I have never called or considered myself an artist. For a while I had an Apple laptop with graphic capabilities, and I did some sketching with it. My husband surreptitiously kept them on his computer when we dumped the rotten Apple for a competent Microsoft computer. We forgot about them for a while (I created these graphics in 2006) and he came across them last night. I decided they had nostalgic if not artistic value to me, and decided also to post them on my blog, trusting in my readers’ kindness.
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This iron spigot serves a front lawn in America; it’s roughly 20 years old. I remember when most things for our homes, our attire, and our cats’ food were made in the USA as a matter of course. I sometimes wonder whether we really get along so much better with the rest of the world, now that we make fewer basic things for ourselves. Just a thought; I don’t care to politicize it.
For those of us who regularly dwell in algebraic hibernation, my husband noted this morning that this coming Pi Day, which I just discovered has been celebrated every March 14 since 2009 by Congressional proclamation, will have the mind-dazzling highlight of two additional decimal places: 3.1415.
This is certainly a most fortuitous year. At once every 100 years, Pi Day occurs less frequently than appearances of Halley’s comet.
We plan a quiet celebration at home.