Queenie Takes to her Bed

It's a world of cold and flu out there, but thanks to the homeopathic remedy, Oscillococcinum (Oh-sill″-oh-cox-see′-num), and a laptop computer, I am really just using this as an excuse to catch up on two favorite activities: reading and writing. In bed.

Usually I know when I'm going to come down with something. If my sister, Bridget, had been around the other night she would have asked me if I weren't overdoing it, just a bit. And I've been on a huge exercise jag. That's really not like me; I should have known just from that that I was getting sick.

Bridget, who adores pointing out our genetic inadequacies, insists that I am even more manic than our brother, Mark, an ardent climber who is on a first-name basis with many a Sherpa but can't find his way around a grocery store. And never mind keeping in touch with his bevy of sisters. Mark has been married three times which I think qualifies him for the first prize, but a brother gets all the slack in our family of mostly women.

Truth be told, there is an exhilaration to illness that I sometimes really enjoy, though only in small doses (like a day or two before boredom sets in). Sleeping and waking, odd dreams and then the feverishness -- I like that creative energy. Plus there's all that time to leaf through the stacks of books beside the bed and take notes, pen a letter, write a blog and take another nap. Heavenly!

I've been reading through travel essays thoughtfully provided by Peaches in the form of Houghton-Mifflin's 2007 edition of The Best American Travel Writing edited by Susan Orlean, whose work I really enjoy. In her introduction she writes about her travels to Bhutan in a wonderfully self-revealing way that just makes us love her all the more. Oy, the mistakes we've made in love and in travel. And Oh, the fun of reading about some one else's.

I think I picked up this anthology because I remembered Ian Frazier's contribution, A Kielbasa Too Far, in which he writes about illness while traveling. In my fantasy mind, powered by a slight fever (and perhaps too much caffeine mixed with the homeopathics), I like to pretend I'm actually off in some exotic location. The truth is, of course, I don't really want to be in Russia while not feeling well. I am just as glad to be at home in New Hampshire, being nursed by a small and loving dog who knows just how to lie down on my feet to warm them.

Jonathan Stern's piece from the New Yorker, A Lonely Planet Guide to My Apartment is hilarious. There is also a very poignant piece included in this collection about Steve Vaught, Fat Man Walking, I can't believe I didn't know about this man's journey to walk across America! This I attribute to not having a television and just living in a world of too much information in general. Steve refers to himself at one point as Forrest Lump. He was depressed and miserable in his life, and yet beholden to the many people who felt inspired by his quest. I can't help but think he and Doris Haddock, Granny D, should get together to discuss their walks across America.

The Cupcakes are familiar with Elizabeth Gilbert, though I think mostly we talked about that off-line (I can hear Bridget now, "Maggie, keep your mouth shut."). Gilbert's essay about eating (and drinking, a lot) while walking the Grande Randonnée in the South of France was a lot of fun to read. I also enjoyed her bio, which is much, much longer than most of the others.

Okay, I'm a writer and I am sick, so I counted. 177 words to, say, 18 for Ian Parker, who cuts right to the chase. He is a staff writer for The New Yorker. He's British. Enough said! My favorite line in Elizabeth Gilbert's bio: "Much of her writing has been optioned by Hollywood." Is that supposed to be a good thing? Julia Roberts will star in Eat, Pray, Love. I'm probably just sore because Hollywood did such a lousy job with Susan Orlean's book, The Orchid Thief. Maybe I live on my own planet. Maybe it's the Lonely Planet for a good reason!

Ann Patchett's bio, by the way, is a very well-balanced 33 words. It was reading her piece between naps this morning that made me realize I should write a quick Cupcake blog. She's contributed quite a bit to Gourmet Magazine where this essay, Do Not Disturb, appeared. It's all about hiding out at the Hotel Bel-Air in LA to try to get some work done. How Cupcake is that?

"But sometimes it is the wonderful life, the life of abundant friends and extended family and true love that makes you want to run screaming for the hills." -- Ann Patchett

It's the Marriott Syndrome. Really it occurs to me that I can get the kind of time and space I need to read and write without going to the trouble of getting sick. It's as simple as checking into a Marriott or some other hotel from time to time, with a big stack of books and some legal pads. Maybe a splurge on some fancy Post-Its just to live it up a bit. Could I actually be missing hotel life after all those years of business travel?

Here at home there are no worries about a team of maids trying to clean my room. Okay, I want that; bring them on. I do have an adoring dog at my feet, but I could use a vacation from the barking and letting out and in again. And while I know room service is usually over-rated, it's still fun. I wouldn't want to be sick while traveling, but a checking in for a well-visit may well be in my future. Lest I go screaming for the hills.