In 2003, I started a new job as an instructional designer at a creative agency called Via Training. It was one of those magical workplaces filled with smart, nimble people buzzing with energy and ideas. I was a bleary-eyed new mom looking for a fun tradition to one day share with my daughter.
Then I spotted a flyer for an office pumpkin-carving contest.
“It’s in the bag,” one coworker alerted me. “This one guy wins every single year. No one can beat him.”
With my quiet but hellbent determination, I resolved to prevail.
I stayed up all night on October 30, attempting to make something wildly beyond my skill set: a functioning pumpkin carousel, complete with horses carved from the walls. After six straight hours of X-Acto-ing, the gourd began collapsing under its own weight.
I really wish I had better photos.
I saved it with dozens of nails, painted it, and got ready to call it a night. That’s when I made the mistake of letting our dog into the backyard…where a skunk was waiting to spray her in the face. Cue another two hours of tomato-bathing.
By dawn, I was a zombie cradling a fragile pumpkin held together by nails, riding the MAX train into downtown Portland.
Result: Grand prize. The reigning champion dethroned.
The pumpkin fell apart on the train ride home.
Nimble Narrative 