We made a trek to Minneapolis recently, and by that I mean nearly 3 weeks past.

Yes, I'm a bit behind.

Fine.

A lot behind, but now you know and knowing is half the battle - Yo Joe Anyway, the trip itself was eventful, quite eventful actually, but in good ways. The impetus for our excursion was the Minnesota Renn Faire held in Shakopee every year. As usual, it was quite fun especially attired as pirates.

Recent photographic evidence suggests that death rolls in a Ford. Interpret how you will, but I feel the images are conclusive.

I respect his choice economical and reliable. I imagine he finds the sport tuned suspension, modest fuel consumption, and reliable drive train great features. And in the backseat? Pirates of course.

Yes there are still pirates out there, even in Minnesota, and damned souls they are, it is not odd to find several in the presence of death. I know some of you are wondering why they aren't in Davy Jones' Locker- but the answer is obvious. Minnesota is land-locked, and we've seen death's preference for efficiency. My guess is that he's on his way to one of the legendary "10,000 lakes" to cram their scurvy souls into Bob Johnson's tackle box or some such.

My youngest sibling, Heavy Pie, was without costume; the appreciation of a bright red Captain's Coat and Festooned Floppy Hat certainly improved the coherence of our roving band.

On this latest outing, I noticed a trend in dress; that being a marked decrease in the number of costumed attendees. Perhaps it's a matter of timing, after all we did attend the last open weekend, but if the observation holds, it's a saddening prospect. Half the fun of the Renn Faire is dressing up and acting goofy- actually it's kind of the point. Showing up in your ratty jeans while sporting your favorite garishly day-glo NASCAR ball cap defeats the purpose. We started the day with a round of nips from the flask, run of course, and drank heartily from our wooden mugs of Mr. Pib and Spcied Rum. Good times. After 6 hours of rum, mud, and fun, we lowered main's'l and made for berth

Once home, it was time for root beers with rum, and once attired in our street clothes, pizza and Psycho Suzie's. Psycho Suzie's is a tiki bar that serves up a mean pizza, and some meaner drinks. I mean that, too. Mel and I ordered one drink to share and that was more than sufficient- of course, we wound up finishing everyone else's drinks including our own.

Sufficiently lacquered, we made our way to First Ave. for a little house music- which turned out to be a lot of house music. Like a whole bunch. More than enough. A couple of rum and cokes from the bar made the tunes a bit more booty-shakeable. More good times.

The next morning we shuffled into activity, as best as liquor addled brains would allow, and headed out for the Marjorie McNeely Conservatory. As usual we had a grand time and snapped plenty of photos.

Unfortunately the fall sun was intense and low in the sky so a good number were washed out. We grabbed a few goodies from the gift shop, including a very young ficus bonsai-to-be. Not sure if it is going to make it. It's dropped it's leaves, not uncommon for a freshly moved ficus, but it's still worrisome. Eh, we're just not meant to have bonsai and will probably be giving our few little pots away for holiday gifts.