Last Saturday, I wandered Target Center in Minneapolis at the Chipotle Clash of Champions with 17,000 close friends. This is high school sports on steroids—local phenom hoops team Minnehaha Academy vs. Sierra Canyon (from CA, featuring the sons of LeBron James and Dwyane Wade).

The organizers pulled a Wily Marketing silky smooth move by changing the event from the high school to the downtown arena. Sure, tickets were only $25 (if you bought in-person and avoided TM’s ridiculous fees). And people want to be entertained! Yet this athletics lover wonders when America’s sports appetite will become full or filled.

By the looks of this crowd and other games I’ve attended lately with far more challenging prices and logistics, we are nowhere near the tipping point.

Throughout the past week, a friend has been sending me pics of his Florida beach vacation. He knows my love of all things warm, watery and beachy. He also knows I am mostly stuck in Minnesota during this holiday season, despite years of winter escapes for as long as 355 days. Or 4 months. Or 69 days. The longer, the better!

Things change. While I cherish those memories and pine for long winter getaways, I could do no better than to reply to my friend with this view from my desk—no need for 1,000 words.

Ice fishing BreakAways? Well, why not? For that guy, sitting on a frozen lake and hoping to land something fishy feels like a fun escape. A break from the grind. Some moments of peace and meditation, perhaps. Who needs surf, sun, sand?

I do. Yet I also know some are happy just to ice-fish. And that savvy, sane people pursue BreakAways wherever, whenever, and however.

Christmas means different things to different people, obviously.

As for me, I can’t help but notice that it/sales start earlier every year. And yet…it’s over before it’s over. The parties and gifts: All happen before Christmas Day. The big church services and family events: Mostly on Christmas Eve. The day that most people are ready to “tear down” Christmas décor: The day after.

So it’s only fitting to be late, if only to be contrary. Anyway, for me, the colorful décor and twinkly lights help make Minnesota’s dark and dreary winters a little less…dark and dreary.

And so we might be on time (early) this time: Happy New Year!

See those angels on my piano? I hardly ever see them—because they are hidden inside the upright and only show up when the piano tuner opens up the instrument. It’s always a pleasure. But this time, I learned they’re not. Not angels. They’re flowers! Hand-painted inside this artisanal beauty. Imagine my disappointment—and during the holiday season, even!

Christmas takes a lot of knocks, deservedly so, since commercialism has taken over and drowned out the more celestial messages. So I listen instead to the music, since great Christmas music is abundant and timeless—whether from long-gone composers, Americana crooners, or contemporary creations.

I also enjoy playing Christmas music (especially when no one is listening). Few diversions offer such a complete, if temporary, BreakAway vibe.

One of my musical toys is this here Schimmel piano, hand-made in Faribault, MN. A German maker dating back to 1885, mine was crafted circa 1893, when the Schimmel family expanded to America for a short while and made only about 3,000 instruments. I am lucky to own one. And my Schimmel is lucky to have me—since old pianos often can’t find compassionate caretakers these days.

Got music? Play it. You’ll feel better, and fill your surroundings with angelic sounds.

Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and may the peace be with you.

No, I didn’t climb it. In fact, I had to snap this pic from a moving boat. But you can’t help but stare at the oh-so Baroque Church of Our Savior in Copenhagen. Built in 1617—when the city had already been thriving for some 500 years—the church also boasts one of the loudest carillons in Europe that plays 8 times daily, on the hour.

Alternative living community—busy in winter. “Slab” used to be a navy base; now it’s a seasonal “home” for a counter-culture tribe of nomads and artists. Artful, edgy, fun to photograph. Recommended for intrepid travelers only.

Like my camera-carrying daughter!

Breakaway has already reported on the growing trend of offering sabbaticals as a marketing ploy. But have did you know that 280,000 people applied for airbnb’s sabbatical in Italy? Their mission for the free adventure? “Breathe new life” into the fading hilltown of Grottole—home to 300 residents. AND 600 empty homes!

It’s funny: Pastoral life in ailing Italy sounds like paradise to frazzled people everywhere. Yet in Italy, they seem to be abandoning the old ways and places to race into modernity. Such are the ways of…progress.

I’ve not visited Grottole, but I do love Barga, the Tuscan valley town that’s today’s FOTOFRIDAY pic. Barga is thriving, actually. But it’s surrounded by no less than 9 hilltowns in varying stages of abandonment and decay. Still, like 280,000 kindred spirits, I’d gladly BreakAway to volunteer for three months to help keep old Italy from dying.

Which is it? One rarely knows at first glimpse (of a photo). And frankly, most of us can tire of looking at other people’s sunrise/set pics, right? So you need not look—or read—for long. It’s just that this is what I saw when I reluctantly got out of bed and faced the first snow on the water today. Winter’s battle of restful versus dreadful has begun.

The ice and lake water will also battle like this for, oh, weeks, maybe a month, maybe more. The beauty can almost—almost!—compete with a lush summer day. That opposing season’s warmth and light will return, or so we’re told.

Meanwhile, we’re now officially on thin ice. So be careful. And try to enjoy.

This Friday’s photo comes from a lovely tiny hill town an hour from the Rome airport, making the village the ideal stopover before getting up early and driving to catch a plane. (Remember to return your rental car.) This fall evening was the last night in Italy as part of a four-month RTW trip in 2000/2001.

That fall, Europe was getting POUNDED with terrible weather. The day of this pic, I had driven several hours from Tuscany—hydroplaning and dodging trucks the whole way. So even though I got drenched to capture this picture, I was giddy just to arrive alive.

Here and now, we’ve had record-breaking precip in MN this year. And I’ve sat through many a rain-soaked soccer game to cheer my daughter on—making this 19-year-old image oddly familiar again. Daylight Saving Time has come and gone. And we’ve entered The Dark Daze. But back to our pic: Yes, these guys are warming up to play a soccer game. And yes, they played. The show—the game—must go on!