Joe Kudla - Snot, of Puke and Snot - passed away today.

It's not that I knew him personally, of course. But, love their show, hate it, or somewhere in between, you sort of have to stand in shock at the passing of a legend... and feel for his stage partner, who has performed with him for three and a half decades. That's a commitment that outlasts a hell of a lot of marriages.

So long, Joe - and thanks for all the fish.

Because you just can't get cooler than War for the Oaks swag.

Click here. Buy stuff. It's cool. (Ryna desperately wants an Eddi and the Fey T-shirt.)

And while you're at it, grab the Cats Laughing CD's - especially Another Way to Travel which has songs from the aforementioned awesome book on it.

And get stuff from the Flash Girls too, because they're just that neat.

I've been saying for a while that I'm going to write the (non-fiction) history of the MN Fest. I've even done some research.

This week I figured it was high time I get off my butt and post something... namely, the stuff I've scanned so far.

The site is more function than form at the moment, but hopefully folks will enjoy what's there so far.

The History of the Minnesota Renaissance Festival

There was no 6th weekend.

Or, rather, I wasn't there. My muse informed me that I needed to stay home and write, and I learned long ago that when she says "Sushi!" -- I say "How much?"

Seventh weekend was a blast... full of one-final-chance-to moments, as always.

The only real downside (aside from the cold and wet on Sunday) was a couple guys who seemed to be *right there* every second time I turned around. Neither of them has done anything blatantly over the line, but it's getting past the creepy point. I can never seem to find people I LIKE that frequently. And it only happens when I'm not with Nikolai.

Oh, and I managed to lose my pass somewhere in the last hour of the day. I'm sure the mud will belch it up 20 years from now, and people will marvel at this piece of ancient rennie history.

Still pisses me off.

More than enough good things to compensate, however!

- 7th Moon concert Friday night

- Pennyroyal reunion show on Saturday

- Getting to spend three glorious days with my heart-sister

- Running about searching for Twig so a very cool young lady could meet the fairy before having to go home

- Getting into a discussion with a patron "princess" about the necessity of having different tiaras to go with different outfits

- Watching the tiny pirate (complete with a hook for his hand) scamper back and forth through a huge puddle in front of Mac's.

- My new coin belt! I've been wearing one I never liked for roughly a decade. This seemed, suddenly, supremely stupid. So I dropped the necessary cash to get one from the shop in Cartwheel Cove. It's mostly copper with silver accents and has the loveliest jingle - perfect mix of high, medium, and low tones. For the rest of the weekend, I kept looking around to see who was following me - only to discover it was my own ass. I'm observant that way.

And I think I now understand why some women can drop the equivalent of a car payment on a piece of jewelry and have their mood greatly improved.

Dammit, I'm becoming a girl.

- Purchasing of more music. Can't go wrong with more music.

- Attending the awards ceremony. I remember what it was like getting my Unicorn and having everybody give me the little salute, so I like to be able to pass the good vibes forward. (Plus - it's fun to do the salute, and when else do you get the chance?) I'm always astonished that the people getting them don't already have them. I am so, so not worthy to be counted among such company. (But they'll have to pry the plaque out of my cold, dead hands anyway.)

- VilTen. 'Nuff said.

- Closing Gate. Master Shakespeare makes me cry every damn year. Even though I was cold and soggy and ready for a shower and dry socks and a warm bed... that doesn't mean I was ready for the year to be over.

But it is over.

I'm just going to have to write like mad to make up for it.

Nice weather this weekend again... Saturday cooler than Sunday, although Sunday had the added humor of constructing bunny maracas.

Yes, bunny maracas. Two paper plates with rice between them, a cotton tail on one side and a face on the other. And pink ears.

Of course, after the tenth or twentieth, we started getting a little punchy and making Groucho Bunny, Commie Bunnie, Cuthulu Bunny, Blinkie Bunny (three eyes, three ears), Bling Bunny, and other such nonsense.

You might, of course, be wondering what the purpose of such a thing could be.

That's easy: to annoy Fitz.

You see, Fitz locks himself in a cage for great portions of the day, which makes him a captive audience. Literally.

And, this being the case, Ethel the Nerd last year spent an hour and a half parked in front of his cage, trying to learn Greensleeves on the accordion.

This year the ante got upped, and all sorts of musicians (and people who had no musical talent whatsoever) brought instruments. In addition to the accordion, I noticed two fiddles, a toddler's xylophone, many drums, some whistles of various sorts, a couple guitars (one tuned to DADGAD and played as if it wasn't), and other such horrors. Oh, and a sign that declared this "BAND CAMP".

Our set list included Greensleeves, Beethoven's 5th, The Lion Sleeps Tonight, Johnny B. Goode (including a Back to the Future-esque fiddle solo by Nikolai), a rendition of Smoke on the Water per patron request (most of us didn't know it - but I'm not sure it mattered), a drive-by version of "Blowin' in the Wind" led by Misplaced, and "Ana Gadda Divida" (which I'm sure I just slaughtered the spelling on) because Fitz threatened to "whip it out and spray all of you" if we did it.

I later learned that he'd apparently been just about to take a privy break when we descended. Ah, timing.

All in all, I think there might've been about two dozen of us. And a frightening number of patrons throwing money in the hat (which went to Drunken Uglies, who so graciously gave up the first half of their mead booth set to join - and we couldn't have done it without them, as we would've just run over whomever way playing... which is Not Okay).

So apparently you can get tips either by being really good or sucking to epic proportions.

Only at Fest.

The bunny maracas went to Fitz (some of them anyway) so he could play, too.

And several children.

He kept throwing them on the ground, but Thom Schrampfer's daughter (in her lovely pale blue princess outfit) very kindly kept returning them to him.

So, yeah. Bunny maracas.

Problem is that when you do something that much fun, it sort of eclipses the other fun things you did and you have trouble recalling exactly what they were.

We did play some, and got the Best Tip Ever (aside from the wet sucker, which will always win for the-thought-counts-most award... aside from the sheer cute factor) -- a kind fellow from Terpsichore tipped us a book full of period music written up for recorder & guitar.

Excuse me while I pee with joy. Going to have to learn to read sheet music just for that.

(Yes. I'm music illiterate. Embarrassing, huh?)

I also filled a long-time wish and purchased a full set of the McGregor dice and board games. Had fun teaching several of them to Nikolai in the shade of one of my favorite trees. Oh, and I hit a Terry Foy show so I could grab his two CD's as well.

Two weekends left. I might not come home with everything I wanted this year, but I'll have made a darn good effort.

And I think I haven't actually picked anything up for about three years, so I'm more than due for a bit of shopping.