Life in the Castle

Being married to a doctor has its perks. Tonight we are sleeping in a castle. Well, a chateau, actually. On the lake in Branson, Missouri. But it looks like a castle from the outside, and it feels pretty opulent in our room. We are here so Wendell can attend seminars to catch up on the latest in medical advances and so I can write undisturbed for hours at a time. The great news is this: The extravagant room is a business expense, so the office is paying. The bad news is this: We own the office. So, technically, the whole working vacation is really coming out of our pocket either way. But we sure notice it less when it comes out of the pocket on the business side of our suitcase.

I admit I like this stuff. Fancy hotels, a reasonable excuse for room service, and the whole heady environment of hanging around people the whole of our society considers important. Or at least expensive.

This evening we strolled through the grand hallway to the conference desk. We passed a water fall, exotic birds, ornate tables, and plush chairs. Eventually, we reached the display honoring the out-going president of our state medical society. We actually know the guy. In fact, we hung out together when our children were younger. He even delivered one of our babies. And since I'm pretty easily sucked in by all the glitz, you would think this would have put me over the edge.

Instead, it brought me right back down to earth. Because there was Rex, posing in all his cowboy glory complete with hat, boots, and his favorite Missouri mule. That is when I remembered Wendell and I are just a couple of country kids out on the town. We'll go back in a few days to our two-bedroom house at the edge of the cornfield, and we will be extremely glad to be home. 

But, for now, I'm going to revel in the castle and the man who married me thirty-five years ago next week. That's my kind of fairy tale.