Kali the Destroyer: Cereal Killer Version
Did you ever do something so absolutely wrong, so insanely stupid, that it actually shocks you into believing you dreamt the whole thing? That secretly you’re convinced when you wake up in the morning, everything will be back to normal?
Yeah, this is what my laptop still looked like at 8:00 this morning:
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Yesterday, while getting my PA system ready to take to a party, I dropped the PA head on my laptop. Holy f***, yes I did. It hit the screen AND the edge of the keyboard.
Panic and hand-wringing ensued as I shuffled – stunned – through every room in the Treehouse, wondering what the f*** I was going to do, and beating myself up for my clumsiness. Laughing bitterly, I remembered that it was only an hour or two ago that I’d written my post about the Hindu goddess of creation, preservation, and destruction.
“I AM Kali the Destroyer!” I shouted down the hallway.
Kali the Destroyer
Destroying things, whether for paid work or for personal home and property renos, is just plain fun. I always feel a little bit like Kali the Destroyer when I get to rip something apart with my hands, or tear it to pieces with crowbars and sledgehammers.
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Kali, or Kali Ma, is the Hindu goddess of creation, preservation, and destruction. She reminds us of the cycle of all things: for every beginning, there is an ending. For every life, there will be a death in the end. All things that are created can and will eventually be destroyed.
Soul Sustenance
Peanut Butter Oatmeal Cookie Recipe Included!
I was looking through some of my older Treehouse photos this evening when I came across this one, with a vintage television of sorts in the background. When I took this photo in 2005, I still had a television, and this was mine:
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This gleaming wood TV cabinet belonged to my grandfather. It came to me when he died. (At the age of 92 – not from illness, but as the result of a car accident. Grandad was made of strong stuff!) In the 1960s, the entire cabinet WAS the television, a black and white model. The cloth and metal grills on each side once hid speakers from view, and the screen was in the center. (Better pics after the jump.)
As I’ve mentioned before, both of my grandfathers were carpenters. So when the old TV finally died, this Grandad used his skills to built up the center for holding a new (at the time) TV.
I’m starting to see this re-purposing trait I have might be genetic.
Women’s Work is in the Home (Renovations)
Despite the fact that both my grandfathers were trade carpenters, I didn’t have a lot of opportunity as a kid to play with power tools. Girls didn’t really do that kind of thing when I was young. We were often discouraged when we showed interest. We were supposed to colour inside the lines and take Home Economics.
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my calloused thumb, circa this morning
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I worked as a Human Rights advocate for 11 years, and then I burnt out spectacularly. Nowadays, I perform renovations and property maintenance as a private contractor. Maybe it’s in the blood.
After and Before
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Recently I was digging around in my photo box, where I found some old Polaroids I took of the Treehouse. I’m not sure when, but I’m guessing anywhere from 12 – 15 years ago.
Above is a photo of how the Treehouse looks now. Below is how the Treehouse looked then:
Creative Tools
I can’t help myself from going a little nuts and riding this un-mountain bike on the trails around here sometimes. Hence, both of the wheels on my bike are bent. They need their spokes adjusted. I looked at the instructions for truing wheels once, and decided I was not ready to tackle this myself. However, not dealing with my wheels means the occasional Sunday afternoon brake adjustment.
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I saw this primary colour-schemed photo opportunity when a friend placed his toolbox on the ground beside my Raleigh.
I have never been too sure whether George is a housecat or a tiny panther. Either way, he did enjoy his Sunday afternoon in this sunbeam, just like any cat would, big or small:
Planned Parenthood for Plants
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March 15 marks the day every year when I start feeding my houseplants for the growing season. I use seaweed fertilizer, which has that familiar rank odour of rotting kelp to remind me of the ocean beaches. Still, it’s much more bearable to my sensitive sniffer than fish fertilizer, and far preferable to inorganic chemical compounds for plant health.
Last summer I was able to raise a few outdoor coleus babies from cuttings off a live mother plant. Having wintered indoors, in a location so devoid of daylight that no other plant in the Treehouse will tolerate it, the babies survived to be healthy and reasonably bushy:
Refraction and Reflection
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My favourite colours have always fallen to the cool side of the spectrum: the blues, the greens, the purples and turquoises. They are peaceful, calming hues to me, and when done right, they have an ethereal quality.
So, too, do mirror and glass have an ethereal quality, and make interesting subjects for drawing, without even the requirement of colour:
Manifest Headboard
When your mom is an artist, sometimes you get to have really cool requests fulfilled, like a mural in your house. This particular request was for killer whales to put in my bedroom.
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Whether or not there are such things as totem animals or spirit animals, I’ve felt an affinity for the killer whale for a long time now. They are strong, powerful, and playful. And I’ve always been fascinated with their beautiful black and white colouring.
I’d painted my own Haida art-inspired interpretation of a killer whale for my entrance hall, but my mom’s watercolours were even more spectacular than I could have imagined. I tried to get the best shots I could, but I hope you can somewhat see the beautiful purples, blues, and turquoises in the water. She chose them because they are my favourite colours:
The Insta-band
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Last summer, a woman called me with a desperate plea and a gig offer. I had played for her a couple of times before, both with different line-ups of musicians. This time, she was having a party in four days, and the band she’d planned for bailed on her.
My first introduction to her parties was her gigantic family reunion, where her dear old dad kept us playing till three in the morning so he could dance. For her, I could do this.
The Treehouse by Dodie Goldney 