We’ve lived in San Diego for 6 years.

Moving here from Detroit I had little doubt we’d get access to great Mexican food. Truth be told, Detroit was mostly lacking in ethnic food options, so moving somewhere with a lot of ethnic diversity was a big win.

But a pleasant surprise in moving here has been discovering the incredible food from Southeast Asia, especially Vietnam.

I’m in love with pho. (pronounce like the first half of the “f” word) Pho is a simple Vietnamese dish, the base is a bowl of hot vegetable broth and noodles. You flavor to your personal taste with a plate of veggie condiments and a cut of meat. I like raw beef, the thinly sliced steak is served raw but cooks in the hot broth at the table. I’ll let Anthony Bourdain explain to you why it’s one of the best foods in the world.

The star of the show, in my opinion, is rooster sauce. Formally known as Sriracha by Huy Fong Foods, rooster sauce helps you flavor relatively bland pho as hot & spicy as you’d like it.

Sriracha is a Thai chili sauce that is a perfect mix of flavor and heat. Yes, it’ll absolutely make everything it touches hot. But it’s full of flavor, too. A small streak of Sriracha in my bowl of pho is just enough to bring all of the other flavors, the broth, the meat, the basil, the fresh jalapeño, and the sprouts together.

Settling Into Mid-Life

I’m 38 years old.

When I was 19, half a lifetime ago, I remember my psychology professor at Moody explaining the mid-life crisis. “You start to approach 40 and you realize… life is half over… and it’s not turning out the way you’d hoped. And you panic.”

And you know what? I can look around at some of my cohort, folks I graduated high school and college with, and think: Yeah, they are settling.

By your late 30s you’ve experienced some triumphant moments and tasted true failure, maybe even the depths of misery. Maybe a marriage didn’t work out? Maybe you screwed up professionally? Maybe you thought you could live like the soul-less cast of Friends into your mid-30s without ill-effect?

Plenty of people sail through their 20s without curve balls. But no one gets through 38 years of life easily.

I understand settling. I do. I know it’s easier to find a manageable job, a mortgage, and look forward to a bi-annual trip to Florida.

But I didn’t dream of that as a 16 year old. I didn’t wake up for work at 3:30 am and go to class until 9:00 pm so I could settle for less.

Screw the mid-life crisis. I’m not settling any more now than I did then.

I don’t want to be a greying dork in my 40s who buys a Corvette to look cool.

Settling might be for some, but it’s not for me.

The Fight for Spice

Over the past few years Huy Fong Foods, the maker of Sriracha sauce, has been in a fight for survival. Their plant in Irwindale, CA had been under attack as residents complained about the odor produced in the manufacture of the famed rooster sauce. In response to complaints the local government labeled them a public nuisance and reserved the power to force them to close their doors.

The plant has been there since 1986.

It wasn’t that they were doing anything new or different, though their sales have increased every year.

It’s that they had new neighbors.

See, the problem isn’t the success of Sriracha. The problem is that their community has become inundated with settlers with nothing else to do but complain about the smell.

Their lives in the suburbs are disturbed by the success of rooster sauce to the point that they wanted the plant closed. 

And you know who won? The spice.

This is the problem of the mid-life crisis: When you wake up and the smell of where you are living is making you crazy you need to know something important: The smell has always been there. 

Don’t blame others when you’ve settled for something less, that’s misplaced care.

Instead, go after the dreams you had in 1986.

Fight for your spice. 

Over the past few months I’ve been piecing together everything I’d need to take my kayak out lobster fishing.

For those who don’t live in Southern California, the spiny lobster is a local treat that grows along coastal waters. And while it’s not fished extensively for commercial purposes it is one of the most popular (read delicious) seasons for Southern California fisherman.

The Danger Zone

Lobster fishing is also the most dangerous fishing season in San Diego. It’s popular, which means it brings out lots of boats and lots of inexperienced fisherman. It’s cheap, basically you can only use a hoopnet baited with something nasty like fish guts or raw chicken. It’s easy, a rookie has basically the same odds as someone who has been out 1000 times. And it’s dark, lobster are most active at night.

Last weekend’s opening saw a diver in San Diego drown. And then there was a close call last weekend with one of San Diego’s most experienced kayak fisherman. He got flipped by an unexpected wave, and despite having experience and all the right gear, this video of a local diver helping him shows just how close he was to complete disaster out there.

Watching that video raised my blood pressure big time. Being dark and on the water makes everything more dangerous.

And Saturday, north of Santa Barbara, a kayak fisherman was attacked by a great white shark who mistook his boat for a seal.

Go Time

My fall schedule is tight. With 6 Cartel events going between September and November amidst the normal day-to-day stuff, I’ve got to jump on opportunities to get stuff done.

So the schedule was just right for me to try to get out on the water last night and catch some lobster. The problem was that I didn’t have anyone to go with me. I even posted on a couple local fishing forums trying to get someone to go with me… nothing worked out.

So a quick trip to Wal-Mart to grab some chicken livers and I pulled into the lot at about 6:30 just as the sun was going down. There were two things I hadn’t anticipated. First, the parking lots were packed. I’d been to that spot several times, even at night, and never seen more than a few cars. But for some reason every family in Point Loma was having a party down by the water last night. Second, I didn’t anticipate the amount of boat traffic. It seemed everyone with a boat was out Saturday night, which meant that the water was very choppy with tons of waves crashing on shore. (A Navy ship was headed out to sea, as well. So there were people there to watch that.)

The Tipping Point

After about 20 minutes of relaying my kayak and all the gear through the parties to the shoreline, sweat was pouring off of me and I got ready to launch. With the waves piling in one after another I put my kayak in the water and waded out a little bit into the darkness of the bay. This wasn’t a surf launch but the amount of boat traffic sure made it feel like one.

As I swung my legs into the boat I finally was seated and ready to go. Just then it became evident that I had more weight on deck than I was used to, making me top heavy. And as I unleashed my paddle to get going I got slapped with a big wave. Literally, a minute after launching, the kayak leaned hard to the right, I couldn’t counter it enough, and I went over the side.

Cuss words.

Really… I was in no danger. My rule is that everyone always wears a life jacket. Plus, I was like 20 feet from shore in a sandy spot. I stood up in the waste deep water, did a quick gear check to realize everything was still in place, shoved the hoop nets back in position, and hopped right back on no worse for wear… just wet!

But, as I started to paddle out towards some sail boats anchored in the harbor, with adrenaline going full blast, I took a little timeout to drink some water and get my bearings.

I desperately needed to calm down. My heart rate. My breathing. My mind. Everything was moving too fast. 

My d5Q Moment

After a few minutes of slowly paddling around things began to fall back into focus. To my right, sailboats bobbed in the wakes of passing boats. To my left, partygoers sipped cocktails under tents while kids ran up and down the beach. To my right, bells, wind chimes, and ropes slapped against sleepy boats. To my left, chatter and laughter

All the momentum in the world was pushing me out to continue with the plan, into the darkness:

• I’d spent money on gear for this moment.
• I’d waited for the season to start.
• I’d run around to get all the last minute stuff.
• I’d practiced for this.
• I’d driven all the way there and spent all the time to get my gear set up.
• I’d even told people I was going out, so surely they’d ask how it went.

But in that same moment I had what I’d call my “Don’t die doing something dumb and dangerous moment“:

• I didn’t have a buddy.
• Lobster season just opened but it lasts until March.
• While I’m an experienced kayaker, I’m not experienced at kayaking at night.
• The ocean is really, really scary at night. It’s disorienting and even though I don’t have a fear of the dark, well… it’s scary out there.
• While I have all the right gear, this is still really, really dangerous.

I like risk, almost to a fault, but I have learned to trust my instincts.

I turned around. The conditions weren’t right. With conditions like that I needed at least one other person with me. At a minimum, the hoop nets I’d brought along were just too heavy for the amount of chop in the water.

By my calculation there was a 95% or greater chance that everything would be fine. Yet there was a legitimate 5% chance that I’d end up tipping again. And, of that, there was a very tiny chance that I’d get into serious trouble. Like if I tipped over and in the course of trying to get back into my boat got exhausted. Or if I tipped over in shallow water I could get stuck on the rocks.

The d5Q

I’m not a super fancy social scientist like Dave Livermore. I’ll never be able to prove that you can measure a cultural intelligence quotient (CQ) like you can measure intelligence. (IQ)

But I do believe some people have high d5Q while others don’t, the “Don’t die doing something dumb or dangerous quotient” is a real thing!

I can think back to specific instances where I calculated a risk and decided it wasn’t worth it. Whereas, I can think of other times where I’ve calculated that risk… a real risk… and everything was just fine.

And I can think of tons of times in my lifetime where I’ve heard of someone dying doing something dumb.

Having high d5Q isn’t the absence of taking risk. In fact, you could have low d5Q if you are overly cautious. (cough, suburban American parenting today celebrates debilitating, very low d5Q.)

High d5Q isn’t about age, it isn’t about experience, it’s something in certain people who look at something and go: “Yeah, that’s not worth it to me.”

The difference between high d5Q isn’t just about one between life and death. It’s just about on-time risk management.

How has high d5Q kept you out of trouble? 

Well, here we are. Heading into week 3 we’re starting to get clarity on who teams are and aren’t. The narratives will start to shift from new coaches and new players to the core of the schedule. Now we will discover who has depth, who has heart, and who will make it to the playoff.

San Diego State

Saturday’s loss to North Carolina left State fans desperate for a scapegoat when there was none. We were the better team. We were coached better. And we had the ball on the 4 yard line with the chance to beat a ranked team on the road.

And, as Coach Long said at yesterday’s Coaches’ Lunch, sometimes your quarterback makes a bad pass and the other team makes a great play.

Even with the loss I liked what I saw. We are a team that is continuing to develop. When I thought about the loss I couldn’t help but realize we’re 1-2 dynamic players from making that next step and consistently competing with– and beating– P5 opponents. When our star wide receiver went down with a broken collarbone, the talent level dropped significantly enough where that back-up WR got beat on the key play and we lost the game. But a key transfer or signing a local 4-star wide receiver? Well, we win that game.

Notre Dame

I kind of wish we’d run up the score a little more. We didn’t just beat Michigan, we completely humiliated them. The Irish gave Michigan their worse loss in history and the first shutout since 1984. You know it’s bad when the hashtag #firehoke had thousands of posts starting at halftime. Look, I don’t like Michigan generally and I think Hoke was good for SDSU but I’m not a fan of how he left State… so I can’t wait to see him get fired. That said, good luck to Michigan the rest of the way. For ND’s sake I hope they win ’em all.

Is Notre Dame set to run the table? No. Their schedule is just too grueling down the road to conceive of winning them all. Ahead they have Stanford, Florida State, Arizona State, Louisville, and USC. If they run the table… we won’t need a playoff. Just give them the rings. But they aren’t that elite team they were in 2012. They are good. And I think they could have been elite if not for the players suspended. Get them back and we have a shot. But without them I’m not seeing it.

Results

Week two was BRUTAL for my picks.

Week two: 3-10

Season total: 3-10

Week Three Predictions

Note: I’m trying to pick games that matter and skipping ranked teams against lesser programs.

Purdue vs. Notre Dame – Irish (this game is always closer than it should be)

Houston at BYU – Cougars

Ohio at Marshall – Ohio

Boise State at UCONN – Broncos

Louisville at Virginia – Louisville

Georgia at South Carolina – Cocks

Iowa State at Iowa – Iowa

Illinois at Washington – Huskies

NIU at UNLV – Rebels

Tennessee at Oklahoma – Non-Boomer Sooners

UCLA vs Texas – UCLA

Arizona State at Colorado – ASU

Nevada at Arizona – Reno

Who is your top pick of the week? 

Along with my kayaking obsession I’ve been getting into fishing San Diego’s bays. I’ve been mostly out looking for spotted bay bass, but I’d eventually like to go out a little further for some of the bigger fish people are catching on kayaks. And I’m going to try my hand at catching local crab and lobster, too.

I left the house really early last weekend. On Saturday Paul and I left about 6:15 to get to Shelter Island early. Then on Sunday I left the house at 5:00 to get to Chula Vista before sunrise.

Sunday morning, with my kayak strapped to the roof of our minivan and my fishing gear in the back, I blurry-eyed drove through the sleeping streets on my neighborhood to the our local gas station. I got some gas and then headed inside for a cup of coffee.

As I doctored up my coffee the clerk came out from the back room to ring me up.

Me: Are you just starting your shift or finishing it?

Clerk: Hopefully I get off in about an hour.

Me: Dude, I feel you. Worked the graveyard for a few years back in college.

Clerk: It’s not too bad. I kind of like it.

Me: Yup, I get it. You trying to get off the graveyard?

Clerk: For like two years, man. But they just haven’t moved me yet.

Me: Thanks for the coffee. Keep working hard, good things will happen.

I got back in my van and started driving towards Chula Vista, thinking about the man pulling a graveyard shift on El Cajon Boulevard. No one likes the graveyard but it’s absolutely necessary. People who work the graveyard always hold out hope that they’ll get moved to the daylight. But the simple truth is that as a manager, when you find someone who is willing and will do a good job, you never want to move that person. It’s a rare breed. So for that guy, working a dead end job stuck in a dead end shift on a street known for it’s near constant stream of johns looking for prostitutes… he’s going to have to quit to do better. He knows it. Everyone who works the graveyard knows that you can do the graveyard forever.

Remember the Graveyard

Have you ever worked the graveyard?

I worked the graveyard from 1997 to 1999, 10 PM until 6 AM. Then from 1999 to 2002 I worked from 4:00 AM until noon. The last year of it I was joined by a fellow youth ministry friend, Jon Potes, as we were both working on our undergrad at Moody.

Here’s the thing about the graveyard: No one likes it. But you learn to like it. It’s a place of independence. It’s a place of getting stuff done. And it’s normally a place without bosses. (Technically, I was the boss. But I worked hard to pull my weight and not just be “the boss.”)

In every town, big or small, there’s an all-night population that does a lot of the grunt work that you or I rarely see. These are people who work all night at gas stations, convenience stores, factories, security, hospitals, utilities, public works, delivery, and a whole lot more… and their existence is nearly invisible to people who have never worked the graveyard.

People who work the graveyard have a camaraderie. No matter your role, you also identify with other people on the graveyard.

• You don’t talk about being tired.
• You try to keep busy.
• You take a lunch break and call it lunch, even if it’s at 3:00 AM.
• Some people sleep when they get home, others the afternoon.
• You need the radio or something that keeps you engaged.
• You learn to dread days off because it messes up your sleep schedule.
• You learn to love the independence, the lack of supervision, the lack of distraction.
• You learn to take advantage of the shift. I used it to complete college, taking classes when I got off work. I also played a lot of golf in the summer, I could be at any course in Chicago by 1:00 PM most days.

The Blue Collar Shift

Even if you’re a doctor delivering babies every night, the graveyard is a blue collar shift. You get to know your city in a completely different way. I knew cops, restaurant workers, grocery store stockers, cab drivers, dudes who worked at places I’d never go into… all kinds of people from working the graveyard.

Remember these people. Without them, your city would be a much less hospitable place.

I don’t care how old or young you are. I don’t care how many degrees you do or don’t have. I don’t care what position you hold or how many people work for you or how amazing your fans say you are.

Whether you’re a high school dropout or a professor with three PhD’s: Learn or die. 

If you’re a rookie or a veteran: Learn or die.

If you’re first-year or tenured: Learn or die.

If you’re in the mail room or the CEO: Learn or die. 

Sometimes I bump into people who think they are beyond learning something new. They think, “I know what I’m doing. I’m doing just fine.” But they are coasting. They are being lazy. And they won’t see their arrogance for what it is until it’s too late.

No one is impressed by what you did last year. No one cares that you’re holding ____ credential. Results are not dependent on what you did years ago. They are dependent on what you do today.

Learn or die.

I like big and fancy things as much as the next person. But sometimes it’s the little things in life that just rock.

Here are five simple pleasures I’m digging right now.

1. Evening walks with my lady friend. Seriously, it doesn’t matter what happened good or bad during the day. But a nice long walk with Kristen is perfect for enjoying. And the fact that Jackson and Stoney get to go, too. That’s awesome, too. 
2. Morning coffee. Oh, I’m sure there’s a study that’ll tell me that my morning cup is going to kill me. But whether it’s a cup made at home on our french or a cup made on the road with the Aeropress, every day starts off right with joe. (Added a travel grinder to my road kit. Praise be to God.)
3. Hammocking. We desperately need a way to hammock at home. But setting up and/or sleeping in my hammock is something I look forward to a little too much. We love hammocking so much that we just bought hammocks for the older kids, too. (Cough, we don’t like sharing.)
4. Netflix/Amazon Prime Video. It’s amazing how much great stuff you get so cheaply from those two services alone. About $200/year and you get about 6 bagillion shows. (Just started House of Cards)
5. Digital/Print magazine subscriptions. Right now I subscribe to Wired, ESPN the Magazine, and National Geographic. It’s crazy how cheap these are and sometimes I like to flip through the actual magazine… but I also really enjoy reading them on my iPad, especially if I’m on the road or just needing a little quiet time at a coffee shop. (

Bonus! Combining Things

A cup of coffee, my hammock, a good magazine, followed by a long walk and a movie with my honey? Are you kidding me? A little slice of heaven.