YOU ONLY HAVE TWO HOURS TO WRITE

Pretend your ass is glued to the desk chair. Decide you need some coffee. Talk yourself out of coffee.

Find a Post-It you wrote a few weeks back that says "I am my varicose veins. I am my thrashed breasts." Crumple it up. Throw it across the room.

Question your writing. Question your outfit. Question your parenting.

Talk yourself back into coffee. And back out. And back in.

Walk towards the kitchen. Glance at the unfolded pile of clean laundry on your bed. Yell out, fuck off.

Stop in front of your bookshelf. Grab a pile of books you haven't read since before you got married, before you had babies.

Enter the kitchen. Put the kettle on for coffee. Fly up into a handstand.

Breathe so deeply that your bones quiver. Breathe so deeply that you cry.

Sing that song from "Rent" about measuring a year in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.

Float down. Float up. Float down. Do 20 pushups. Wipe drips of sweat into your hairline.

Walk over to the russet potatoes that you need to bake for dinner. Wonder how it is that you're 43 years old and you still don't know how to bake a potato. Stab the potatoes all over with a paring knife because that just seems like the right thing to do. Throw them into a hot oven. Wish them luck.

Try to remember why you left your desk in the first place. Pull down a box of See's Nuts and Chews. Eat a dark chocolate almond caramel beauty. Crave coffee.

Right. Coffee. That's why you're here.

Refill the kettle because the water has boiled away.

Hunch over the kitchen counter and read an entire book of Sharon Olds's poetry.

Refill the kettle because the water has boiled away.

Hoist groan your body up onto the kitchen counter. Re-read the poems about first sex, first love.

Exhale your head down into your hands. Feel a first-sex first-love revisionist tidal wave flood your atmosphere. Ask yourself if it really was that dreamy that beautiful that drenched in shakiness that perfect.

Eat more chocolate.

Refill the kettle because all of the water has boiled away.

Take the potatoes out of the oven. Cut one open. Compliment yourself on accidentally cooking them perfectly. Scoop out their interiors. Whip the steamy mash with butter, creme fraiche, salt, and chives. Fill the emptied skins back up with the herby mixture. Top with white and orange cheddar. Drape with prosciutto. Bake.

Look at your reflection in the kitchen window. Trace a prominent vein from clavicle to pec to bicep to tricep, bumpity bump bumping your way down through moles, wrinkles, sun spots.

Say out loud what you never allow yourself to say in front of your children. I am so fucking old. I am so fucking old. I am so fucking old. I am so fucking old.

Hear your son and daughter arrive home from school as they slam the front door and stomp clomp crash bang up the stairs.

Give up on your cup of coffee and start making a gin and tonic.

Eat the crispy prosciutto off of a potato.

Smile.

Yell out, dinner!

DOUBLE-BAKED POTATOES WITH HERBS, CRÈME FRAÎCHE, CHEDDAR, AND PROSCIUTTO
printable recipe

makes 6

ingredients:
4 russet potatoes
1/3 cup crème fraîche or sour cream
3 tablespoons salted butter
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 cup chopped herbs (any combination of parsley, chives, scallions; make sure to save a bit for the garnish)
2 cups grated cheddar (I used a combination of orange and white)
10 paper-thin slices of prosciutto

directions:
Preheat over to 375°F.

Scrub potatoes clean. Dry. Poke them a few times with a paring knife or fork. Place in oven. Bake until cooked through (about an hour). Test doneness by making sure a paring knife slides in easily. Remove from the oven. Cool for a few minutes before handling. Halve lengthwise. Scoop cooked potato into a mixing bowl, being careful not to break the skins. Add crème fraîche, butter, salt and herbs. Either mix by hand or in a standing mixer. Don't mix for more than few seconds because potatoes do funny scary wacko things when whipped too vigorously. Taste. Add more salt if necessary.

Turn oven up to 400°F.

Examine your emptied potato skin bowls. Discard the scrappiest two. Fill the remaining 6 potato skin bowls back up with the creamy buttery herby potato mixture. Top with grated cheddar. Tear the prosciutto slices apart into thin strips and drape several pieces over each potato. The heat makes them shrink up quite a bit so put on more than you think you need.

Bake until they're piping hot, the cheese is melted/browning and the prosciutto is crispy. This only takes about 15 minutes. If you want a bit more color, broil briefly. Garnish with chopped herbs. Eat as soon as possible. Don't eat the skin. Unless you're my daughter.