kadenza: (ask dr stupid)
This is a pretty interesting topic. Canada has always been caught between several cultures (British, French, US). We were supposed to be fully Metricated by 1980, but some things just never caught on.
Reading the Wiki article brought back many memories, as Metrication was in full swing when I started Kindergarten. I had forgotten about this symbol, but it is really familiar to me– the symbol of the government's Metrication movement. It was found on things like our yellow classroom rulers, scales, and posters.

Despite all this, we continue to use paper that is 8.5 x 11" and print photos that are 4x6". All my print design work is in inches... and I hate it. Eighths and sixteenths of inches? Please.
Personally, I think of temperature in Celcius, very small measurements in milimetres, my own height in feet and inches (though I can give it in cm if need be), and distances in km. I think of large weights in pounds, small ones in grams. Many older people, like MIL, still very stubbornly use F when it comes to outdoor temperatures, though secretly they know that 20° is a nice day and -20° is fricking freezing. However, when it comes to body temperature, I know 37°C is normal, but I think of fevers in °F because that was what all our thermometers full of mercury used when I was a kid. I know anything over 37 is a fever, but I often translate it to F to figure out how "serious" a fever it is. 38.8° is a fever of 102°F. To me, 102 sounds much worse. Similarly, I think of body weight in pounds but prefer to weigh myself in kg, specifically because the number I see has no emotional associations. It's neither good nor bad, but truly "just a number."

Meanwhile, in craft land, it's just a mess. Most people I know measure knitting needle diameter by mm, but we frequently encounter US needle sizes in stores and knitting patterns. Yarn thickness is often measured in wraps per inch. All North American looms, even brand new ones made in Canada, are hopelessly Imperial. Reeds come in dents per inch, weaving widths are measured in inches, warping boards have pegs set one yard apart. Even my hand is 6" long, and I use it to measure with frequently. However, my customers all want wraps in metres; even the American ones. This has caused a few miscalculations on my part, but at least it's not as serious as some incidents I can think of.

This map of non-metric countries continues to boggle my mind (though clearly there are several countries that at least deserve to be shaded slightly pink, including mine):
kadenza: (test pattern)
[livejournal.com profile] haggisthesecond and I were discussing Mad Men on Saturday, and the fact that we both recognized Joan's Corningware coffee pot. We're pretty sure both our mothers had one (or still have one, who knows what's in that house). I was also surprised and amazed to see our old kitchen wall clock a few episodes ago... I think it was Peggy's kitchen, or possibly Betty's. Anyway, freaked me out a bit. And of course now I really, really want one. I think this season takes place in 1966, and my parents were married in '66, so it stands to reason that many of their wedding gifts will be featured. Things are starting to become eerily familiar.













(recognize it, [livejournal.com profile] newschick?)
kadenza: (Default)
My blood sugar has shot up to an unprecedented 14.6 after eating a Power Bar (it usually hovers around 4.3). However, I had to fast for 12 hours in preparation for a blood test and needed energy afterwards, stat. I sat in Glenn Gould Park (who knew there was such a thing?) and snacked afterwards while prodding the bandaid in the crook of my elbow.

The bloodletting went extremely smoothly, thanks in large part to my miraculous topical anesthetic cream. An hour after application, it felt like someone else's arm. Truly creepy to touch yourself and not feel it. Also creepy to watch the needle slide in without so much as a twinge.

Waiting for the streetcar after the appointment, I encountered a childhood acquaintance, Tanya. I haven't seen her since grade 9, but we started chatting as though it hadn't been 18 years since our last conversation. She now works at the Toronto Star doing writing and editing for the Starweek tv guide. To my amazement she said she remembered taking something from my house, and she was sorry. Indeed, in grade 1 or 2 she snatched a $2 bill off my dresser when I wasn't looking, and then claimed she didn't know what I was talking about. It's bugged me ever since, that little klepto. Naturally I said it was alright, and that I've gotten over it, which is now finally true.
kadenza: (Default)
I had a series of vivid dreams last night, the most memorable of which involved Oprah Winfrey. She was holding a "unique experiences" charity auction on TV and next on the block was "Spend a day with Tuatara" (another band you might enjoy, [livejournal.com profile] ficbot). I was online and had just submitted a bid for $27,350, and all I could think about whas how Marshie was going to kill me when he found out. Woke up relieved, but still sad that I didn't get to spend the day with Tuatara.

I found out yesterday that the next phase of the large project I'm working on for Asperjay is supposed to be finished by Monday. This Monday. I only wish this was a dream, but it's not so I'd better get to work.

For some reason that reminds me of what my mother would always say when I didn't want to do my homework-- "Well, you'd better just sit down and do it." Well, obviously I couldn't do it standing up. It just used to grate on me.

I had a math workbook that was red with a kind of canvas-textured cover. It had something about the Scarborough Board of Education on the front, and a picture of a small oil lamp, the kind that might contain a genie, with a flame coming out of the top. It's a symbol I still associate with dread.

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