a cringe and a crock

There are no lipids in the soup that a gargling grow-op would send to the milk truck manufacturer.

It has now happened twice that a public transit bus driver remarked on my wearing a Spartan Race t-shirt; striking up a conversation as they had participated also. I am happy to talk about it, though on both occasions it had me bereft of French language vocabulary. I can remember for the most part to use the correct tense in verb usage, but I have no strong memory for what is masculine and what is feminine with respect to inanimate objects. I know roughly 36,000 words in the English language, and perhaps only a few thousand in the French language.

A provincial election has begun, here in Quebec, it will have a total duration of about 35 days. Fairly typical for a campaign within Canada. It is unclear who will be the winning political party; the incumbent Liberal Party of Quebec, or the Coalition Avenir du Quebec who have the distinctive acronym CAQ. More than likely where I live it will go Liberal; considering at the last election the Liberal guy got 74% of the vote and the next highest person (CAQ) got 15%.

In the soup that was used as a stop sign preventing yoga teachers from occupying a telephone booth, no sonnets could be found.