Finger Food

After a somewhat successful six hour car ride, we made it to our CA destination. I say somewhat successful because our seven year old asked continuously, every nine miles, if we were in LA yet. When we tired of answering and tried ignoring him, he thought we were hard of hearing. Finally, somewhere around hour three, he turned his focus to other things and we began to enjoy the journey. Other than one small melt-down he had about mints, the trip was rather peaceful and nondescript. 

It was late in the evening when we reached our hotel and we were starving.  Just across the road was a Medieval dinner theater. The hotel had a half-price voucher and the last dinner of the night was at 8:30. We were in. There were seven in our group and the boys, big and small, were thrilled to be going.  I had gone about 15 years before and thought I remembered eating the entire meal with my bare hands. I talked myself into believing that I was mistaken.

Coming from desert temps well above 100 degrees, the chilly 70 degrees that greeted us was a shock. Like lizards looking for a hot rock, we turned the air off in our rooms and grabbed our coats before walking across the street for our dinner theater experience.  God really does have a sense of humor and used that 70 degrees to remind us that 70 degrees isn't really cold. When they herded us into the dark, medieval arena, it was like walking into a meat locker. My husband tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I could see his breath. I could.

Seated just feet from the arena, the horses and knights came flying in amid clouds of mist and fog. Really, it was spectacular. Each of the knights were dressed in several layers of thermals, topped with armor and a helmet. The meat locker environment was probably perfect for them and by the end of the night, I'm sure that frostbite had attacked my bare toes. The food was delicious, but my memory had served me correctly - they served all of it with absolutely no silver ware. We started with soup and I waited patiently for a spoon. Looking around, I noticed people were drinking from their bowls. My husband informed me that no silverware would be coming. I picked up my soup bowl and partook. The chicken, ribs and potato we consumed like savages, but the whole eating-with-our-hands thing was not at all comfortable for me. The boys were in hog heaven as my husband exclaimed that he had been born too late. Despite the savagery and the frost bite, it was an interesting way to spend the evening and we all enjoyed the experience.

Now, back in our hotel, it's time to focus on an early morning music competition. Buck is nervous and excited. So are we. He'll do great and it's a wonderful experience for all of us. We miss the girls, who stayed home with my mom and we'll keep them updated as the weekend progresses.

For now, exhaustion has overtaken this finger-licking barbarian and I'm headed to my cave for the night.