The good news was: We were close on a lead for a nice house in Dominica, an island we’ve never visited but are curious about.

The bad news is: It’s off. PSYCHE!

It was fun while it lasted. The view from the roller coaster is stunning when you’re on the top and moving slowly. But then, you start falling, falling, falling—SCREAM!

That house is not only too expensive, but it is not yet finished. They say it WILL be by the time we’d get there. But we know islands enough to know…otherwise.

So we’re now looking at about 6 alterna-accomodations on Dominica. You know, jungle retreats, organic farms, little apartments. And the possibility of moving around a lot (yuck!) and gaining a lot of experiences (hit or miss).

Those options all come courtesy of a rental agent there. But there are more questions than answers, again. More unknowns than knowns.

So many dilemmas, so little time. Once again, winter in Minnesota ain’t sounding so bad.

Just don’t ask me about THAT in Jan or Feb.

• ODDS OF GOING: 30%

Well, here we go again.

The stock market, and by that I mean virtually ALL stock markets, have headed south with a vengeance and violence I’ve not seen in my 24 years of holding stocks. .

Does it make a guy rethink flying away and spending buckets of moolah to shirk duties? YES. And how. And yet, if the trip cost $55 and that was all I had left after this stock crash, would I choose to spend $50 of those last dollars on this trip? Damn right!

After all, long-term go-getters expect troubles, and yet stick with their plans (like the 11 Commandments of Fiscal Fitness), even when the world doesn’t cooperate.

So before we get all depressed (like our economy) or fall to the floor (like the stock indices) or cry in our beer (like brokers), I’ll take a few minutes and point out…

10 REASONS WHY THIS STOCK MARKET CRASH DOESN’T MATTER
(Because 10 is not enough)

1. You don’t need the money now. In fact, one should rarely put money in stocks for less than, say, five years (a typical market cycle, so say some).
2. Today’s values don’t matter. What matters is what your investments are worth when you DO need the money.
3. Stocks don’t make anyone rich. Here’s what will: Family, friends, experiences.
4. We knew this would happen. The housing bubble, endless credit, mortgage messes, and more have become a house of cards waiting to collapse.
5. Losses are illusory. You only lose money for sure if you sell at the wrong time.
6. Buy low, sell high. For those with the stomach, now is the cheapest time to buy in more than five years.
7. Worrying won’t help. And we all must learn to cope with this kind of crap that hits the fan over and over throughout our lives.
8. Trust is dead. How can we trust these reckless Wall Streeters, bankers, real estate schmucks, politicians, and other leaders? Question authority.
9. Cash is king. Before investing anything, have several months of savings set aside in boring, safe places.
10. Don’t let your dreams crash. And don’t tie them too much to markets.
11. 55 good things happened today, even if the market did nearly go to 0.

• ODDS OF GOING: 75%…and while I may have to make adjustments to my life and this trip because of the losses, I suddenly feel more stubborn and committed.
• WHAT I’M DOING TO FIGHT MARKET ANGST: Kayaking, meditating, playing with children (who—brilliantly—don’t know or care!), hanging out with friends.
• BIGGEST PERSPECTIVE REMINDER: A dear friend was diagnosed with throat cancer on Friday. Maybe markets don’t matter so much. God bless him. Live for today.

As my family plans our BreakAway, the biggest obstacle still facing us is finding a shanty (or castle—ha!) to crash in after the first few weeks on St. John. We have a few possibilities in play. Hooray!

Do they look perfect? Of course not! Are they for sure where we would choose to go? Heck, no. Desperate and late and frugal as we are, must we try to trust the fates and follow these leads like groupies follow rock stars? Therefore:

• ODDS OF GOING: 75% and holding…

Brrr. Pout. Sigh.

We’ve had some contact with folks who have houses, modest or otherwise, that we thought would be candidates for long-term rental. You see, most places rent by the week—and already have much of their season rented. So we can’t live there. And we don’t want to move around all the time, what with kids and work to do and all.

Anyway, no luck so far. Our alleged angels are either too expensive, not interested, unaligned with our schedule, or all the above. Maybe we’ve picked the wrong place to go. It’s a jungle down there.

We now don’t have one decent live lead in play. I’m like, we could end up living on the streets. Or worse yet, coming home with our tails between our legs to live out yet another tundra winter.

Plan Z, if all else fails, is now an overdue consideration. I love the Caribbean. But maybe she don’t love me. HELP!?!?!

• ODDS OF GOING: 33%, and dropping

The soon-to-be southbound loons were crying before I even got outside today, long before sunrise.

Dew clung to the grass like millions of tears from the heart of the earth.

Geez, I hate to be melodramatic, but it feels worse than that when your camcorder plunges into the lake and loses 9 months of irreplaceable memories. Yep. That’s what we did. And we just got word from the Best Repair Geek that, so sorry, we can’t salvage that data. It drowned. Resuscitation failed. It’s dead and gone.

Good-bye, sweet memories.

NOTE TO SELF AND EVERYBODY: PROTECT YOUR DIGITALIA!

• Lost forever are dozens of hours of kids on beaches, boats, and beds reading stories. Old friends at cabins and new friends in island restaurants. CurlyGirl lost in reverie with dollies and dresses. Drawing sidewalk chalk pictures of the first purple lilacs and blue herons. Birthdays and holidays and graduation from Jump Start.
• Gone are AllBoy’s theatrical dives into the water. His posse and Himself having a party screaming with Tween excitement. Hanging all shy and grinny with GF#1 (while he didn’t know I filmed from a distance). Pitching strikeouts and hitting home runs and playing violin with the orchestra. Using a driftwood stick for a mike and interviewing rellies during a summer reunion.

At least we were there, I guess.

But the memories? Sure, they’re in the head. But the head don’t work so pretty good as it used too—the RAM is nearly maxed out. So in a sense, it’s just gone. Let’s be real: Life in fast-forward means it’s essential to have ways to capture the moment for reverence and ponderance later. Or those recollections decay, like so many yesterday’s roses.

That’s certain a Sabbatical theme I repeat over and over: Log your BreakAway! Log your BreakAway! Your best investment in life is making good memories…because they always appreciate in value as the years go by.

“We SHOULD download that camera soon…”

We said it countless times. But we neglected to take those gold nuggets to the safety deposit box. Forgot to back up. Forgot common sense. Forgot that sh*t happens. Man, does it.

Note to self: Download. Back up. Repeat ad nauseum—to avoid the nausea of lost data.

This life is not, after all, a dress rehearsal. You can’t rewind to relive your kids’ 5th and 11th years. You can only, as time goes by, gather around the screen, the scrapbook, the album, and let the bygone images and silent voices wash over and through you.

We do that. Watch family videos. A lot. Instead of movies and Disney and NFL. It’s amazing how alive it feels—and how much you realize you’ve forgotten while the days and years race by.

Now I must go back outside with the loons and the dew. Right now, they’re the only ones who understand. I’ll try some lakeside yoga. Breathe, bend, groan.

Seek strength. And maybe, just maybe, a stubborn outlook that includes trying harder to savor each moment while it happens…not let misfortune steal it away. Realize that this game is worth suiting up for, and sometimes it takes all you got to get half of what you want.

• ODDS OF TRYING HARDER TO TEND TO TECH TOOLS: 95%
• ODDS OF GOING: 75% (a new high)

Blogging is hard. I wonder if even the monstrous, fearless Paul Bunyan could master it. Oh sure, he could easily handle the lifehacking and workhacking thing. But could his bulky fingers handle the little, lonely keyboard?

Can’t believe nearly a week has gone by and I’ve not written a word. But if I had a dollar for every time I’ve written an entry in my head, well, I might could solve the current economic crisis.

Speaking of, allow me to introduce one of our (very few) FOK (Friends of Kirk) members: The Armchair Economist. He may fill in when this BlogStar is underwater.

Armchair Economist tends to speak in a strong voice, and now strongly recommends you read this excellent editorial by one of the Star Tribune’s editors. It’s about saving for the future, the current bear market, and the risk and speculation we all ingest every time we buy shares.

BTW, the Armchair Economist lives reclusively on a Midwest farm, and shows up in public only occasionally—and usually under heavy guard at the exclusive Rob Roy Club in midtown Manhattan. He won’t say from where he wrote this editorial.

Oh yeah, he’s also a bad keyboarder, so he keyboards ONLY in CAPITAL letters. Sorry for the annoyance; he means well.

MY FRIENDS AND COLLEAGUES:

I HOPE YOU TOOK A MOMENT TO PERUSE THE “BEAR WITH ME” ARTICLE. WHAT A GEM! SUMMARIZES SO MUCH OF WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO SAY IN BETWEEN POUNDING FISTS ON TABLES. TO WIT:

FIRST, PLEASE NOTE THAT OUR WRITER IS NOT A RICH MAN OR WALL STREETER. HE’S JUST A GUY TRYING TO MAKE A BUCK.

SHORT SELLING IS EVIL: SUDDENLY, SHORT SELLING IS SEEN AS UNPATRIOTIC, BAD FOR CAPITALISM, & “GREEDY.” PISH TOSH! AS IF CAPITALISM ITSELF WERE WORKING RIGHT NOW! RATHER, WE ARE SLOWLY SOCIALIZING WALL STREET. AND MUCH MORE. MEANWHILE, THE ENTREPRENEURS WHO GOT RICH OFF IT FIRST SLIP OUT UNMARKED EXITS (WITHOUT EVEN YELLING “FIRE SALE!”) WHILE SNICKERING AND CLUTCHING THEIR CASH. MILLIONS, BILLIONS, TRILLIONS. WHAT A FARCE!

WALL STREET IS A “CASINO”: OUR AUTHOR MR. BANKS (WHAT A RICH NAME!) QUOTES POSSIBLE PRESIDENT MCCAIN AS SAYING THAT CERTAIN INVESTORS “HAVE TURNED WALL STREET INTO A CASINO.” WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, JOHNNY-COME-(NOT-SO)-LATELY, THE STREET HAS ALWAYS BEEN A CASINO. THE ONLY DIFFERENCE IS THAT MIRAGE HAS MANY MORE SCANTILY-CLAD WOMEN ON THE FLOOR, AND THEY SERVE STIFFER DRINKS! ONE MORE THING THEY SHARE: WHAT HAPPENS THERE…STAYS THERE.

AND FINALLY…

BUY-AND-HOLD CAN GROW MOLD: GUESS WHO TAUGHT US ALL TO BUY AND HOLD? THAT’S RIGHT: THE SAME INVESTMENT PROS THAT ARE NOW TEARING DOWN THE WORLD ECONOMY. SURE, IT CAN WORK. BUT SO CAN TAKING A SMALL ALLOCATION AND PLAYING THE VOLATILITY. BUY AND SELL AND VICE VERSA FOR EVERY 3% MOVE THIS YEAR AND YOU COULD BE RICH. BUY AND HOLD THIS YEAR? YOUR 401K MAY BECOME A 104K. FOR THAT MATTER, THE DOW FIRST CROSSED 1,000 IN 1966. IT DIDN’T MEANINGFULLY MOVE BEYOND THAT TIL 1982. HOLD THAT THOUGHT!

IN SUMMARY, MY FELLOW INVESTORS, BEWARE THE BEAR. EXPECT MUCH BULL. AND FOLLOW NEITHER HERD.

GODSPEED, from THE ARMCHAIR ECONOMIST

BlogWriter’s Note: THE ARMCHAIR ECONOMIST has now left the keyboard and gone back into seclusion. But you can reach him though this website, if you dare.

There is hope. We are not alone! Check this out. Check them out! 4 lovely ladies with impressive resumes have found time not only to coordinate outfits and enjoy some champoo, but also to take Big Breaks AND collaborate on a book.

How nice to see that we’re not alone here. And to see that this team effort offers many of the same suggestions you’ll find throughout this site, in my sample chapters, and perhaps wherever you seek inspiration to Run Away. Taking off into your own bliss and space isn’t rocket science, folks. It just calls for you to:

Face your fears:

“Employees actually fear taking sabbaticals more than companies fear offering them.”

How true; how poignant!

Keep a healthy distance from the rat race, even when you must re-enter it:

“Disconnect from the ‘rush, rush, rush, do, do’…for sustaining the post-sabbatical glow.”

Perhaps that’s good advice, if challenging, for most any dang day?

Be true to yourself and capture your inner memoirist by “keeping a daily journal.”

Dig a little deeper; step away and listen to the insights of silence by “scheduling solo, quiet time and a week of full media deprivation.” Media deprivation!?! Ahhhhhh…

Good luck, my friends. May we all find enough courage and make enough noise to change the world…one Sabbatical at a time.

There is hope. We are not alone! Check this out. Check them out! 4 lovely ladies with impressive resumes have found time not only to coordinate outfits and enjoy some champoo, but also to take Big Breaks AND collaborate on a book.

How nice to see that we’re not alone here. And to see that this team effort offers many of the same suggestions you’ll find throughout this site, in my sample chapters, and perhaps wherever you seek inspiration to Run Away. Taking off into your own bliss and space isn’t rocket science, folks. It just calls for you to:

Face your fears:

“Employees actually fear taking sabbaticals more than companies fear offering them.”

How true; how poignant!

Keep a healthy distance from the rat race, even when you must re-enter it:

“Disconnect from the ‘rush, rush, rush, do, do’…for sustaining the post-sabbatical glow.”

Perhaps that’s good advice, if challenging, for most any dang day?

Be true to yourself and capture your inner memoirist by “keeping a daily journal.”

Dig a little deeper; step away and listen to the insights of silence by “scheduling solo, quiet time and a week of full media deprivation.” Media deprivation!?! Ahhhhhh…

Good luck, my friends. May we all find enough courage and make enough noise to change the world…one Sabbatical at a time.

We’re in Countdown Mode now. Less than three months, and we’re not having fun yet.

What happened? Countless obstacles (a.k.a. Big Butts) appear in your path when planning a Big Break. Duh!?! I’ll not list them all for fear of boring you and frightening myself. But today’s, which emerged last evening over dinner in a dark, rude restaurant is this: Communication. If you’re not going alone, you’ll need to talk over stuff like…

• Like…What is Plan Z? Or, can we even get a ticket back home after the 17 days in St. John—if the Sabbatical isn’t happening? See, we still only have on-way tickets. The airlines aren’t helpful. And the Kommittee if not doing the work. Yuck.
• LIKE…Sabbatical aside, how are we, the Family, doing with back-to-school? Oh BTW, we have these two high-maintenance hobbies called children (AllBoy, 11, and CurlyGirl, 5). School has started, but we are all still living like summertime around here. The violin and math book remain untouched. The iTouch is endlessly touched. Even getting to bed is like all-star wrestling. Where’s Alice (from “The Brady Bunch”) when you need her?  Routine can be boring. But it can make matters simpler, and get things done.

But nah, what we’ve got here is not only house-wide failure to communicate, but downright chaos and disorder. Dirty dishes abound. Junk food is ubiquitous. The Kids are so NOT adjusting to the fall regimen, but instead complaining about it all, trying to skip sports, and treating me like the bad cop.

Do these citified brats even want a BreakAway? Would they even groove on daily beach lessons (home schooling) with teacher-Dad? Or would they rather just watch SpongeBob SquarePants reruns?

Please: Don’t answer that.

Meanwhile, my own dreams seem like a school of angelfish getting tangled in nasty nets. And as for my parenting prowess? Let’s just say I’m getting real confident about my kayaking. Solo.

On very little, fitful sleep, these are the questions I’m not loving long before daybreak. Will the sun even come up today? I’m filled with doubt; the pre-dawn sky looks filled with murky haze. An ill wind is hissing and snarling. (Or is that just my children?)

Chance of rain: 70%.

• TODAY’S EMOTIONAL WEATHER FORECAST: Dark & stormy.
• ODDS OF GOING: 33%.
• ODDS OF THIS WEBSITE GETTING LAUNCHED: 25%.
• ODDS OF ME (OR ANYONE) MAKING A ‘CAREER’ PREACHING THE GOSPEL OF SABBATICAL: 10%.
• ODDS I’LL ATTEMPT A NAP TODAY: 100%.

Is it just me, or is Rilke’s first name, Rainer, kind of a downer?

Lucky me. I’ve got a mini-BreakAway in progress, having ditched the relentless routine to sneak in some more summer at lovely Lake Okoboji in Iowa. (Yes, Iowa.) Remember Iowa? The state that first endorsed Barrack Obama and brought you Field of Dreams?

Moonlight Graham: “This is the most special place in all the world, Ray. Once a place touches you like this, the wind never blows so cold again. You feel for it, like it was your child.”

Shoeless Joe Jackson: “Is this heaven?

Ray Kinsella: “No, it’s Iowa.”

Ahh. In that dreamy script. Iowa is not just a state, but a state of mind. Guess what: So are Sabbaticals! They’re not just free time, but a place where “the wind never blows so cold.” Especially for those of us fixing to excape Minnesota in the winter.

So I sit on a deck overlooking a calm lake with a waning moon fading into it, the reasons for a Sabbatical seem clear as the brilliant sky. It’s the relaxation, stupid. A chance to dissipate some mental clouds, if only for a while, if only now and then.

A guy can achieve looser muscles and calmer mindwaves by escaping the daily grind, like I’ve just done by visiting this old, favorite vacation spot. Seems simple enough.

Here at glorious and blue Lake Okoboji, yesterday featured a sweet bike ride on new trails along lakes and through woods. Many a grassy knoll called my name and made me stop and chill a while.

A funky coffee shop (a shrine to Hendrix) provided live entertainment from a family of blonde ladies who served me quiche and salad. (Real men don’t eat salad, right?) Who gets even a slice of all that serendipity on a demanding day at the desk?

Meanwhile, a friend from Mankato escaped his day job and joined me by 2 yesterday. We were cruising on the pontoon by 3. We were out of beer by 5. We did a quick happy hour at the family shanty (named Itldo) before heading to a waterside restaurant for sundown with a steel-drum soundtrack and mahi mahi.

Hmmm, now where have I routinely devoured that before? Ah yes, the Virgin Islands.

An omen? Mahi mahi is by far the most common (and affordable) local fish around much of the Caribbean. (Some call it dolphin fish, which offends some diners so they won’t eat it, even though it has nothing to do with mammal dolphins.) I eat it often on St. John at Skinny Leg’s (one of Esquire’s Best Bars in America—and it even features “same day service!”). Their mahi burger is best with lots of the local hot pineapple sauce.

But back to the here and now: Today will feature golf, more boating, bar hopping, and another fine meal out. Not even sabbaticals promise days this easy and lovely. But they might, right? We’ll only know if we try. Absent my skeds and kids and egos and ids and doubts and pouts, I feel more like trying. Today, anyway.

• ODDS OF GOING: 75%. (What a jump from just three days ago. It can pay to BreakAway.)