I love that there is a day we celebrate Pi. And by “we” I really mean…my mathematician husband and me. Of course, I know we’re not the only ones amused by March 14th resembling 3.14 (the first digits of the infinite number that goes on 3.141592653…), but
maybe we’re one of the few partnerships made up of one brilliant math whiz (who is an artist who makes beautiful wooden puzzle boxes, probably using Pi for some of them—I don’t know for sure, MATH ISN’T REALLY MY THING) and one very enthusiastic pietron (like patron, but a pietron eats pies on the regs). Pi Day just seems like an excellent coming together of our Pi(e)dentities (I CAN’T STOP, #SORRYNOTSORRY).
I also recognize that Pi is inspiring to many, and that part of its appeal is that it’s irrational, transcendental, and infinite. I feel like our lil’ human brains drool over that combo. Okay, okay, I should speak for myself. I’m sure there’s human brains out there that shut the cuss down at the thought of infinity, let alone an infinite number that’s IRRATIONAL and TRANSCENDENTAL. It can be hard to accept that which is unknown to us. So much so, that we start making up alternative facts.
There are so many ways to play with Pi and pie. At one point when I was thinking about what I wanted to write about today, I entertained the thought of exploring patriarchy pie. That’s all I’ll say about that. You’re welcome.
And because anthropomorphizing the shit outta inanimate objects never gets old: