The VP of Finance and I were having us a conflab the other afternoon - and I guess I should stop right here to point out to any flatlander self-subscribing victims of this newsletter that a 'conflab' is what you call a discussion here upcountry, say for example if you're up eating your lunch aside Third Musquacook Lake and out of nowhere Bill Sylvester drops his float plane in there to see how you're doing and the next thing you know you're in a discussion about the traffic congestion on the road around Seboomook - well, that's a conflab by Maine standards and that's what the VP (Amanda) and I were engaged in when she asked me a critical question. Corporate VPs are like that. They know how to stir the pot; have a knack for kindling a fire under them that need it most. I'm sure glad I hired her. Anyway, she looked at me in that Vice-Presidential way and asked me when was the last time, for the love of Mike, that we put something on sale for you folks. I don't know about you, but when I get blind-sided by a question like that, something straight out of the blue, I've conditioned myself over the years to remain calm and answer confidently so that what I present is an air of confidence and success. This used to work great for me in the corporate world, because I could honestly state, in answer to just about any question, that I had hard-working, intelligent staff members tackling that very problem, even as we speak. These days, however, I look around and all I can see is That Dog, so, sadly, a disproportionate amount of oversight gets laid at poor Jenny's feet. What that is right there, asleep on my left foot as I type this garbage, is a scape-dog. I'm OK with it. Duck season opens on Monday, so there's no way on earth that Jenny will complain. It's perfect.
OK, there's no avoiding VP Amanda's point - time for a sale, so I tossed a few items on a Sale page that's posted only for those of you who subject yourselves to these newsletters. It's not meant to compensate you for the time lost reading this bird cage liner that I write, it's just meant to save you a few bucks and to help us get rid of some stuff that's been around here for way too long. If you've been with us a while you'll recognize a few of the items. Corduroy leather, for example. Should have been a hit, but noisy leather pants just aren't a big seller anymore, apparently. Here's the sale page:
You'll find some printed leathers, leather laces, and belt keepers on there, so it's worth a look. Please. For those of you who subscribe to our antique trunk newsletter, I included you in this just in case you're hunting some leather to cover a project trunk or to wrap one of the grandkids in or whatever.
Big shipment of new leathers coming in next week; might be just what you've been looking for, and by that I mean this may be the shipment that has the lime green lizard-print calf hide that glows in the dark and sparks when you strike it with flint and if you roll it up and toot through it the darned stuff plays Broadway show tunes, and, while we're at it, leave it under the bed at night and it prints money and in the morning it makes sandwiches for your lunch. You know what I mean. The perfect leather. Wish I could tell you what's in this shipment, but I have no idea at all. We'll find out when the doors of the truck get flung open. I say 'flung open' because that's what some of the truck drivers do when I explain about the forklift. If you've been reading these letters for a while you just heard a rimshot in your mind when you read that. I'm here all week.
Cool nights lately, so Jenny's been sleeping by the door, afraid I might go off duck hunting and forget to take her. She doesn't get it - I'm not swimming after those birds. That's her job. Bear season is behind us already - the tally board shows a lot of great naps in the woods, but no bears this year. That's fine. Getting out there isn't about pulling the trigger, that's for sure. If you plan to go afield this Fall I wish you great luck, and great solace, comfort, and success. Come up and join us on the river, and remember that if you miss just blame it on That Dog. She's used to it.
Holler if you need anything-
Brettuns Village Leather
Brettuns Village Trunk Shop