gingerblaze of glory

A few weeks ago, my co-worker, Nancy, stopped by my desk with a flier in hand. A local art school, PNCA, was hosting a gingerbread contest (Rip City Gingerblaze 2007) and a team from Ecotrust planned to enter. Would I be interested in joining the team? Faster than you can say gingerhaus, I had agreed and even threw P's services into the deal. (I like to think that in speaking his vows to me, P intimated his cheerful willingness to go along with any hair-brained scheme I managed to hatch or get us into.)

It was another week before team Ecotrust had its first formal meeting, during which we accomplished roughly the following:
-We would make the Natural Capital Center.
-We would build it out of gingerbread.
-Some of us had gingerbread recipes that *might* work.
-We would need candy.
Beaming from what we imagined to be a thoroughly successful meeting, we all proceeded to tuck the idea into cozy corners way (way) in the back of our minds. Mine slept soundly there, snugly sandwiched between "learning guitar" and "writing a food-based memoir," until it was rudely awakened by Nancy's panic-stricken voice. The contest was a week away. We had not even begun planning (much less building) in earnest and Ecotrust's very reputation was at stake.

Meeting number two was frantically arranged, at which we accomplished the following (in summary):
-We would make the building in a 2:1 rectangular shape.
-Some of us would make gingerbread over the course of the week.
-We would gather to assemble the Natural Capital Center on Saturday, exactly one day before the deadline.
-We would need candy.

When Saturday arrived in dreary drizzle (this was the day the clouds let loose, signaling the most intense three days of rain I have yet to experience in Portland) I hoped for the rain to turn to a blizzard into which I simply could not venture. Unfortunately the weather, though irritating and more than a little wet, was not enough to justify playing hooky. I dragged myself to our gingerbread construction site and prepared myself for disaster - crumbling gingerbread, garish candy designs, total disorganization, even a food fight or two. I would have been happy leaving the event still on speaking terms with all of my co-workers.

In 7 1/2 hours, I was amazed by the transformation. Like the gingerbread, I was covered in many-colored frosting, seeds, wheat grass, licorice and bits of seaweed; but, believe me, I looked far worse than my architectural counterpart. Furthermore, we merry workers were laughing and joking, not arguing over the sour straws and jellied eyes. Towards the end of the evening, I declared without hesitation that this was, in fact, the best thing that I had ever done. Better than graduating college. Better than getting a job at Ecotrust in the first place. Better than our wedding? P inquired. Maybe. This pronouncement may have been induced by the thin layer of candy dust in the air, or perhaps it was pure exhaustion. Whatever the cause, there was something magical about that afternoon of construction and creative energy. I only pray that the magic holds on just a little longer and cements that gingerbread in place through to the end of the competition.