The steady parade of friendly dogs was a fitting reward. Plus the breakfast at A Baked Joint is excellent.
Parkmobile + A Baked Joint = Dogs
Tag: Food
Everyday Joys: Soup Week
Works for me.
What did one math book say to the other?
Terrible math jokes for Pi Day. And, a Pi Pie. (It’s cranberry-apple.)
Q: What did one math book say to the other?
A: Don’t bother me. I’ve got my own problems.
Q: Why should you never mention the number 288?
A: Because it’s two gross.
Q: Why do plants hate math?
A: It gives them square roots.
Q: Why did the student get upset when the teacher called her average?
A: It was a mean thing to say.
Q: How do you stay warm in a cold room?
A: Go to a corner. It’s always 90 degrees.
Q: What did the zero say to the eight?
A: Nice belt!
Q: Why did pi get its driver’s license revoked?
A: Because it didn’t know when to stop.
Q: What do you get when you take the sun and divide its circumference by its diameter?
A: Pi in the sky.
Q: What is a math teacher’s favorite vacation destination?
A: Times Square.
Q: Have you heard the latest statistics joke?
A: Probably.
Q: Why is it sad that parallel lines have so much in common?
A: Because they’ll never meet.
Q: Why is the obtuse angle upset?
A: Because it is never right.
Q: Why does no one ever speak to circles?
A: Because there’s no point.
Q: What do you call friends who love math?
A: Algebros.
Q: Why do atheists have trouble with exponents?
A: They don’t believe in higher powers.
Birthday Trio
…and a celebration for Colette, Elijah Wood, and Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (published on this day in 1813).
Pandemic Grocery Adventures
Please! No Food Fights!
On the whole I’ve been impressed by the Democratic candidates’ eloquence and collective goals, and annoyed by debate moderators’ attempts to provoke them into pointless bickering. Here’s what I’m hoping will NOT happen Thursday night.
Kian
Staunton, Part 2: History and Pastry
Morisot and More
Philly: Part 3 of 4.
Philadelphia: Spoon-Free
Philly: Part 2 of 4. Spooning without spoons.
Aunt Marge
The Maple Tree
Although it stills feels as hot and muggy as midsummer here in Washington, DC, it is actually the first day of autumn in the northern hemisphere. So, a painting and a poem in celebration. The leaves are changing color; we await those crisp cool blue-sky days. And wait… Happy Autumn, everyone.
The Maple with its tassell flowers of green
That turns to red, a stag horn shapèd seed
Just spreading out its scallopped leaves is seen,
Of yellowish hue yet beautifully green.
Bark ribb’d like corderoy in seamy screed
That farther up the stem is smoother seen,
Where the white hemlock with white umbel flowers
Up each spread stoven to the branches towers
And mossy round the stoven spread dark green
And blotched leaved orchis and the blue-bell flowers—
Thickly they grow and neath the leaves are seen.
I love to see them gemm’d with morning hours.
I love the lone green places where they be
And the sweet clothing of the Maple tree.
—John Clare 1793-1864
Elizabeth