I can think in the metric system for small quantities, like the sizes we dealt with in science classes, but not for bigger quantities.

Same here. Also, very large ones. I think (warning! science-free speculation ahead!) that we form pretty deeply ingrained notions of the kinds of measures we use from day to day -- I have a gut feeling for what it is to be THIS height, or to walk THAT far, and the labels for those things (not the exact height, but the kind of range people happen in) are something I've known for almost as long as I've known stuff. Whereas something measured in microns? Whatever, call it whatever you want, since it's a step removed anyway; and so the translation from familiar to unfamiliar units isn't part of the process.

I can think in the metric system for small quantities, like the sizes we dealt with in science classes, but not for bigger quantities.

Australia converted to metric not long before I was born, which meant that Imperial measures were still in common usage while I was growing up. As a result I'm fairly comfortable with both systems.

When I went to the farmers' market last week, they had a big sign saying, "None of our tomatoes have even VISITED Florida".

"None of our tomatoes have even VISITED Florida".

I thought Florida tomatoes were supposed to be okay. Did they figure out where the bad ones are coming from?

I really only eat grape tomatoes so it hasn't affected me too much.

Skippity skippity, I'm not here, but I just needed to tell someone that two elevators have tried to eat me already today, and I am NOT AMUSED.

And now I return to documentation. Crap.

Perfect braids show dad's devotion

Nice Father's Day story, except for my lurking suspicion that it wouldn't be a story if her *mother* had learned to braid their adopted daughter's hair.

That is an adoption from the same orphanage as mac, I am pretty sure.

lisah, awesome kitchen! I need someone to tell me what color to paint mine. For some reason, I'm great at telling my sisters' what to do with their houses, but I'm paralyzed by my own.

Fathers' Day Story from Dooce about stay-at-home dads, daughters and public bathrooms. It's a little graphic, a lot funny.

[link]

Nice Father's Day story, except for my lurking suspicion that it wouldn't be a story if her *mother* had learned to braid their adopted daughter's hair.

Yeah, I totally agree. Still sweet.

I am reminded of the mother at the day care center I used to work at, who couldn't do her daughter's hair to save her life. They were both African American. All of us staff people were relieved when the mother started taking the little girl to a place to get her hair done.