Imagination!

Imagination! by Katy 2008

So here it is, the long awaited picture of the art car, Imagination! I'm sure that a better name will come as time goes on, but that is the theme that I am working with for now. The whole thing is inspired by the Journey Into Imagination ride that opened in EPCOT in 1986 (see 80s rainbow). There is a reason why you are only seeing one side of the car. I have only finished one side. The other side has only the first strip down. I have found that I have taken on too many projects. Its hard to clean a house, paint a car AND go to work.

For your enjoyment, part of the original song from the ride,

One Little Spark

One little spark of inspiration,
Is at the heart of all creation.
Right at the start of everything that's new,
One little spark lights up for you.

Oh, hello there. So glad you could come along. I am the Dreamfinder. Musical notes! What delightful melodies those will make. I love these flights of fancy. Searching the universe for sounds, colors, ideas--anything that sparks the imagination! A sunbeam! That's a good one. Everything that I collect can inspire amazing and marvelous new ideas. And you never know what kind of figment you may come up with. Here's my favorite!

Two tiny wings, eyes big and yellow.
Horns of a steer, but a lovable fellow.
From head to tail, he's royal purple pigment.
And there--Voila!--you've got a Figment!

A Figment of Imagination!

~Robert & Richard Sherman~

Holy Week

Holy week started yesterday with Palm Sunday. We celebrated Jesus coming to Jerusalem with the same caiose that comes with ushering 300 children into the sanctuary. The hard part is making them look angelic while they sward fight with palm branches they are suppose to be waving. I have always wondered who started that tradition. I don't think anyone has ever stepped forward to take the blame. If they did, I'm sure every children's minister would burn their likeness in effigy. This year we were treated to some extra excitement. One of the women in the choir fainted right before the service, as she sat in the choir loft. I was in the back hall with a group of palm wavers. As the EMS ran past us to revive her, the 3rd grade boys decided she was probably already dead. She wasn't. Much to their disappointment, she wasn't even wheeled out on the gurney.

I have made a huge amount of progress on the car. One side has the full rainbow on it. It looks spectacular. Alex did an awesome job helping me with it. I think the green could use another coat, but passed that I'm ready to move to the other side. I would have gotten more done, but Alex had softball practice. She couldn't find her glove and ended up grabbing a right handed one. Well she told me this as we walked out on the field. I didn't have shoes on and I was covered in paint. No problem, I ran home to get a left handed one. I could only find the one my sister had used, which is probably two sizes too big for A at the moment. Since I had already run home and back once I decided to stay and help fetch the balls the girls had let slip by them. Barefoot of course. I'm sure the coach just thought I was a mess.

I would have pictures of all of this, but my camera isn't working. Its charged, but won't turn on. I have dropped it several times. Once on the concrete of Epcot, so I know that if its truly broken its all my fault. I am getting $400 back from the government (thank god for medical deductions!) but I would rather not spend that on a camera. I'm going to try and replace the battery first. It may be a fool's earned, but I'm desperate.

The Purple Grape Rides Again

Well, today I rolled up my sleeves and plunged into battle. I stepped up to the purple car with my scraper and took no prisoners. I thought as I scrapped and peeled and sanded of the family my sister first bought the car from. They were nice. A grandmother raising her grandson I think. They lived in a trailer park, the kind news crews drive through after a bad storm so that those of use who are sitting at home starring mindlessly at our TVs can take time to pat ourselves on the back for living in a house made out of brick. They seemed really nice, and quit sad to be loosing the car. They had just gotten an brand new used car and so they no longer need the old Geo. Still, you can tell they were attached. The 12 year old future hair dresser had once dreamed of driving the "Purple Grape" once he reached high school.

Yes, they named their car, Purple Grape. It was one of the many charming things about the car. Soon we all were naming our cars after their colors. Heather had the "Blueberry" for a short time. I admit, when I bought my Saturn I was influenced by the colors name, "Dragonfly Green". (In reality I would say it was teal, but Dragonfly seem more mystical). Anyway, in Anna's absence, in her increasing embarrassment of being a lawyer who drove a POS I had almost forgotten about the magic The Purple Grape once held. There was something about the time I spent with it yesterday and today that helped us to re-connect. Yes, in a way I was tearing it apart, deconstructing it, but in a way it felt like I was freeing her. I gave her her first real bath in years. In the process of removing that decal I felt like I was earning her respect. Like the Karate Kid..."wax on, wax off Daniel son."

I didn't get to paint her this weekend. In a way I'm sad about that, but in a way I'm not. I'm glad we had time to sit with each other and reconnect. I was reminded of her origins which I think will serve me well as I shape her future. Thank you Purple Grape.


Funny Alex story....
We got in the Purple Grape (a '96 Geo that has no power steering) to go to the ice cream story with my sister Anna. There was a truck parked behind us, and in my very bad no-power steering driving skills I was trying not to back into it. This meant it took me a couple of tries (I think I did a 6 point turn) before we were able to drive off. As I was preforming this highly awkward maneuver Alex asked, "Are we going to drive this car in the parade that is on TV?" I really hadn't thought about it much so I just said, "I don't know, I guess."
"Well, then," Alex said, "I hope it doesn't have a lot of turns."
I just had to ask, "why not?"
With out hesitation, and in all sincerity she flat out said, "Cause I'm going to be riding in the car and I care about what I look like."

Adventures in Art-caring

The saga of the art car begins. Art never works the way you intend it. This art car has gotten off to rough start. It began yesterday. Of course, as always I tried to pack way to much into a Saturday, further proof that working 5 days and playing 2 just isn't the kind of schedule I need.

The day started with breakfast at Denny's with my parents. That was fun as always. It's my mom birthday on Tuesday so this is her birthday weekend and we are all subject to her whims. After that we were off to home depot, then hobby lobby. We had to stop by Heather's, of course to wish her well on her cruise. A quick stop by Alex's grandmother's house to pick up her Aunt (who's 11) took longer than planed. Her uncle is in town for the weekend. Alex ended up staying there while I went on.

After washing and sanding the car it was time to test paint. That is when it became clear. The sticker needs to come off. So it was a trip to auto parts store and then the hardware store to get more supplies. After that we started to work on it again. My dad, in all his wonderful wisdom came outside. "I don't think that is a sticker, I think it's just painted on." No, moron it's a sticker. I'm, sitting here, a millimeter a way from the car, I can tell it's a sticker. It's peeling off (although slowly). The thing is most definitely a sticker. I swear the man has to put his two cents into every situation. Living with my parents wouldn't be half as frustrating if he would just shut up once and awhile. But I digress.

I'm still working on the sticker. My expectations have gone from having two rainbows on it by the end of the weekend to have the sticker off, and if I'm lucky, some primer on. We shall see though. I can here my parents cleaning house. I'm just waiting for them to find me an whine that I'm not helping. My mom will freak when she sees me walking outside. Oh well.