November 17th, 2009

helpful nudge, japanese garden with amber

Even though I'm not Dragaeran

The magic number is 17.

That is: yesterday I got my steady time as usual, and instead of stopping in the 3-6 hour range, it continued for 17 hours straight. Seventeen hours without vertigo! That's the longest stretch I've had in two years. I got a full night's sleep without dreaming of space stations malfunctioning or carnival rides malfunctioning or anything, anything at all malfunctioning.

It ended this morning, about an hour ago--I am dizzy, vertiginous, unbalanced again. And I have to admit that even after all this time there was a part of me that thought, "Maybe I'm just done now. Maybe I don't have to deal with this stuff any more," and was disappointed when that proved not to be the case.

But 17 hours. This is what we call progress. Maybe. We hope. Otherwise it's what we call a really nice fluke. But we're hoping it's what we call progress.
frustrated

Telmarines and wiktory

I can't tell whether the vertigo feels really bad tonight because it is or because of contrast with the complete lack this morning. Ah well.

Those of you who have visited us and looked out the back windows or doors know that the back of our property is wooded. There is a wooded strip starting with our southern neighbors and extending north of us until you get to the lake. Except that today our northern neighbors have decided to be Telmarines. They hired a company to come in and dribble gasoline on our lawn and drive and walk all over it and park right in front of our house, blocking our mailbox--and guess what? The mailbeing does not deliver here when you block the mailbox--and making a great deal of noise and smell and chaos all day long. Hmm. Okay, to be fair to the Telmarines, I doubt this was their primary aim in hiring this company. Their primary aim seems to have been getting rid of lots and lots of trees, most of them healthy young birches and poplars, and also a bunch of scrub bush and underbrush beneath them. We were already, since we live in Minnesota, nr lk in real estate parlance. (Because--as I have said before and will say again--the whole state is nr lk.) Now we have lk vw, not just in winter but all year round. I like lakes, or I wouldn't live here. I even like this lake. But it turns out I like trees, too, and we were not short of lakes. And who is it that brings in machines to chop down the trees and make unpleasant noises and build a bridge over the Ford of Beruna? Telmarines. I know this one. I read it ages ago.

I'm sure I will get used to it. But I like being able to completely ignore our neighbors behind us for most of the year. I will miss it. It makes me want to plant a row of alternating ash and fir on the side yard until I'm sure they're going back through the door in the air to Telmar. (Not that I'd cut them down if they did go.) I would even be fine if it was a row of cherry and plum. Maple and spruce. I am flexible. I am just not terribly flexible about lack of trees.

(Note: I'm quite clear that this is their property and they may do as they wish with it. There are miles and miles between "you have no right" and "I wish you wouldn't.")

In more wiktorious news, the ban on brussels sprouts in the house has ended! I am so pleased. timprov was drawn in by a stalk of beautiful fresh ones at Byerly's, and I roasted them, and we discovered that while neither markgritter nor timprov is now turning cartwheels of joy over the prospect of brussels sprouts, neither are they fleeing through the door in the air to Telmar to get away from the smell, so we have an approach that will allow me to get my brussels sprouts fix without anyone else feeling that their home is unbearable. And the roasted brussels sprouts were nice enough and brussels sproutsy enough that I do not feel that I will pine away for braised or steamed. So there's that.