Tomorrow, Saturday March 14, is Pi Day.
Remember pi? 3.14159265358979323846264338327950288419 and so on. You probably know the rest, so I won't bore you with details. I memorized only 111 digits myself. Pi is an interesting number. It never comes out even, no matter what number you divide it by. (okay, geeks, no matter what rational number you divide it by) We humans have calculated it to an unbelievably and unnecessarily large number of digits. The 38-place number at the beginning of this paragraph is enough precision to calculate the circumference of the detectable universe to less than a micron. However, as with many things, (such as mushroom photos, or motorcycle polish), practicality is not the issue. Ability to do it, and the beauty of it are.
Which leads to why I referred to pie in the title. Last night, my wife (not naked) baked slightly more than half a dozen pies, all emblazoned with p. The kids each took one to school for their math teachers. About three pies plus one slice remain in the house here to eat, and you are invited to join us tomorrow for a party.
2 comments:
Dear Rogers:
This blog was the epitome of bait and switch... And the crowd is getting wise to you. Please tell us about the plans you have for your first rides in April.
Fondest regards,
Jack
Twisted Roads
Dear Rogers:
At today's impromptu meeting of the Rogers George Literary Critique Society it was unanimously decided that you have slipped back into your old ways. No naked women, no roaring motorcycles, not even the scratch and sniff fragrance of an apple pie. It was clearly just another recollection from Mayberry, RD. Shame on you.
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