Goodbye....

What can be said when your hero dies?

Nothing....

You're Right...No....I am.

How amazing would it be to be one of those people who is always right?  I don't just mean being correct by whim or circumstance, I mean having the confidence to say whatever you want about anything you want and know that you will never be proven wrong.


Here is the definition of correct:


To remove the errors or mistakes from.

To indicate or mark the errors in.

To punish for the purpose of improving or reforming.

To remove, remedy, or counteract (a malfunction, for example).

To adjust so as to meet a required standard or conditionTo make corrections.

To make adjustments; compensate.

Free from error or fault; true or accurate.

Conforming to standards; proper: correct behavior.

The definition of "correct" holds within it various meanings from simply remedying an error to improving or reforming something, even a person.

What about daily life and those who are always right?  How important is that in the big scheme of things?  I will admit, I love it when I prove my husband wrong about a trivia question or the weather forecast, but how far should a person take it before the need to be correct becomes something of a cancerous demon taking over your entire personality?

As Peter T. McIntyre once said; "Confidence comes not from always being right but from not fearing to be wrong."

Think back to the days when you sat at your desk in public school and the teacher called upon you to answer a question.  You sat there, dumbfounded, turning red, humiliated, thinking the answer over and over in your head, but to scared to say it and be embarrassed by your possible stupid answer.  The next person, the perfect girl in front, raises her hand and speaks loud and clear the faultless answer, looking at you as though to say, "huh, in your face dumb ass." 

So, the question is...is being correct or right all the time simply having the confidence to speak your knowledge, or, is it actually having 100% certainty in everything on earth, yes everything from pop culture to history to predictions of future events?

You tell me?

Some of the greatest philosophers in the world were shamed as lunatics but are know heralded for their wisdom.  At what point do you go from being a stupid dreamer to an ingenious thinker?  Unfortunately the answer is likely death.  I have passed the infamous age of 27 so I know that I have passed my age to die famous with legends of my existence going on for eternity...but I will say...

I will say.....

I am not a genius....

But neither are you.

Just wait Socrates, Descartes, Plato, Aquinas, Chomsky, Aristotle and oh Kristeva...Kristeva...Kristeva....we'll all join you one day.

"When the starry sky, a vista of open seas, or a stained-glass window shedding purple beams fascinate me, there is a cluster of meaning, of colors, of words, of caresses, there are light touches, scents, sighs, cadences that arise, shroud me, carry me away, and sweep me beyond the things I see, hear, or think, The "sublime" object dissolves in the raptures of a bottomless memory. It is such a memory, which, from stopping point to stopping point, remembrance to remembrance, love to love, transfers that object to the refulgent point of the dazzlement in which I stray in order to be."
— Julia Kristeva (Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection)

The Best Age Ever

People always ask; “What has been the best age for you so far.”  I usually start with childhood and think of all my silly little memories.  I then change my mind to my teenage years; tons of fun happened in that era.  Eventually I settle on 25-30 because those have been the best years with my little family.  Once I settle on my answer they say; “Not you silly, Konner!”

Oh, what a selfish answer I think to myself with some embarrassment. 

I then start the entire process over again.  Well, I loved him when he was a baby because he was so cute and round and cuddly.  But then I remember all of the sleepless nights, the crying, and the diapers.  I skip the two’s all together.  Even though he never really had a crazy temper tantrum he used to take off running like a wound up puppy heading for freedom the moment you let him out of your arms.  Four and Five were amazing because I could start taking him to places and he was a little less high maintenance.  Next I move on to 6 & 7…yes, those are my favourite so far.  Konner has been so much fun.  We go everywhere together, he makes me laugh hysterically, he is caring and silly but well behaved and a good listener.  He is the coolest person I’ve ever met and has a very unique personality.  I love showing him things or taking him places that I’ve known of for years and seeing it all again through his eyes.  His likes and interests are his own, there is no persuading him to join a hockey team, it’s piano and dirt biking all the way.  He is one of a kind.

I often wonder what the years ahead will bring.  Will he still want to hang out with his mom, go to movies or walks of shopping?  Will I force him to hang out with me even if he doesn’t want to?  (We all know the answer to that!)  Will he go through the teenage years that will cause me worse sleepless nights than when he was in the crib next to me?

I don’t know what the future holds but I do know that I have a boy who is so well behaved, so caring and so much fun.  I wouldn’t change a thing about my little devil and I can’t wait to see what his future holds.

Failed to Mention....So Here's Some History

I failed to mention that my entire life all I wanted to do is be a writer.  I have dabbled here and there and have freelanced for various publications...but there is nothing better than creative writing.  that is why I love blogging so much, I can write whenever I want about whatever I want.  However, there are some things I have written in the past that might be fun to share.

Here they are...(Feel Free to Comment)

In Admiration

 

Looking up to someone BIG

or down to someone little,

can often be a whole lot more

than just the size of individuals.

Looking up means admiration,

love, respect and expectations.

Looking down means times of teaching,

play, protection...

 special moments of affection.

But, whichever direction you tend to face,

someone oppositely faces back,

and if you realize or if you don’t,

in their heart you have a place.

When you least expect it,

or may not even know,

you’ve spent so much time in admiration,

you’ve become someone’s HERO!

A poem written by A. Floyd

For

William Sadler

In the Midst of Mutants

Tip toe across the floor on toes that don’t exist,

hide in silence from the door of the person you resist.

Secret schematic scoundrel to the realm of innocence,

revealing to the child that your mutiny is bliss.

Climbing slimy walls with hands that have no nails,

as mutants in square caves, wait to watch you fail.

Assembly of distorted men, who taunt, urge and exhort;

to you we passive creatures, live in a land of impossible retort.

Weakness urges us to a place filled with soft mossy hilltop lands,

an escape from dry and dusty worlds of the mutants’ famous quick sands.

But to no avail we find our clawing is weak and feeble at best,

for eventually it’s inevitable to end up like the rest.

Abandoned by intention, forced out and so forlorn,

the blameless of the past had no time to heed us warn.

Yet in the intentional escape by defenceless and insignificant souls,

a fortune is told and mutants will be condemned by their dishonourable goals.

Man vs. Woman: The Eternal Cave

            The modern day world of business is but a melting pot of sexes.  The pot however is full of a lot of other spices that really makes the dish interesting.  A touch of judgment, a tad of inferiority and a pinch of stereotypes are just a few ingredients that really stir things up, if you will.  As the manager of a multi-million dollar company, I have a lot on my shoulders, including the ever debatable braw strap.  To disprove the “stupid young girl” perception in my work place I decided to take this course.  Even in this course women have been faced with a judgmental male attitude and the need for separation.  Here are my personal judgments….

            The women’s liberation movement was the most de-liberating event in the history of the female.  “Bare foot and pregnant” being the common term they were fighting is my bliss.  I’d love to take off these toe squeezing, heel crushing heels and be with my baby at home all day.  Instead I strap on the pumps, squeeze into the panty hose and run around the house gathering lunches, backpacks and mittens, while toting a brief case, school books and two tons of stress on my back.  By the time the five o’clock bell rings I’m off to pick up my child, make dinner, clean the house, do the laundry, pay the bills, do my homework, catch up on back logged work and maybe, just maybe catch a few winks before the alarm goes off.  What do I say to all of this?  Send me back, send me back to the cave.  Now that us independent women are working and making less than men do in the same position, we have two jobs: house wife and our chosen career.  I won’t make myself to be an advocate for women’s rights, but I am an advocate for respect.  And if you’d like to bring stereotypes into it, I’d like to see a man handle all of this day in and day out and still be judged as a weaker and inferior sex. 

            To the outspoken man in our class; if I can get pregnant, do my job and still graduate university, you’d be smart to hire me because I am driven, motivated and hard working, not because I may need some time off to give birth.  Furthermore, the separation of male and female opinions only verifies the male judgment on women.  Why is it important or interesting to separate us into groups of male and female in the classroom?  If we are fighting to be on the same level, yet even in the classroom there is importance on separation of opinion, you are only further proving or justifying the difference.

            I don’t mean to fill the stereotype of the typical woman fighting for equality.  I just want to take the time to point out how much better it would be to be a housewife than to try to do both.  The point is we will never escape this cave.  Man will always be the stronger, smarter breadwinner and the woman will always entertain his ego but know deep down inside just how strong she really is.

            This class is about learning how to be a manager.  I’d like to see if some of the judgmental men could manage to accept and admit that a woman is just as powerful as they are.  If not….send me back to the cave, I don’t need both.

           

The Infamous Afterthought: A Confessional

How often has it occurred that we have been in a moment of mental disarray? Thoughts whirling through our minds like cars on a race track...you could even swear they create a buzz in your ears like on hundred roaring engines. And to add to the thunderous flurry is a whirl of emotion, possible wave of nausea and to top it off, the lovely glow of perspiration that reveals all. With all of this internal chaos a quick comment or smart retort seems “un fait du compli” if you will.

For me, this mental hurricane occurs in a quick wit situation; a fast joke at my expense or a cheap shot. Possibly even an unexpected question to which I can't dig out the answer in my limitless mental file. People laugh, or stare and the split second moment seems to last for hours. I can think of nothing to say, I stand there like a statue, but my mind races to think of something. I inevitably fail. The instance will then replay over and over, again and again and again in my mind until POW.....the infamous afterthought.

Oh yes, a witty come back pops into my mind, a spontaneous gift of smarts and quick retort. But oh, like a belated birthday card, it just doesn't cut it. The moment is over and there is no way you can readdress any situation like this, as you will be only continuing the mockery of yourself. I must find it in myself to let go, relax and ignore the lingering moment of embarrassment in my mind. Not as easy as you would think...for someone like me.

A realization has come to me as of late. The afterthought is my nemesis. It is through the analysis of the curse of the afterthought that I realize I dwell far too much on simple issues. Not to exclude large issues to which I not only dwell on but fanatically over analyze. I allow myself to be consumed by the inevitable afterthought. But only now have I given a moment of this constant pondering to ponder the problem itself. My need to relax and let go, or take moments to myself was addressed recently in a rather interesting class I have proceeded to attend. The bottom line, really, is that this nemesis is my own torture that I have created for myself. I have decided that the afterthought should simply not exist.

This is my confessional and this is my realization. No longer will I be a slave to this inevitable afterthought...I will just beat them to the punch!

Trapped in a Tree

High above the ground

on a limb in an old, twisted tree

hiding safe and sound

from the world, just you and me.

Children for infinity

no troubles, pains or aches

not thinking of the days ahead

or what pains adulthood makes.

Laughter, giggles, teasing...

friends without a thought.

Innocence so easy

never feeling old and distraught.

Age grabs you by the foot

rips you down from underneath

and childhood memories stood

while distance aches from beneath.

Misunderstood you disappeared

snatched, grabbed, taken fast

if you only knew how much we cared...

maybe you’d still be here.

There’s nothing more to say...

no words to match the thoughts

but I’ll never forget our childhood

 and my memory of you is trapped in our tree that I see every single day..

In Memory of J.S.

The Best Prime Minister that Never Was

I'm not going to pretend that I am extremely knowledgeable when it comes to Canadian politics.  In fact, ever since Stephen Harper has been the Prime Minister of Canada I can't stand listening to any of it.  In my personal opinion, he lacks passion.  In fact, at most debates or press conferences, he sounds like he is reading his children to sleep rather than fighting for a better future for Canada. 

When Obama was coming up the ranks and sought a potential win as the first black President, my family and I were and still are engrossed by every word he spoke.  I kept saying to my husband that I wished Canada had a leader like good old B.O.

The closest thing was Jack Layton.  I don't think I have ever seen an individual more passionate and dedicated to our country as he was.  He stirred my interest and made me want to vote.  I started reading more about what the parties were fighting for or against.  I have to admit that I was a little disappointed that he didn't end up being our Prime Minister, I truly believe that our country could have gone a long was with him as our leader. 

Everyone is talking about his death, moreover, everyone is saying how powerful he was, how he spent his life fighting for his beliefs and how he was the best Prime Minister that never was.

Heads up Canada...it's because of us that he wasn't.  Next time a man or woman like Layton miraculously appears, lets not waste any time.

After reading Layton's final letter to Canadians, I was deeply saddened.  Even in his last words he was trying to make things better on all fronts, cross all of his t's and dot all of his i's. 

The final words of his letter will ring loudly in the minds of so many Canadians....for so long:

"My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world."

If we've heard nothing of what he's had to say....

Let's here that.

RIP Jack Layton

A Lament for H.P.

Oh Hammy Pie, Oh Hammy Pie,
Wherefore art thou Hammy Pie?
Deny my love and refuse my hand.
Or if thou wilt not stay in your cage,
sworn by my love, and I'll no longer be a Floyd...
'Tis but thy obsession with cuteness that is my enemy,
thou art thyself, though not a homosapien.
What is a homosapien?
It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm nor face,
nor any other part belonging to a hammy.
O be some other creature.
What's in an animal?
That which we call a rodent by any other name would smell more sweet;
so Hammy Pie would, were he not Hammy Pie called, retain the dear perfection
that is his cage.
Hammy Pie doff thy genus, and for that species which is no part of thee,
take all....my...my....

Nothing................

Keep your darned adventurous, escaping little minny poofy booty in your gosh darned cage!

P.S.

Madison you crazy little pigmy hippo lover....

This one's for you!  It's the best I've got for cute little mini things.

Nobody Told Me I Was Having Twins

Almost 8 years ago when I found out I was pregnant I was thrilled...scared to death, yes...but thrilled all the same.  I knew right away I was having a boy, there was no doubt in my mind.  After a very long 9 months I realized....my boy wasn't just any boy....he was an identical twin!

They both had big round heads, and the most beautiful big brown eyes that you have ever seen.  Their eyelashes go for miles and their curly lips are always smiling.  Little round noses, big fat feet and turtle hands...everything is the same and I do mean everything!

Together they grow, aging too fast....

They have the same walk, more like a saunter really and they are both very loud with no concept of an "indoor voice".  Their laughs are contagious and so is their happiness.  The two of them are the most optimistic boys I've ever known.  I can't wait to come home everyday from work and have them both run to greet me at the door and tell me all about their day.

They both love music; listening to it, playing instruments, singing and making up very silly words to very silly songs.  They both love to ride dirt bikes and do anything dangerous...no matter what Mom says.  I love watching them enjoy life to the fullest and much to my chagrin I spend an awful lot of time dealing with baths and applying the necessary bandages.

They are both clumsy and messy and horribly forgetful but they will always help me if I ask.  The best thing is that in the past 8 years they have never missed a goodnight cuddle or a good morning hug. 

As much as it may be difficult for a woman to have twin boys, I wouldn't change it for the world.  My boys really are my world and I would not take back a single moment, not even the broken window, the stained carpets nor the fact that I can no longer jump on a trampoline!  (Ignore that one male readers!)

My boys make me the luckiest girl in the world and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life loving them.

My Twin Floyd's

Also....

Anyone who can catch a fruit fly, regular old grubby fly or mosquito in mid-air....
You Are on MY TEAM!!!!

Yes...I Have a GOOD Reason

I may not remember the most expensive or impressive gift my parents ever bought me or some other moments in my life that would typically be unforgettable...but I do remember the most important things, the most important things to me...that is.  One of the most special memories I have in my life are the ones that my mother and my grandmother gave me. 

I'll never forget being a little girl and going for walks with my mom and collecting a beautiful bouquet of thistles, daisy's, Queen Anne's lace, butter cups, red clover, lily of the valley and more. In fact, my mother has a photo of me holding a bouquet like this, next to her desk. 

My grandmother also loved long walks with her beloved dog, Cujo.  I would walk with her and she would tell me the names of every weed or flower.  Every time we came across Queen Anne's lace she would tell me all about how much she loved those "flowers not weeds" and she would tell me everything she knew about the royal family; all of the Queen's and how beautiful they were and how rich and how lavish their lives were and handsome their husbands were.  Sometimes she would walk as though she were a "grand lady" and I would twirl around and pretend to be a princess.  She would let me pick as many as I could hold.  I loved to tie the stems together and make long white fluffy garlands. 

If we saw Lilly of the Valley she would let me bend over and smell them, but not pick them (sometimes I would sneak just one and tuck it in a pocket...shhh).   She told me they reminded her of bells which also reminded her of the line from "It's a Wonderful Life"; 'Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.' (Yes I changed 'his' to 'its').  Believe it or not, I don't know if I've seen the movie, if I have, I don't remember it, but I remember that one scene and I remember Grandma saying it just like the little girl had.  Now whenever I see the angel bells I think of her.

Those special moments with just my mom and just my grandmother (and Cujo of course) meant the world to me.

Another thing that I have realized is that there are so many things in the world that can make someone feel like they are out of place...and perhaps....they are.  But what I have learned is that although it may not seem like it, there is always a place for everyone, they just have to find it.  It may not be easy, and may be questionable, but it exists...I know it does.

So, that is my reason.  I have just gotten a tattoo, yesterday...and in that time I have already faced judgement.  Most people loved it and asked questions, one friend even wanted a picture of her own.  It is so ironic that the quotation incorporated in the art states; "A Weed is Simply a Flower Out of Place" and those very judgements prove it so clearly.

Judgements or not, I will look at this piece of art and think of my mother and grandmother every single day.  Thankfully my mother is still here and will be for a long time.  My grandmother passed away two months before my wedding.  She has never seen my house or how happy my little family is, but she is always with me.

I think that at times my grandmother and mother have felt like weeds. I know that I have as well, and often still do.  The way I see it is that everyone is a flower, even if in a way that no one realizes it....they just need to find the right garden.

I hope I've found mind.


P.S.
As I write this my son is singing...
"I want to be
under the sea
in an octopus's garden
in the shade."

Maybe that's where us Floyd's belong...with the Octopi....

Agree?



My Mommy and I



My Grandma and I



Cujo and I

And Here it is...The Final Product.
Thanks Ink Witch





Lilly of the Valley and Queen Anne's Lace.



Donald-Schwarzenegger, Leader of the Resistance

Ok, Schwarzenegger....
Who do you think you are?
I know that you are one of my best friends, your family is like my own family, you have a round tushy and I trust you with my life, seriously, I do....but come on!!!!!!  Let's get together now....

Fish "n" Chips, Sunday morning 7-11 runs, tossing the spatulas and kicking your butt in Monopoly...D.S., you fill my memory.
From the day you lived in that tiny, decrepit looking apartment with Dustin, you have been my best friend.  Your wife is a Goddess who I can depend on more than...well...the tooth fairy, and let me tell you, hell is raised if she doesn't show up. 
Sidenote: (Ness....aside from your yo yo, baseball bat and lightening bolt abilities...your mind control has me sucked right in....Just call me Lucas, I'm your sidekick for life.)
D.S., You were my pregnancy nightmare buddy, you were in my wedding, you are uncle to my baby, in all honesty, there is no closer family than my terminator.
LOL!!!
Ness, did you know your husband can combat a T1000 created by skynet?  You go girl!!!
So, Mr. and Mrs. Schwarzenegger, brother and sister of the Floyd family....

What's next????

Parkplace....Broadway Garden....Chance....Perhaps....?

You wanna know who you are???? Both of You?????
All four of you and your damn minpins??????????????

My BEST Friends.

I hope you're in my life forever.

Miss you!

Tessa Has A Poofy Booty

Ok...so I know I have already posted today but I have to mention rather quickly that "Tessa Has  a poofy Booty".  So, my beautiful, wonderful, perfect little Shepherd Collie doggie named Tessa who is 4 years old and has survived a fit of fleas and a horrotious (word coined by one Mr. K.W.K. Floyd.) car accident has a poofy booty.  I took her to the groomers and she came home with this miraculously large, blond poofy booty.  Every moment of every day ever since the grooming experience, Konner does not fail to mention how very poofy the booty is.  It resembles a blond Q-tip running around like its got something to prove.  Well, I am here to say that the boy and his friend with her poofy booty make every single one of my days a little better...

Never mind that the darned shaved cat keeps looking at me like I owe her something....

Maybe I do....

Maybe I should stop shaving her.... :(

In THE Stream

The alarm goes off...it's 7:30a.m..  I get up, take a shower...what do I wear?  I get dressed, make my morning tea.  I walk upstairs and look at my little boy, sleeping in a world of bliss, unaware that I am even there.  I do my makeup, make my lunch and wait for my mother to arrive to watch my son.  Sometimes I put on the radio and listen to the selection of the day, wishing it was my selection of yesterday.  I get in my car, drive down the same street, to the same parking lot, to the same parking spot.  I walk down the same walk-way, greet today's ship in the lock and Jonathen waiting at the window for his daily french fry and ice cream cone.  I sign the book, put my lunch in the fridge and venture to my desk that is set in amongst the relics of the past.  Nothing seems out of the ordinary until....
Each day a surprise happens, but nothing is the same as a life flashing before your eyes.  I look at her, she looks at me, I wonder what will happen next.  I take her upstairs, I panic, I pray....please, don't let this happen yet.  In amongst the relics where I dwell on a daily basis are people who know far more than I do and far more than I ever will.  They have survived world wars and who knows what more and they are still here to tell their story.  Yet what would we do if we lost them without their story?...
After an event like today...facing a possible loss of an 88 year old friend, I stop and think...what more do I need to know?
The fact is, it will never end, I will never know everything that they could have shared.  Never will I have felt what they felt,  but I will respect what they are...a person from a world which I will never know, possibly never understand.  Either way, I respect all that they stand for and dream of a time that all of this will come together.
As I sit here and write this blog I can hear my son, my husband and King of Queen's in the background and I know...my family may only know what it is like to live in the present with our comedic escapes, but I will always wonder what it was like to live in the past, without them....
I'm thinking of you June.

Me and My Cellar Dwellers

I am surrounded by a Viking helmet wearing, poutine junkie, a brain surgeon who is going to marry a sultan and a punk loving photographer who won’t take me to Cuba.  What a World!

By my initial description you may be thinking that I’m at a costume party or possibly an insane asylum, but no, oh no….I’m at work.  That’s right, my daily routines are surrounded by some very interesting people.  You see, each summer my co-workers and I are lucky enough to recruit a group of summer students to help us with our massive work load.  We always get excited for this time of year.  A bunch of new faces to liven up the place and relieve some of our stress. 

Each year I try really hard not to get attached to the summer staff, however, it seems to get harder and harder for me.  At first I thought that I just really like having new people around, and then I thought that it was my superior skill of choosing the perfect sidekicks, but I have decided that the bottom line is that there is a wonderful group of people coming up through the ranks.

It seems so often that we are hearing about “young people now-a-days”.  And although I’m not yet menopausal, I had often agreed that the morals and values of young’uns was going down the tubes.  Yet just when society is blaming this generation for so many of the problems in the world, I get the opportunity to meet and work with some of the most intelligent and potential filled people it makes me want to vomit…either that or hire them on full time….(If Only….).

So even though one day they will pull up in their BMW’s with their family on their day off from their million dollar a year careers to visit the museum in which I still work in a basement surrounded by smurfs, I’ll still be proud to say I’m the one that taught them everything they know!!!

From the Family Room to the Fishing Boat (This One's for You Ziekertail)

Spending a weekend aboard an aluminum fishing boat had never been one of my favorite past times. My grandfather, father, husband and now son can think of nothing better than a day trolling the waters. Aside from the motor fumes, sore booty and full bladder…the pointless torture and slaughter of helpless fish sheerly for my own entertainment usually leaves me lying awake at night wondering if they are swimming around in pain cursing us homosapiens and our hooks.

Yet, alas, I have had a revelation. One thing I love to do is spend time sitting around the family room with some great friends and good conversation… and perhaps a nice glass of Merlot. This weekend I’ve discovered that the good old aluminum boat is a little better than that. My husband and I and another couple went out just after dinner in search of the BIG catch. The water was calm, the company fabulous and the music was an added touch. I had so much fun that I didn’t even notice the 20 mosquito bites I found all over myself the next day. I had even caught a monster fish, much to the awe of my boat mates. The sky was so clear and we could see every single star which made me completely forget about the fact that I really....REALLY had to go.

The more I think about that night, the more I realize that I’d take a fishing boat over a family room any day. No television with an attention grabbing sports station tearing the company of the men folk away from our extremely interesting female conversations, no phone, no fuss, just fun!

I will admit that I still lay awake at night worrying about how not only does the fish I caught have a hole in its cheek, but the second hook on my lure had caught the belly of my fish and ripped its poor skin right open. Even though I know this means a big notch off my karma track record….it was still worth it!