers and take on challenges in life, we’ll seize the opportunities around us to learn from and work alongside the maddening yet amazing species called “men.”

And I hope someday soon you’ll get the rare opportunity to sit by a quiet fellow with loads of insight and encouragement. Go ahead. Take that leap and break the ice with a smile and a witty quip.

Issue 3 – Editor Letter

When I was 15, I spent six weeks trekking through Papua New Guinea. At 17, I went to Africa. When I was 22, I rode horses and drank fermented mares’ milk in Mongolia and at 24, I again backpacked through remote tribal villages in PNG, this time with my husband and 7-month-old son.

And then my traveling days came to a halt. More baby boys came along, job transfers, career building, mortgages, bills, carpools… Well, let’s just say~ life happened.

Morning cups of coffee, sugary cereal bowls piled high in the sink followed by the school day send-off, office meetings, pending deadlines, grocery lists, soccer games, rushed dinners, even more rushed bedtimes, and then the quiet of the night before starting all over again. And as much as we try to embrace that sugary cereal bowl routine of life bit, we’re likely to discover we’re tapped out. That glazed over look in our eyes is not, in fact, from a late night marathon of “Justified” episodes but rather something more profound: a need to retreat.

Several weeks ago I became a soul-searching wayfarer to the south of England. A solo trip (thanks to my amazing family back home) to make time for something significant in my life that had long been neglected: travel.

My passport had expired, so with a crisply-spined new one, a far too heavy suitcase filled with layers of clothing I would never need (thanks to an unusually balmy UK summer) and my dusty Nikon camera, I tucked myself away in the stunning landscape of Somerset, England.

For two weeks I forsook my normal restrictive diet, daily workouts and work/life routine. Instead, I painted watercolors of peonies and toured historic landmarks. I took long hikes and baked sticky chocolate pudding. I met new people and listened to their life stories. I sat overlooking the sea and had my first Shanty. I started each morning with a cup of black tea with milk followed by many more as the hours went along. I read Agatha Christie novels on the trains to and from London and curled up on the beach, watching waves and drinking Heinz tomato soup from a thermos. I rode scooters with the local kids and walked to the small village shop (a lot) to buy malted milk balls and local eggs and cheese. I went to outdoor concerts and danced at sunset and rode bumper cars at the local town festival. I learned the proper way to throw a rugby ball and watched my first match with a crowd of Lions fans. I did yoga in a quiet orchard and settled in with a pile of blankets and bottle of wine to watch dusk turn to dark and greet the first star in night sky, followed by hundreds and then thousands of its twinkling friends.
The last time I had lain for hours watching stars in the night sky was in a grassy field in the middle of Guinea, West Africa.

I was 17.

Life happens.

Those things fall by the wayside.

And that’s somewhat regrettable.

 

I’m home now, embracing again the glorious routine of my life. This girl that ran to find retreat in the hills of Southern England is realizing that neglecting the practice of self-nourishment nearly capsized her ship.

I meet hundreds of you at conferences and events and know that I am not alone in this. In the summer issue I challenged you to make time for those things in life that you love. I took my own words to heart, because our goal in life and business should be to thrive, not just survive.

You may not be able to retreat to Somerset this year, but take heart. Your “England” can happen anywhere. I’m finding that a two-hour solo trip to the art museum on a Saturday afternoon or a drive to the grocery store with a slight detour down the bookstore magazine aisle has nearly as much impact as that stroll around Hyde Park did….nearly.

Megan

Issue 2 – Editor Letter

“Time management is budgeting time to increase productivity.”
wisegeek.org

Agreed.
I can see that.
But I’d actually like to challenge that school of thought.
Maybe even re-define it.
What if it was defined this way?

“Time management is budgeting time to decrease productivity.”

 The longer I live and the further I dive into this world of business, trying to gracefully juggle family time, networking events and social obligations, the more I discover that the practice of time management is absolutely essential. To increase play, not productivity.

I am often asked that age-old question, “How do you do it all?” I used to answer with a laundry list of ideas and solutions I use to augment my day, thinking I was truly being summoned to share my wisdom. I would share easy tips for my inquisitor to try, offering simple meal plans and strategies for maximizing a toddler’s afternoon naptime.

But now I answer it this way, “I don’t do it all. But everything I do in a day matters, and I let the rest go.” It’s true. Really. Some days an ice cream date with my boys is at the top of the list. Or standing in the kitchen kneading dough. Or funny banter with a friend on Facebook. Or adventuring out to a remote swinging bridge for a Sunday afternoon hike. Or sending dozens of emails to potential corporate partners. Or researching a future issue idea. Or balancing the checkbook.

Each, depending on the day, has its place. Has its time. Needs its place and time.

Few things are more relaxing or cathartic to me than baking. I yearn for time to sink my fingers into a bowl of cool flour, temper chocolate, proof yeast, roll out a perfect circular crust and pipe icing on a cake. For this issue, I volunteered myself for the job of making the cake recipe. Truth be told, I didn’t really have time for it. Or did I? Absolutely.

I’m so glad I did.

If you aren’t enjoying life now, when will you? If you aren’t managing your time to take in the sunset, walk your dog to the park, watch a Cubs game behind third base, scout out a Saturday auction, catch up on those seasons of Lost you never got around to…float lazily down a river in a canoe, when will you?

Megan

Issue 1 – Editor Letter

“Everything you want is on the other side of fear,” George Addair

Don’t you just love a good quote? Of my many favorites, that quote plays often in my mind.

Less than a year ago I set sail on a journey called CAKE&WHISKEY. The course? Unknown.

I had an idea, a roughly sketched map on paper, guidance from those who had gone before me, and, more importantly, tenacity that wouldn’t let me quit. But along with my sense of adventure and confidence in my ability to navigate the rough seas ahead, there was fear. Loads of it.

Speaking on a CEO panel as founder of a new business publication alongside executives from Microsoft and Goldman Sachs? Fear.

Reaching out to advertisers and sponsors, asking them to believe in the dream and vision of CAKE&WHISKEY long before it reached the public? Fear.

Maneuvering the streets of NYC for the first time, heading into meetings that could potentially launch CAKE&WHISKEY into the stratosphere? Fear.

Watching this first issue come together just as I had dreamed and presenting this “baby” to the world for the first time? Big time fear.

But that quote….that quote was my anchor when fear raised its ugly head. It held my perspective when my focus became too tunnel-visioned that I lost sight of the big picture. It was my voice of reason when I was drowning in doubt.

The truth is, CAKE&WHISKEY is an idea whose time has come and pressing through the doubt, the obstacles and the fear really is everything that I could have dreamed was possible and more.

The cover for our inaugural first issue isn’t just for kicks. As businesswomen, we are overcomers. Whether a venture capitalist in Toronto, a marketing guru in Texas, a pitmaster in Tennessee, a bow tie maker in North Carolina or a military doctor serving in Iraq, we must drown out the voices of self doubt and listen to that quiet inner voice reminding us we really can dream and achieve much more than the world says we can. Trust yourself. Believe in your dreams. Cast vision. Set sail.

And, go ahead, have that slice of cake and glass of whiskey~ there’s definitely fun to be had on the journey.