Superhuman

It seems to me, that male characters are more readily allowed to have superhuman traits.  They take (or give) a punch and rarely suffer any ill effects, for example.  But female characters are expected to be mere mortals.  Not only that, but even “strong” female characters are expected to be rendered helpless by relationship drama in their lives.  The female characters don’t get the privilege of being superhuman—they aren’t allowed to shake off personal problems they way male characters do.  (Not to mention the fact that most male characters can actually stay focused on their job/ task/ plot and not be derailed by personal issues.) 

This is where Bo is an outlier… she is more like a male character.  But with all those fun female traits.  She gets to be sexy and smart and more capable than the average woman.  This too me sounds like a lot more fun than another average woman who gets her friends/ family in danger because she can’t think straight for more than two chapters in a row.

Perhaps this is the type of female character that is preferred?  Except, over in Urban Fantasy, women like Bo are more the norm. 

My Town Monday: the Upper Peninsula of Michigan

 
Michigan is one of those unique states.  We're a peninsula. TWO peninsulas, even.  And our peninsulas have more peninsulas on them-- not just puny ones, but big ol' peninsulas.  And if that doesn't sound suggestive to you... your mind is much cleaner than mine.

I reside in the Lower Peninsula, not too far from civilization.  But because the Upper Peninsula holds several neat land marks, there are times when a Michigander should venture up there.  Many Michiganders have cabins, "cabins" and vacation homes in the northern parts of Michigan, for hunting or just escaping (or "escaping") from city life.  The Upper Peninsula is largely unsettled, though.

It consists mainly of forests and coastlines along the Great Lakes.  Plus some tiny towns.  US-2 meanders along the bottom edge of the Upper Peninsula, heading West into Wisconsin.  This road, while being  US road, is not a highway (or freeway or limited access highways)-- the speed limit is 55mph.  There is no limited access highway across the UP from east to west.  I-75 goes from the tip of the Lower Peninsula up to Canada, but that's it for highways in the UP.

After all, moose, bear and snow mobiles don't use expressways.

In the UP, it's colder than the rest of the state.  Winter comes earlier and the snow is heavier and around longer.  This situation is in someways exacerbated by the proximity of the icy water of Lake Superior.  More lake effect snow (where extra snow is created by the moisture of the lake).  But the lake, allegedly, has a moderating affect on the temperature-- which also causes more snow since snow can't fall if it's too cold.

Ice does form on Lake Superior and in massive chunks.  It takes awful cold weather to cause ice to form on a body of water that cold.  This shot was from April.  In the part where I'm from, the ice was gone, but on the shore of Lake Superior, it was large, cold reminder that the Upper Peninsula is a different world.

Traveling through the UP is interesting.  There are few towns.  And those that do exist are very small.  Some are so small that they don't have gas stations (a little disconcerting when you're miles from nowhere!)  Others have quaint combination bar/ restaurant/ grocery store/ post office/ barber shops like existed once upon a time.  You can drive for hours without seeing other cars on the roads of the UP.  It's tranquil... until it gets really boring.

This is a main road heading into Munising in the UP.  It was pretty busy that morning...

I like making visit to the UP.  Sometimes I imagine living in one of the small cities up there.  But only if I could work from home and never have to drive in the thick snow or go out in the cold.  You know, hibernate.  With high speed internet.  But it sure is pretty up there.

Join us for My Town Monday

My Town Monday: How to Complain About Michigan Weather

Michiganders love to complain about the weather.  There are some guidelines for these complaints, though, so everyone is on the same page.

If it's in the thirtys and snowy in January or February, complain about it being too snowy.
If it's below zero in January, complain about it being too cold (and ask where's global warming?!?)
If it snows in January or February, complain about how you're done with winter already.

If it's still below freezing any time in March, complain that it's supposed to be spring (and ask where's global warming.)
If it's warm in early spring, complain that everything is muddy from the melting snow.
If there's snow in late March, complain about how you're sooooo tired of winter!
If it's warm during the day, but cold at night in March, complain about how cold it is at night, as if it's some anomaly.

If it's in the 70s before June, complain about how long winter was.
If it rains a lot in March, April, or May, complain about the dreary weather and you're ready for summer.
If it's below freezing at any time in the spring, complain about how winter is supposed to be over!  (Don't forget to ask where global warming is.)

If it's over 80 in early summer, complain about the humidity or complain about how it's too early in the summer for heat like that.
If it's below 40 any time in early summer, complain about how it's still cold and how summer's NEVER going to start.
If it's hot and dry during the summer, complain about how brown and burnt all the plants are.  If you live on a lake, complain about low lake levels.
If it's hot and humid during the late summer, start complaining about how you're ready for fall.
If the temperature is in the 70s, complain about how cold the store air conditioning is or about how it's not hot enough.

If the temperature drops below 50 in September, complain about how you're not ready for summer to end.
If the temperature shoots up to 80s in September, complain about how you're done with summer.
If it's cold and wet on Halloween, complain about how it's always cold and wet on Halloween.

If it's below 40 in November, complain about how you're not ready for winter.

If it snows more than once in December, each subsequent time requires complaining about how you're done with snow already, even though it's barely started. 

That about covers it.  Happy complaining!

My Town Monday: Ice Harvesting Exhibit at the CoBACH Center

The old town hall in Brighton was recently repurposed for use by the the Brighton Area Historical Society.  They've been doing some different exhibits.  For the month of February, it's ice harvesting, which was a huge industry in the early 1900s, not just in Livingston County but in many colder climates.  During the winter, local residents and migrant workers would score the ice and break it into large blocks. It would be stored in ice houses along the shore.  During the summer months, the ice houses would be slowly emptied of their ice. 

The CoBACH center (City of Brighton Art, Culture, and History Center) borrowed some items from the Port Huron Ice Harvesting Museum and set up a rather nice display.  There were local photos of the ice houses and information about the tools of the trade.  They also made a mock up of a small ice house. 








I went there with Hubby and my Baby Son and we happened to go at the right time, I think.  One of the leaders of the Brighton Area Historical Society was there giving a well-informed tour.  My son was fixated on the sound of the tour guides voice, which was amusing.  (The kid's only 8 months old, so I'm sure he wasn't that interested in ice harvesting.) 

 This is an image of the Mill Pond in Brighton.  You can see the ice house on the shore past the boaters.
Here's some more recent images of the Mill Pond.  The ice house sat where the brick building (barely visible over the bridge in the second photo) is today. 

There's one more week of the Ice Harvesting Exhibit.  I wonder what slice of local history will be displayed next? 

My Town Monday: 6 More Weeks of Winter

Puxatawny Phil predicted an early spring.  Livingston County's own woodchuck (aka groundhog) Woody predicted 6 more weeks of winter.  Now, Woody's record is 9/12 correct so far, so my money is on her.

That said, in Michigan, 6 more weeks of winter WOULD be an early spring.  Sure, the vernal equinox falls March 21st (ish), which is about 6 weeks after February 2nd, but that's hardly the start of spring in the Mitten shaped state.  Not weather wise at any rate.  There is often still snow on the ground and one last snowfall in late March. 












Spring doesn't really start here until mid or late April.  That's when the weather starts to stay above freezing during the day.  And the sun comes out from behind never ending piles of gray clouds.  It feels so good to Michiganders, that winter coats are often prematurely shed in the "warm" weather.  By the end of April, it feels like spring is finally starting.


That's also the start of road construction season...

My Town Monday: Snow Storm

Snow is part of Michigan winters.  And that includes the occasional snow storm.  The Big One last Wednesday was a bit overhyped in my area, and, as with all things overbyped, it did not live up to the predictions.  In my area, we got about 6 inches of snow. 

This is about the amount needed to shut the area down for a day or so.  Livingston County is part rural, part suburb-- but not a very dense suburb.  It is largely a bedroom community to places like Ann Arbor and Detroit.

  

So, the snow fell.  It piled up on top of the previous inches-- I think there was about 6 inches from prior snowfalls currently on the ground.











My driveway was complete obscured by the falling and blowing snow.  I'm standing next to my garage.  The road is past the fence.  This driveway is only marginally longer than average.

Yes, we have a snowblower.  

One of the most interesting thing about the last snow storm was how quite the world got.  Few cars ventured out most of the next day. I rather liked it myself. 

Also absent from the roads were snow plows.  I live on a main road heading into one of the two larger towns in the county.  Well, it's called a city, but it's not very big.  (I know, it's a term that defines local government size and function more so than population size and density.)  Anyway, usually this road is one of the first and best plowed, being that about a mile away it turns into Main Street.  But even at 1 in the afternoon, the road is still snow covered. 

Not bad though.  One could easily get around in this sort of snow fall.  I don't care much for driving in snow-- but that's just because other drives don't have the sense to slow down and exercise caution. 

I happen to like when the snow comes down and the world is quiet.  It's peaceful.  There's nothing quite like the barely perceptible sound of snow falling-- yes, it has a sound. 

FFF 8: Time

I'm a little late this week... partly because I still thought the deadlines for F3 were Friday.  And partly because I really just need the whole week.  =/  I'm gonna keep trying the prompts, when they tickle my muse, but I already know I'm not gonna make any Wednesday deadlines.  ESPECIALLY not Wednesdays!

Anyway, here's my story for F3 #8...



Wasting Time
A Bo Fexler Story

The clock ticked off the seconds, each a piercing reminder that time moved forward.  It was already late on a bitter cold night.  The heat had turned off for the night—and the long holiday weekend—in the office building.  The cold workspaces, extra clean by some managerial mandate, were even more impersonal in the dropping temperature.

My shoulders were tensed, as if doing so would contain what little body heat remained in my body.  My fingers were so numb that I could barely feel the shape of the mouse as I navigated with it. 

Without the intermittent whooshing and humming of the heating system, the office was still, lifeless.  Only the barely perceptible whir of the computer fan, the faint click of the mouse button, and the interminable ticking of a clock on the desk next to the computer broke the still stillness. 

Everyone that normally worked in that office building was off doing holiday related things.  If not enjoying their families for Thanksgiving, they were tolerating them with whatever coping methods or alcohol they could manage, or just plain avoiding them at home or at the bar.  The Wednesday night before Thanksgiving is the biggest bar night of the year.  Few people work that night—besides the standard retail workers, law enforcement and emergency responders, and bartenders.  The occasional private investigator will put in a few hours, checking to make sure that a certain spouse is actually working late, rather than finding unauthorized reasons for giving thanks.  Then they, too, would join one of the normal Thanksgiving activities.  Being a PI, like being a cop, can be hard on personal relationships, though, with the odd hours and spying and trust issues that come with watching everyday people betray the trust of those who care for them. 

Luckily, I had trust issues long before I entered the PI business.  It makes the job easier.

The holidays no longer have any meaning for me beyond the normal ebb and flow of business as people increase or decrease their need to know the truth.  It’s just part of the passing of time.  One month to the next, one year to the next. 

I tucked my hands under my arm pits, trying desperately to restore some feeling to them, while the computer considered my request.  Fittingly, the machine turned a digital hour glass while we waited.  The sand grains didn’t move though.  It was an old machine, running an old operating system.  It made my job both easier and harder.  Security on that old computer was something of a joke.  And the man who used that machine wasn’t very good with computers.  The collection of empty folders named New Folder was amusing. 

The man who worked on that computer was at home with his wife and grown child.  According to the wife when she called me, he was pretty well trashed too.  That was why she'd asked if I was busy—or more importantly, was my time claimed by anyone else that holiday-eve.

 She'd first thought maybe he was staying out late because he was having an affair with some office girl.  But a couple days of surveillqnce showed that the husband was the last to leave his office, and did so well after everyone else.  Sometimes, he'd return to the office after a few hours at home, claiming he had things to do.  He had agreed to stay home the night before Thanksgiving, but promptly got plastered.  That meant she could take his keys—under the guise of keeping him from driving drunk.

So, while he was drunk, and his wife was working on a bottle of wine, I was snooping around the man's computer.  It looked like he had saved everything in the My Documents folder, without even the benefit of sub folders for organization.  Except there was another folder, buried among the system folders.  It was also named 'New Folder' but it wasn't empty.  It was quite full, actually.  Full of movies mainly, with the occaisional picture, too.  Renaming files was not part of his skill set, so I was able to tell the content without actually having to watch any of them.They had titles like Girl Takes Huge Dick and Young Blonde Likes Getting Rammed.  Not even any flicks about anal or threesomes.  As far as porn went, it was tame.    

I rummaged around in the man's internet history.  Nothing much there.  A couple porn sites, some random searches for trivia bits-- the sort of things people talk about in the break room and then Google to find out who was right-- and some searches for local addresses.  I searched for the addresses and found he'd gone looking for a bar, a floor covering outlet, two restaurants, and a sex toy store. 

With his not updated web browser, I was able to access his email, even though he'd logged out.  The session cookie was still available, so hitting the back browser until it activated the session cookie.  Except it wasn't worth the technical know how.

How the hell was I going to write up the report on this case? The man wasn't sleeping around.  He seemed to be avoiding his wife by going to the office after hours and, while there, watched porn.  And probably jerked off.   He had enough videos that he could watch for days.  Plus, given the dates on the files, it appeared that he went hunting for more every three or four days. 

 Hopefully she could accept that her husband was passing his time with porn and masturbation.  More likely, she would claim the investigation was a waste of time. 

For me, though, finding answers, no matter how mundane or disappointing, is never a waste of time.

Besides, I get paid pretty damn well for my time. 

END