An Extravagant Hunger

Tonight as I was driving back to Mt. Pleasant, I listened to Radio West about a biography of M.F.K. Fisher, the food writer, called An Extravagant Hunger.   I had never heard of Ms. Fisher, which seems a loss on my part after hearing what a wonderful writer she was.  I might have to track down some of her books at the library.  As I listened to Anne Zimmerman describe her interest in Fisher and her search to understand a complex woman, I could hardly sit still.  It was one of those shows/topics/moments that made me want to be creative.  Could I be a Fisher and write wonderfully about food or perhaps a Zimmerman and document an extraordinary life?  What marvelous work is inside me?  I wish I could take something that I feel passionate about and turn it into something that makes other people feel passion.  Unfortunately, the thing I feel most passion about is being a wife to my husband and a mom to my kids.  Sure it involves things that are unexciting: laundry, poopy diapers, crying babies.  But there are rarer moments: hearing Kimball sing "Old MacDonald" to our chickens, hearing Stan laugh when I snort because he grabbed my nose, and watching Bryce play with the boys he loves.  It may be a great work on some level (an eternal one?), but I don't think Doug Fabrizio will be knocking on my door asking to interview me.