Honouring a well loved man,

This is a small article i found on my deceased great uncle. it was not written by me, it was just copied from an archive, in the interest of preserving any writings on the amazing man, that was my great uncle.

(From The Montreal Gazette July,25,1984)
Maurice Chenier, publisher of Wine and Dine magazine and a former wine columnist for The Gazette, became a wine expert because of his wife's cooking, he said in an interview.
She was women`s editor of the B.C. paper where they both worked in the 1960's and was determined that no recipe would be published without her personally testing it. Many of the recipes were international in origin, and Chenier, getting into the spirit of things, tried to keep up by providing appropriate wines as accompaniment. They eventually became so interested in international wining and dining that they retired from serious work and traveled for six years, circling the globe 2 1/2 times, before settling in Montreal to resume ordinary living.

Chenier became an editor at The Gazette in 1967 and, from 1977 to 1979 also wrote the wine column. He abandoned full-time newspaper journalism in 1979 to "become a struggling publisher" of Wine and Dine magazine. He also works as a freelance wine expert, writing articles for other publications, contributing to television shows, giving wine courses, and acting as a consultant for the Quebec Liquor Corp.
In September, he plans to launch a French-language wine review which will be distributed in QLC outlets.
He estimates he tastes "more than 1,000 different wines every year" and ruefully concedes that it shows in his "more than 200 pounds"

Yet, he adds, " Wine is not the major problem. I have a personal rule of never drinking more than a half bottle a day. The food side is more dangerous for me. I love to eat."
On the credit side, he says the people he meets are "the major perk. People interested in fine wines are food are usually interested in fine cars,music, history. they have a joie de vivre"

*blows dust off blog*

this is an ongoing story type thing (more like a journal) i am writing on my recent break-up maybe it will help maybe it will hurt. either way, it will be written.



She slept fitfully, aware of what she had done. The greatest person in her life was gone.How could she ever forgive herself. love is sometimes a worse emotion/choice than
hate. driving those who love each other into depression and dislike. How could she have forgotten over the past two years that she and him were friends. They shared a love so deep that living with out him caused her a physical pain, a pressure on her heart that would never go away untill he loved her again.


Who was this woman? She wasn't famous, nor was she particularly beautiful. plain, maybe even interesting looking, but not beautiful. why should a love like this happen between tho plain plain people?
Her name was ashley. It was three months since the break-up of her betrothal, and it was like it happened days ago. people say that it gets better with time, but for her it hasn't. For her every day is like the last. solitary.

thank you dad.

I have been thinking a lot recently of father figures, and more specifically of my own father figure.
My own father figure was not my own father, but actually my best friend’s father. At least when I think of the man that parented us the most I think of him.
He was the one threatening my dates, and it was from him that I heard the ever popular “men are scum, some are just less scummy” comment.
After all I still believe that old comment “all men marry their mothers, and all women marry their fathers”, at least for the most part. After thinking for some time about the man I want to eventually share my life with, all I can think of is that I want a man that shares some similar qualities.
This seems almost a silly and needless blog, but I decided after all these years I should pay kudos to the man that spent time and energy keeping my on the straight and narrow, when nobody else wanted to waste the effort.
So I raise my glass to the man that paid for my good grades, that housed and fed me, that put up with me from youth to adult hood, or at least most of the way there. To the man that played kickass songs on the guitar in the summer by the bonfire, and didn’t even complain too much when we tried to build a house on your property with nothing but a few two by fours and some nails, and the man that first told me men were scum.
I owe you one. I don’t know how we would have turned out if you were never my neighbour.
To, many years of good health, fun, drink, friends and family, old man.
Oh, and you were right about men.

does natural beauty exist anymore?

I have been long due for another post

Does natural beauty exist anymore?


I was on the bus, traveling around the city one day for no reason, and I was surprisingly noticing the women.
The things I have noticed is that the women in town are becoming more and more fake looking.

Not fake looking in a sense that they looked like mannequins, but fake looking in a sense that they look like dolls.
For some reason that worries me… what happened to women that are real in their bodies. What happened to women that didn’t dye their hair every two months, didn’t wear lip plumping lip stick, didn’t wear more make-up than a runway model on acid.
I wonder if such a woman exists, In a time when men are also regularly wearing make-up what if anything is real anymore.


This is in no way an insult to the “beautiful people” of the world, it is just a thought that a lot of people are looking like Barbie dolls. It’s a scary thought that we are loosing actual beautiful people, to people who look like they are made of plastic.
Where, if it even does exist is natural beauty.
Good luck to the man out there searching for her…after years of “video hoes” a naturally beautiful woman would verily make my day.

on life, love and living with a drill sergeant

Well first off I wouldn’t call him a drill sergeant, because he isn’t. He is a retired drill sergeant.


It all started like this, I was happy once. Maybe it was before I was born, where ignorance was really bliss but I’m sure at that time I was happy.


Truly happy, not like the smiling faces fake rendition of happy you see in print and on TV.

Yes I was happy.

Then I was born. In my opinion we are all happy until we are born, then we have to live with life until we die, where once again (much like the time before our births) we are ignorant and happy.

Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like had I lived it differently; had I been born in different circumstances what would I be like. Would I be smarter, nicer, happier, or would the human spirit prevail and shape me into the person I am today whether I had an easier life or not.

Can I even say I know who I am right now as a person? If I can’t say that can anyone.


Can our pasts shape our future so considerably, that something done as children can alter our lives so much that our future could be entirely different as adults than it would have had we not done that thing to begin with.

Getting back on track here if there even was a track to begin with, who am I?
Is that even a question that we as humans have the ability to answer?
I’m sitting here in this house that will never be mine, living with this family that will never be mine, trying to get through this life that may never have been mine and I am asking myself who I am.

How did I end up here, was I meant to be right here in this place at this time?

What can I do to change my life and put myself on a better path?

Let’s go back in time to my past, because that is where all the action is. I truly believe that from birth I was unhappy. It was not that I was an unhappy child, but perhaps that I lead an unhappy life.
From before I can remember my life was very unstable. There were so many things that happened to me as a child that I could not talk about, or share as I got older.

to be continued another time.....