The Square Root of 11

I have concluded that life is just a series of problems that need to be resolved.   I thought it was about learning mathematics, history, or how to change a tire in the snow when you have forgotten your chains and skidded on black ice to the edge of a cliff during a white-out in Yosemite.

 

But, today I realized that the knowledge and experience is only to give you some skills so that when the inevitable bumper crop of challenges hit you, you are prepared.

 

I wish my teachers had told me that.  I was told that you had to learn history so you wouldn’t repeat it;  or you had to know how to calculate a square root in case you were ever alone in a desert and dying to know the square root of 11, for example, which is, by the way, between 3 and 4, but closer to 3.   I have never been in this situation, however, I have always had some kind of square-root calculating device near enough to make me happy.  If anyone asks in casual conversation about the square root of 11, I will say 3.3166 or 3.426 or any fraction between 3 and 4, but closer to 3.

 

So with my mind filled with the rope factory in Breast France, the reasons the Maginot line was not a good idea, and the backlash from the Vichy Accords, I am here in La Quinta trying to figure out how to make a meat loaf sandwich.