Tackling the Weeds

My Dad had built a bricked patio around the in ground pool at the last house they owned, the one I mentioned on the intro. There had been stones within a cement apron which wound around the pool area. He got tired of us bringing the stones into the pool while playing. His solution, bricks. This project was CLASSIC DAD. Call in a professional? Get a friggin grip people. I CAN DO THAT!

Now I was in the Navy at that time so wasn't around for the actual 'work'. My cousin Tony had assisted. Wish now I could recall the exact amount of bricks that my Dad frequently told me had been used, but know it was well over 4,000. Before he and Tony began they posed atop the newly installed diving board.

 Now 24 years later, I sat on the back porch steps looking at the tools for tackling the weeds. Weeds which insisted on growing among the bricks. 4000 bricks x 4 sides + inner and outer edge of the cement apron=ONE HELL OF A LOT OF WEEDS. Determined buggers! This was the first summer of the year my Dad passed and in the big picture of work to be done, the weeds were not even in the top 100. So, with that in mind, I'd just spent $50 on the bottle of concentrated Round Up. There had been some in the working bottle which had gotten me maybe 25% the way around the pool. The $50 cost had been enough to make me gag but now that I'd done that, I felt committed to the project. At least I could check 'weeds in bricks' off the list, probably #4346 but HEY, CROSSED IT OFF MY LIST.

This job was just one of the hundreds of to do's my Dad and I had fenced about over the years. Removing Weeds: The first few years he tackled them with a paring knife, bucket, stool and tiny shovel, the Dad approved Method du Jour for 'weeds out from between the bricks'. When I had tried to help out, by leaning over and pulling them out, it had quickly turned into our standard..... Dad: "Let me show you how to do it". Me: " How to pull out a weed? I already know, Watch.....see." Dad: " no no no, that may tear it out without the roots. You put the knife down an inch away and moving the knife up under the weed so you can get the root." Me: "Hm, wouldn't it be easier just to reach down and yank it out. The one you just did your way left the root in anyway, Look!" Dad: heading back for the root with the knife "Then you go back and get it if it didn't come out the first time." Me: {How friggin stupid is that because...} "Hey, didn't you do all the weeds just a few weeks ago just like that? Then why are all these weeds here now. Seems to be getting the roots really isn't going to stop them, they're weeds for God's sake." Dad: "Just FORGET IT, I'll do it myself". Me: {Okey Dokey Dad-even if I did it your way I'd come out to find you 'redoing' it anyway because IT STILL WOULDN'T BE RIGHT!}

Me: "Call if you need me.....Have fun"

Now my Dad wasn't obsessive about weeds, or the lawn or loading the dishwasher. But he could be obsessive about EXACTLY HOW TO do those things. Always with a explanation of the history of weeds, lawns or dishwashers, exactly how the weeds, lawns, or dishwasher grew or operated and why based on that information it was vital to do it his way. Me: "I still don't see why its not just as good to yank them out?"

This same scenario had been played out since FOREVER. With me, my mother, my brother, his sailors when he was in the Navy, with students he subbed for at the local High School the last 20 years, his mother and siblings and the rest of the world.

But over the years as his health had declined I noticed the stool, tiny shovel, paring knife and bucket hadn't been sitting on the bricks, but the Round Up had appeared. Stored in the Little House next to the stool, tiny shovel, paring knife and bucket. {Dad: Leave them right there, I'll need them later}.

So still grieving for my Dad, as everything I did reminded me of him, I was ready with the new bottle of Round Up I'd mixed. Quick Draw McGraw Weed Warrior......I pulled the handle back, held it for a mo' and pulled the trigger...........pulled the trigger..........BUGGER! It worked fine yesterday.

As would and has happened thousands of times since I lost my Dad I found myself with a dilemma. But this was the first time I was mentally confronting Dad's Way vs Mom's Way. Dad's Way=Fix it, no matter how cheap to replace rather than buy what might be needed for repair.  Mom's Way=Go buy a new...sprayer or another Round up with sprayer, call a landscape company. But I sat and starred at this cheap plastic piece of broken sh** thinking HM BET I CAN FIX THAT! And thanking 'whoever' that my Mom wasn't up at the house standing at the kitchen door saying her things to me at that moment.

So I pried the sprayer apart and looked it over. Tubes, a spring, the actual piece between the tube and the nozzle, cap and tube into the container. I took it apart watching as the spring went airborne. Fetched the spring back. I tapped the nozzle and put a piece of wire into the front in case it was clogged. I saw no blockage in the tube. So I put it back together, stood up, pulled the handle back and it wouldn't stay. CRAP.

In my head my Dad is saying, 'We can fix it'. In my imagination my Mom standing at the storm door saying 'Just go buy one'. So this time I took the sprayer off the bottle and took it into the kitchen by the sink. I took it apart again careful to capture the spring. I removed the tube from the back end of the nozzle and blew into it to see if I could dislodge anything clogging it.

Oh, I learned a very important lesson at this point. ROUND UP TASTES TERRIBLE. Just blowing on the end of the tube I could taste it for the next hour.

 I took the tube and put it under the faucet and ran water through it and heard something dislodge. Hot Damn! In my head I heard my Dad say, "that's good but check the nozzle just in case also. No need to have to pull it apart again". I ran the water over the nozzle and cleaned it up.

I put it together tapping it closed even though plastic easily would come apart with little effort. I walked the sprayer and cap back out to the porch. Put the tube from the cap into the bottle and screwed the cap on tight. I pulled the handle back, held it for a few seconds, pointed the nozzle at a weed and pulled the trigger. TAKE THAT WEED!

I felt my Dad watching. Nodding his approval. I heard "Knew you could fix it". And cried while I finished spraying the bricks.