How's That Function?

Morning weigh-in (Thursday): 173.5#, 6% BF (WTF?)
Morning weigh-in (Friday): 175.5#, 12% BF

 

Blog Watch: I truly love Doghouse Riley, but I think he's been working his way up to an aneurysm lately. Too many fools for someone who doesn't suffer them gladly... "Kumbaya" indeed, and I love that first comment!

 

Conjunction Junction: That little musical Wednesday night was pretty cute, even if it wasn't quite Broadway. I have a photo or two that I'll eventually post, but the basic setup was: about a half dozen kids did the acting (and sang and danced) onstage while a chorus, split into two groups, sang on either side. There was a framing device,  "new teacher working through her lesson plans and first-day jitters," but most of what went on was the song-and-dance. They did most of the songs I remember, and a few I'd forgotten. Cute, fun, and I thought Anne was going to die laughing when Deb and I started singing along. Donna did a good job with her kids.

 

To Understand Recursion, You Must First... That little MTO program I wrote was interesting in terms of real-world uses, yadda yadda, but my real reason to write it was because I wanted to play around with linked lists and recursive functions. Well, mission accomplished, I must say. Back in the day (before you could buy such things, like way back when I was in college) I wrote a bunch of math functions for heat transfer problems; some of them, like Bessel functions, were based on recursion, but I rewrote them to be iterative since they were sooooo slowwww -- it was an overhead thing, I was overloading the limited resources of my little Mac Plus. Funny how things come full circle after 20 years, but though I used a mishmash of iteration and recursion in this new thing, I think the recursion seemed to work much better than I remembered it.

Hey Nineteen: I forget now if it was my BS (1988) or MS (1990), but my graduation for at least one of them was May 19th, which I have always heard sung to the tune  of "Hey Nineteen." Well here it is, either nineteen, or 21 years later -- someone who was born on my graduation is now officially old enough to drink.