I stood at the prep table, 16 zucchinis before me. With the long, serrated knife, I cut off the ends. I spent a good five minutes just enjoying the peeling; swish, and the peel falls into the bowl. Swish, and the peel falls into the bowl. Swish. Swish.

One lemon, cut in half. Repeat 21 times. One half-lemon, cut in quarters. Repeat 43 times. Feel the lemon rhythm. Cut, turn, cut. Put it in the bowl. Cut, turn, cut. And breathe.

This weekend I made 22 cheesecakes, 22 zucchini breads, 22 of everything. Plated 22 butter pats. Twenty-two fish fillet servings. Twenty-two pickle bowls.

What I didn't make, twice, were oatmeal cookies. On my first day in the kitchen, I added too much brown sugar to the first batch of oatmeal-raisin cookies. I started over, only to have my second batch turn out all thin and crunchy brown on the baking trays. I can make a bowl of oatmeal for myself almost every morning, but oatmeal-raisin cookies defy me, arrogantly. Life Force, allow me to make peace with the oatmeal-raisin cookies so that I may be a versatile and competent baker.

The rhythm of the kitchen is peaceful. Do this one thing, for however long is needed, then clean up. Do this other thing, for however long is needed, and clean up. Put down a clean piece of waxed paper, and start something new. Make cookies. Make tartar sauce. Make meals possible for 180 people. Pace yourself.

Things I did well: mixing, "bowling", "plating", "boating",
baking chocolate chip cookies. Cleaning up after myself. Playing nice with others. Asking questions when I didn't know what to do.

Things I will learn more about: getting cream cheese filling into pie crusts without pulling the crust up. Checking the mixer speed so I don't ever again spray dry brownie mix and water onto myself and all surfaces near the mixer. Drinking enough water while I work. Choosing songs on the iPod that will get me into a groove, and not into a mood.

And Great Wokanda watches o'er.