Skip to main content

Hello Winter

Dana Point Harbor
“It’s five degrees (-15 below Celsius), winds over 20 mph, a wind chill of fifteen below zero, and snow accumulating up to up to six inches - it’s too cold to go outside!” Just got off the phone with my mother in West-Central Illinois - hello winter. While the majority of the U.S. (30 States) is suffering through frigid cold temperatures and snow we can only guess what it’s like from television. Meteorologists calling this a Polar Vortex, brutally cold air from the Arctic gripping the country.

Concurrently in Southern California we’re looking at crystal clear light-blue skies, 63 degrees fahrenheit, west-north-west winds at six miles an hour, perfect weather for our weekly Sunday bicycle ride. How is this possible? It’s probably a blessing (for the rest of the country) the weather channel does not highlight our weather conditions in Southern California. For those deprived of sunshine allow me to paint you a picture. Preparing for our morning ride, I glanced out my office window to see a young man walking his Husky down the street in front of our house. He’s wearing khaki shorts, a blue tank-top and flip-flops. Not exactly L.L. Bean down winter wear.

Seated on a picnic table at Carlsbad State Beach, in cycling shorts, enjoying a soft offshore breeze, and a warming sun on our shoulders we wistfully scan the beachfront horizon. Mesmerized by Brown California Pelicans, gracefully soaring inches above the crest of a wave, with their six foot wingspan, turning ever so slightly to miss a surfer paddling west in the Pacific Ocean to Hang Ten. This is winter in Southern California.

Now granted, overnight temperatures reach low’s of 45 degrees. This is an excellent excuse for California residents to pull their down parkas, gloves, and stocking hats from their closets. I can hear you laughing. But as the sun peeks over the eastern horizon the mercury quickly climbs to the sixties.

So, to all my family and friends in the areas affected by the cold, fire-up those snow blowers, throw another log on the fire, drink hot chocolate, and dream of winter in Southern California.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Practiced Hands: The 50-Year Warranty

What Doc Burch Taught Me About Staying Active. We talk a lot about "life hacks" these days, but most of them don’t have a very long shelf life. Usually, they’re forgotten by the next app update. But back in 1972, I received a piece of advice that came with a 50-year warranty. It’s the reason I’m still on my bike today, still chasing a golf ball around Carlsbad, and still—mostly—in one piece. The Kick That Changed Everything It started with a literal kick in the pants. A kid at school in Cuba, Illinois, was joking around and caught me just right. By the next morning, my lower back was screaming. My mom didn’t reach for the Tylenol; she reached for her car keys. "Let’s go see Doc Burch," she said. "He’ll fix you right up." Harry E. Burch, D.C., was a fixture in Lewistown. He’d graduated from Palmer College in ’59 and had been our family’s go-to for years. He was a man of practiced hands and steady eyes. After a quick exam and an X-ray, the mood in the room s...

The Language of Home: Building a Sanctuary

This episode is  for anyone trying to find their footing in a new place—whether it’s a new city, a new job, or a new country. The light in Florence, Italy, has a way of making everything feel like a Renaissance painting—the golden hue on the stone, the steady rhythm of the Arno River, and the feeling that you are walking through a history much larger than yourself. I was there to give a presentation to a class of Gemology students. I was prepared to discuss color grading and refractive indices, but not to be outed as a language tutor . Feeling very much like a guest in a storied land, a hand shot up enthusiastically. "You’re the guy on the podcasts," the young woman said, her eyes bright with recognition. "You’re the one teaching us English." I laughed nervously. If you know my flat Midwestern accent, you know the irony here. I am hardly an Oxford professor. But later, as I wandered the cobblestone streets beneath the shadow of the Duomo, the humor faded into a powe...

Stop Buying Rory’s Ball

⛳️  In this episode, why your Ego is costing you 5 strokes a round. I spent last weekend watching the Pebble Beach Pro-Am from the comfort of my La-Z-Boy recliner. It’s a beautiful spectacle. The cliffs, the ocean, the guys whose swing speeds sound like a fighter jet breaking the sound barrier. And during every commercial break, a very serious voiceover tells me that to play like a pro, I need to buy the ball the pros play. They make a compelling argument. They show slick slow-motion footage of a golf ball compressing against a clubface like a stress ball in a vise grip, then exploding down the fairway. Here is the uncomfortable truth that gravity whispered in my ear somewhere around my 65th birthday: I’m not Rory McIlroy. And if you are reading this, statistically speaking, neither are you. The Physics of the  Squish When a pro hits a “Tour-level” ball, they swing upwards of 115+ mph (Rory 123 mph). They possess the violence necessary to squish that incredibly hard little sph...

The Art of the Annoying Question

In this episode, why "Cool" is the Enemy of Growth Last night, Lori and I joined our friends (team #1) in a professional kitchen at Sur La Table in Carlsbad, CA., for a "Date Night in Southern Italy." On the menu: Steak Tagliata, Sautéed Shrimp with Fried Capers, and handmade Garganelli. The experience was amazing, delectable food and an exceptional highlight: the Amalfi Lemon Gelato, complemented by the barrage of questions. When I’m with someone like Chef Gaetano, who’s incredibly patient, I tend to ask a lot of questions quickly. “Why use a fork to whisk the eggs and not a whisker?” “What exactly is the chemical transformation of a fried caper?” “If I roll this Garganelli a half-inch wider, does the sauce-to-pasta ratio collapse?” I could see the look on a few other students' faces: Is this guy for real? Just eat the shrimp, Patrick. But here’s the wisdom I’ve gathered after nearly six decades of being the annoying guy in the front row: The quality of your l...