Pi-Bald And Pi-Eyed

Yes, I know I more or less have an excuse,

what with trying to get someone to ecologically drain and junk a wrecked car,

and checking facts to see if I really want to drive a car painted bright yellow,

with rubber bathmat sides

and a name like cactus,

but…

get ready for it….

I almost missed pi day!

And that as a math wife!

Sheldon Cooper,

please forgive me.

Especially as this is not just any old pi day.

This is 3-14-16.

The pi of pi.

The century Pi

The pi-ultimate…

well,

you get the idea.

So what do you do when you have goofed big time.

You bake a pie.

You turn exactly three point one-four-one-six times

in a circle, while grasping your forelock.

Hence pi-bald.

You collect a series of things you think might interest him,

the way a margaret pie or magpie does it,

ie songs about pi,

songs written in pi,

using a tone sequence based on the digits of  pi,

best played on a theorba,

or a t(h)eremin,

or the thuba-

oops

tuba.

Then you read him a new article you just found about Grothendieck

or the obituary of Nicolas Bourbaki

(ni fleurs, ni wreath products)

or the famous ballad of poor epsilon,

and hope that with enough tossed-in  pi,

and a couple of lit candles for the birthday of Einstein,

also on this day,

comes pi-cification.

And pi-eace in the valley.

At least until St Patrick’s day,

when it turns out that he who lives and breaths math

has forgotten that he has married into an Irish-American family,

and has to make you green eggs with orange dots for breakfast,

corned beef and cabbage,

yes, I know already.

I said Irish-AMERICAN-

the ones who discovered that salt beef lifted off a British supply ship,

or fallen off a British train,

tastes pretty darned good when you are starving.

Which is probably why they also drink green beer,

and march in kilts and bearskin hats,

to the skirl of the bagpipes.

And in general just have one heck of a good time.

Even if St Patrick really was Roman.

Besides,

who knows.

If you play the whole thing up enough,

and write about what you did for him on Pi-day,

you might even get him in a frame of mind where jewelry is called for.

And that, friends,

is where you remind him it’s not called the Emerald Isle for nothing.

(Just joking. Happy 3.1416.)

copyright Dunnasead.co 2016