May 21, 2010 There's an awful lot of days when, despite your best efforts, things don't Go As Planned.  I phrase it this way because that's what most of adult life devolves into-- an endless cyclic string of Plans Made, followed up by hopeful Plan Execution, somewhat annoyed Herding the Escapees, the alarmed Boat Bailing, the inevitable Cutting One's Losses, sullen Beer Drinking and Finger Pointing, resulting in more Plans Made.  Learn about this cycle early on, children, and you might grow up to be one of those who gets to Watch, Point, and Laugh. I explain this to illustrate the vast difference when things *do* Go As Planned. One of the core ideas behind Sablewood Village is the notion that, by helping others, we help ourselves-- that whole networking thing-- and so I find it extremely cool when all the pieces click together in just the right way, at just the right time.  In this case, it started with a phone call one Saturday morning. The woman on the other end of the line introduced herself, told me about an event that would be happening in Dallas that was essentially selling Ireland to the local travel agents, and could I possibly connect her with artisans who could demonstrate traditional Irish crafts?  Needless to say, I happily passed the information to the people I felt best fit the bill.  I then received an email from this woman, who was very pleased with this small service I'd provided her, and promised to let people in her circle know about my website.  No, it doesn't sound like a lot, but success is measured in more ways than just accumulating little green slips of paper. Yeah, I really like it when things Go As Planned.

April 27, 2010 Spent this past weekend at Conestoga, in Tulsa, OK, and got to rub elbows with Capt'n Black's Sea Dogges, Queen's Gambit, and artist Peter Bradley, among others.  Of course, you miss a lot when you're manning a table in the Dealers Room, but then again, that's not always a bad thing.  It gives you time to think, to philosophize (is that a word?), and formulate theories that will never see the light of day (also, not always a bad thing). Myth busting is one of those topics that fell victim to this tortuous use of brain cells on this occasion.  The myth in question: fan boys (& girls) fear contact with soap. Now, normally, most rational people wouldn't expend the energy to rub two brain cells together on this subject, but this was happening in a Dealers Room, so humor me.  After witnessing a marked degradation in some attendees' appearance and aroma over the course of three days, I, being a resourceful individual, hypothesized that, A) a cataclysmic failure had occurred in the hotel's plumbing, affecting only certain guest room showers, B) an alien invasion was underway, because no Terran creature could possibly smell that bad, or C), the poor souls were deathly allergic to soap.  Like I said-- humor me.  It's not like I'm trying to publish a thesis here. As a Public Service Announcement, let me share this thought with you.  That's right, you know who you are.  If you decide to go to a convention or otherwise close-quarters event, great!  Have fun!  But for crying out loud, BATHE.  Little soap bars are even provided with the hotel room, and contrary to any stories you may have heard or invented, your skin won't boil away, trust me on this.  Your friends, who told you that non-stop gaming all weekend without visiting your shower was a badge of honor, they LIED TO YOU.  Care to guess what kind of impression you made on that media guest you cornered for an autograph?  And one more thing: that hot chick you were trying to impress?  Oh yeah, you floored her all right.  She should regain consciousness any day. So, until this little PSA sinks in for the you-know-who-you-are folks, I suppose I have no choice but to vote for the alien invasion hypothesis.  There.  I feel better already.

April 14, 2010 Hello, and welcome to the inaugural edition of The Village Times!  (I considered calling it "The Village Voice," but I'm told that's already taken) To get the ball rolling, I'm going to use the initial entries to share with you a few stories that have encouraged us, and let us know we're having a somewhat greater effect on the world than we usually know. A while back I started carrying costume hats made by a friend, Sharon Sullivan.  Sharon is one of those folks who just positively drips with creative talent, but her chosen outlet was to make hats for the cast of our local renaissance faire, so I had to convince her that her work needed to be seen outside of that narrow niche.  Poke, prod, poke, prod, and she finally agreed.  One of those hats was a sleek little thing called a Biretta-- you'll typically see one on the head of a clergyman reenactor.  Not long after I created the listing, I received an order for one from a fellow in Germany.  I was thrilled!  Sharon was ecstatic!  She made the Biretta, I shipped it, everyone was happy, and the world was good. Time went by as it is prone to do, and one day I received an email from that same fellow in Germany, who reminded me of his purchase.  As it turned out, he collects clergy headwear, and had recently published a book with tons of color pictures of his hats, and... he included that sleek little Biretta on page 84.  Now, maybe it was hearing about that email after a bad day, maybe it was the publishing aspect, or maybe it was just knowing her creation was getting attention on another continent, but what I saw in Sharon afterward was a maturing confidence in her craft that is now bearing some remarkable fruit. Isn't it amazing what a little encouragement can do?