from my head down to my legs.

So there's this party this evening, actually, it's more of a get-together. A potluck get-together, where there will be people I know and like. A true Methodist never says no to potluck.

I guess it's a Christmas deal, but I decided to make devilled eggs, because they're good, because they are what make potluck. Plus, they look easy enough.

Now, I've never made devilled eggs, but I have my trusty Better Homes and Gardens cookbook with the red gingham cover that will tell me what to do down to the simplest part, just in case I have to consult it on, say, how to hard-boil eggs. Plus, Ashley is here, and she can stand by and make sure I don't do anything stupid.

The point here is that I don't cook much. I really don't cook ever, and while things I make generally taste good, they look a bit rough and take about three times the amount of time to make than they should. But I'm getting there.

I was also undertaking eggnog. Someone suggested it, and I volunteered to bring some, thinking I would just pick some up at the store. Then they said it was much better to make it, and I was stuck. Then there was a lengthy discussion on salmonella, and I, with my great love of cookie dough and cake batter, did not partake. I have strong opinions regarding raw eggs and their consumption, and I didn't want to hurt any feelings.

So Ashley and I made a list of what we needed and headed down to the Winn-Dixie to pick up our items. We bought 3 dozen eggs, a gallon of milk, paprika, whipping cream, and nutmeg, which, by the way, is ridiculously expensive. But I was feeling the Christmas spirit and only grumbled when I didn't think anyone could hear me.

And then the joyous ritual of making holiday party food began. Except not. It would be inaccurate to say that I had two left hands in the kitchen, even with apologies to all the southpaws that such a phrase would offend. It would be much more accurate to say that I had no hands at all.

I'm pretty useless. But I try hard, and I want to do it. But still, Ashley did most of the work. She showed me the best way to peel hard-boiled eggs and the proper way to fill the eggs. I'm not sure who teaches her all these little tricks, but I sure would have appreciated it if they taught me some. I tried to do as much as I could, but in some cases it was near hopeless. After crushing the first egg in my hands, I separated one egg successfully to prove that I could and then let her take care of the rest.

We were both frustrated by the end. I felt like I was about five years old. I would try to do something, and she would ask if I knew how. Which would make sense, if I were not cutting eggs in half. There's a difference between inept and mentally disabled.

But you have to give her credit for doing so much of the work and remaining relatively patient making food for a party she wasn't even attending. And I would like to have done it all myself, but it would not have turned out as nicely as it did. If I were just making it for myself, that wouldn't matter, but others probably don't find egg shells in their food as charming as I do.

The egg nog will be tricky. It's chilling right now, but I have to finish it myself, since I'll have to do it at the party itself (Notice my frustration with not being able to do enough and how well it goes with my fear of doing anything by myself). I'm preparing to make a big fool of myself, so I'm going early to limit the crowd. We'll see.

Cheers!