Well, my attempt to bake those cookies didn't turn out like I hoped, but that's perfectly fine by me.
For whatever reason, the mix didn't rise in the oven -- it spread, thus making the entire baking sheet a thin, brownie-like crust. Alas, everything was still edible (albeit very rich-tasting right out of the oven) and I made due as I cut up what I had into smaller parts. Stacking everything I had onto a plate made it look like a nuked chocolate cake. So I put them into two small bowls and they looked surprisingly attractive.
The party went very well and plenty of food was consumed, but there's still plenty of leftovers. As a matter of fact, if it weren't for office breakrooms, I think we would have had enough desserts, beer and appetizers for two months.
Some thoughts came into my head about trying in general and not feeling shame or disgust because not everybody ate what I made. If I was hung up on approval and basing all the eating habit actions of the party attendees on me and me alone, I'd probably be royally pissed. But I'm not. I wasn't seeking approval -- I saw attempting to bake those cookies as a chance to do something else from what I normally do (which is not bake and just show up). It was something I might -- sarcastically gasp -- fail at, but I didn't care to be tied down by shame. Thinking about it now, I believe there's some mental headway here that goes beyond cooking . . .