As previously mentioned a few times, I live in Ann Arbor, and so was right in the worst band of Wednesday’s epic ice storm. Which wasn’t a storm so much as ten hours of steady, freezing rain that coated everything in a quarter inch (minimum) of ice. It was extremely pretty, and it absolutely catastrophic to the power infrastructure. Trees broke under the weight, often taking power lines, roofs, and cars with them. Power lines themselves gave out, even with the insulation they get this far north. It looked like a lightning storm, as things variously melted and exploded. Over 500,000 people lost power Wednesday night, and 460,000 are still without. Including me.

Fortunately, I’ve been on this ride before, in the ice storm of 97 (pretty sure it was 97). We were down for three days, that time, and made it through by virtue of burning every candle we owned. So I stocked up, when I moved back to Michigan. I have also learned that, as a bus rider, I’d better always have a power bank and assorted cords on my person in case of delays or having to call a Lyft at the end of the day, so I also have three 10,000 mAh banks, and incidentally a K-TOR pedal generator tucked away in the closet.

Pursuant to this, I report the following:

12 pillar candles and 16 tea-lights will keep 950 square feet between 60 and 70 degrees, even when the temps hit 18 last night. (And also light the space decently; recommend 4 tea-lights per bathroom.)

Bolsius emergency candles are worth the money; we’re on hour 34 of candles rated for 43 hours, and I judge there’s still 12 hours in them. (I ordered another set of those asap.)

A decently insulated hot water heater will keep water heated for 10-20 hours, averaging “quite tepid” at 15 hours in a 65-degree apartment (so take those showers early).

Often, gas is still flowing, since those switches are usually manual, so a gas stovetop may be light-able by hand. (It’s soup and fry-up time, here.)

A tablet being used constantly for work/music/email/frustrated blogging lasts about 12 hours on a single full charge.

A 10,000 mAh power bank will charge a phone once to full, and a tablet once to 75%.

It takes about three hours, total, of pedaling on the K-TOR to re-charge a 10,000 mAh power bank. (Ow, my knees.)

It takes about four hours plugged in to a car that’s idling. (Yay for having a full gas tank.)

And everything feels much less dreadful when the sun comes out, plus it helps warm things up. Still not looking forward to cleaning out my fridge, but if it really does take three days again, this time, I should make it.

I should know better. I really should. I’ve lived in this state my whole life, barring twenty years in exile. And yet.

Me: [muttering as she kills yet another stink-bug] I really hope we get some real winter here soon, or the bugs will be unlivable next summer. Ugh.

Michigan Winter: [bursts through the door in classic Large Ham style] Did someone order… winter?

Me: [watching the mercury heading for zero Fahrenheit] Um.

It's snowing here. Big, fat, fluffy flakes. And it's just warm enough that they are sticking to /everything/ but not quite warm enough to all melt, so we have an inch or two of accumulation, and it looks like Winter Wonderland out there.

And it's not totally unprecedented, I mean this is Michigan, but mid-April is usually just cold snaps (like the past week) during which all the ephemerals hit the "pause" button and wait patiently to continue blooming without much bother. The whole "it looks like winter out the windows" is less common.

But it tickles my fancy, and it's Friday, and I don't have to be in another damn meeting until afternoon, so I'm going to have a Very Irish Coffee and maybe throw on a blanket and duck out to the porch for a while, because meteorological silliness like this deserves to be appreciated.

So, today I sorted all my winter coats to the back of the closet and changed out my Fall/Winter stained glass for my Spring/Summer stained glass, because Michigan has clearly decided that we are having a good and proper spring.

I decided on four things to cook, to exert control in my environment, and made the first, which is my personal variation on yakiniku. This is basically to drown the meat in mirin and soy overnight and then pan fry it until tender and caramelized. Works like a charm every time. Serve over rice, scatter with green onions, and mow down.

I also found out my car's battery is dead (no surprise, it's been going for a while) and therefore walked down to the post boxes, bareheaded in intermittent rain, which was really quite lovely.

And then I wrote some more WangXian. It started out as porn, turned into an Important Talk, and then LWJ apparently decided that the way to get this story back on track was to re-invent tantric sex. *baffled hand gestures* Shine on you crazy diamond, LWJ. I'm just along for the ride, at this point.

People moving to the Great Lakes basin from elsewhere often fret about tornadoes. I figure this is pretty much the same way I'd fret over earthquakes if I moved to the west coast. And whereas a long-time resident would blithely play guess-the-Richter, long-timers here just kind of shrug about tornadoes. They happen. Eh.

But you do get to recognize the signs.

When the sky is low and fast. When it's strangely warm and then abruptly cold. When the clouds have a greenish tinge and the light gets dusty looking and amber. When there are little dervishes kicking up persistently. These are the times one eyes up the sky and maybe wanders over to turn on the radio to listen for any warnings. One casually checks the location of the pets or the kids, just to know. One tries to recall, in the back of one's mind, where the battery powered radio is (or, these days, how much charge the iPod has).

Sharp response won't hit unless the siren actually goes off. That's when all the little, thoughtless preparations snap into gear, the adrenaline pumps, and it's Pets/Kids, Radio, Basement, Now. Breathe. Wait.

Waiting, predictably, is the hardest part.