The guy in charge of having them printed up has been harshing my mellow, though. When I first asked about it, he said, "I don't think you get business cards." When I found out that I should have gotten them, he said "I guess I can put you on the list..." as if I was asking him to do something shady. I said "You don't have to put me on the list, the next time HR sends the list around, I'll be on it." He just looked at me skeptically, totally not believing what I was telling him. So finally today he hands them to me and says, "What are you going to do with them?" because in case I missed it, I am NOT IMPORTANT ENOUGH to have business cards and can have NO POSSIBLE USE for them.

The really odd thing is, does anyone really have a super-urgent need for business cards? How much networking does the average business-card-haver do? And what does he think I'm going to do with them? Mail them to Donald Trump? Leave them on the nightstands of all the men I pick up in bars? Roll around naked on them? Maybe there is some secret way to use business cards that I don't know about because I am A PEON who SHOULD NOT HAVE them.

It's just such a rhetorical question. I'm going to do what everyone else does with business cards: put them into fishbowls in the hopes of winning a free steak dinner. What else is there?

And speaking of dinner, and speaking of being fancy, and speaking of you all totally not going to believe this because it is unbelievable: I cooked a meal for my friends. I cooked five courses, and every single thing I cooked came out right. I even cooked risotto, people. From scratch!

It may not have been the most earth-shattering meal my gourmand friends have ever eaten, but for me, this is earth-shattering. I cooked things, and they came out cooked. Nothing was charred, scrambled, frozen, half-raw, or covered in feathers. I mean, seriously. Momentous.

The occasion was my (overdue) turn to cook Mas. We have a different Mas every month. Tablemas was the first one. Then Chairmas. And S'mas, Flowermas, Brunchmas and Iggymas. (Some of those names are unofficial.) Mine was (and this one is official) Low-Expectationsmas. Foo generously loaned me her kitchen and her hands, with which she helped chop and grate things all day. (We cooked ALL DAY. How do people do this?)

The menu, which was typed up lovingly by my sous-chef (foo-chef) but which we couldn't print out, was as follows:

I don't have a picture of the soup. The closest I have is me, chopping mango for the soup:

I also don't have a picture of the salad. But here I am, whisking the dressing:

The zucchini was a very pleasant surprise. The soup was zesty and interesting, the salad was sort of your standard salad, but the zucchini was stellar. It is a recipe that I would actually give to people if they wanted to know, what's a really FANTASTIC way to cook zucchini? Here it is (before and after):

The risotto was not as scary as I had built it up to be in my head. My boss talked me through the entire thing, giving me two very important secret tips. One was to do mise en place, which is fun to say and means to have every single ingredient pre-measured, chopped, poured, and ready to go before you start cooking. I bought tiny pie tins to do this. Here is a picture of the mise en place:

I did a variation on the recipe and steamed some asparagus to add to it. I really love risotto. And I love lemon. The lemon-asparagus risotto was just as good as I hoped it would be!

For dessert, I made individual tiny cakes. Here is the magic:

They were SO GOOD. And very easy to make. They have to be refrigerated for five hours before serving, but other than that, they are--pun not intended, but appreciated--a piece of cake.

As it turns out, I am NOT HOPELESS when it comes to cooking. I may, however, be lazy. Because I am sort of glad that I only have to do all that cooking once every six months.

The other project I have been working on is making my Journalcon swag. Look how cute! Thanks Shannon!