OK, Time to Pull Some Loose Ends

Now I'm a multi~tasker by nature but I'm at a loss at what to go back to? little joke, very little joke. So although the summer is 2/3 of the way over, I'll go back to the pool filter first.

43 years and my Dad kept it on life support most of the last 15 years. I CPR'd it, badly, the last 2 summers and then the 'dyke broke'....did say I ordered a new one? It was really a very difficult thing to face. On a practical level another expense which won't assist to sell the property. Pools are not BIG lures. But when you have a 43 year old swimming hole, which would cost a fortune to build in this day and age....inground cement bottom and steel sided pool, you have 2 choices. The first is to drain it. The cost of 'filling' the hole is excessive. And a big empty cement hole=major safety hazard and would always be filled with debris blown from the fields. Constant upkeep housekeeping wise, a lose/lose. Thus the big 'showing point' would be a chipped paint cement and sides with growing crap blown in? Raise your hands....who thinks we should vote for that?

Or we could do what I've been doing for 3 years, cover it properly in the winter and open and maintain it during the summer.

Now as I mentioned...a pool isn't a big draw for a buyer. And most normally will either not use it or fill it. Or they can have a trash hole in their backyards, not my problem. BUT, when its on the market it is far more attractive to have a well maintained pool than the hole. So back to my dilemma. I would be having a new filter installed. Difficult as in $$$ and effort but practical. But on a personal level it meant I'd failed. I left my Dad down. I know if he had lived and been 'up' to the work he no doubt would have found a way to keep it working. I couldn't, I failed. And now I was replacing his filter. Watching that filter being disassembled, cut up and taken away was bound to be painful. I failed. 

I went up to the house the morning of the installation feeling very bad although at that moment I hadn't identified why I felt so badly. 

The van from the pool company pulled into the dirt road next to the house obviously unsure as to where to park. The driveway wasn't an option as the filter had to be unloaded and the old filter pieces loaded. So I walked over to the van to discuss their options. The young man in the passenger seat-a grizzly adams sort-pulled off his sunglasses and said "Do you know who I am?" I didn't. So he said "its Lemar." 

And I felt a relief I hadn't expected. The young man is my 1st cousin/once removed, the son of my father's only brother's son.  

Lemar Graybill/Carl Walter Van Hyning

My uncle's only son is my cousin Lemar Graybill Van Hyning II. The young man in the van is Lemar Graybill Van Hyning III.

Susan Elizabeth Van Hyning/Lemar Graybill Van Hyning III

Now I knew I would be able to watch the old filter leave. I realize many may be skeptical about woo-woo paranormal issues. I don't make decisions on woo-woo. But I've had enough happen to me in that area to decide I have no clue why/how strange things occur, I just know they do. And somehow I just knew this was a message sent from 'over there'. My Dad was telling me it was alright, I wasn't a failure. I did my best and the new filter was fine. Why was my cousin there? I can believe he was 'sent' by my Dad. I can believe its part of some big cosmic 12 act play. I can believe it was dumb luck. Doesn't matter, over the next hour plus Lemar and his supervisor/co-worker did their job. The supervisor just seemed to understand the situation and encouraged my cousin to do the work to disassemble the old filter.

So first they cut it apart.

Then bit by bit they shoveled the sand out into buckets. We dumped the sand in the field.

The new filter was installed and the old and tired filter went into the van. It was done. Before they left all was up and running. And somehow the dread went with it. Yes, I failed to fix it but I knew it was alright, I'd done my best.

Thanks Lemar, thanks Daddy, thanks 'whatever'.

Back to Jr John Deere

Having been given some solid input on the oil plug I went back to it. A few times the last week I've attempted to turn it but quickly get frustrated and walk away. Then, being a typical ADHDer I began looking at the trees and bushes around the house. HM, bet I can trim EVERYTHING. And also being a typical ADHDer...I'll get back to telling about that later. Because while slaying wood and repairing chain~saw, on one of my forays over for yet another try at the oil plug, I got it closed. I had finally sat down next to the Jr JD after a few successful turns and noticed I could see through the drain hole...but only partially Could that be significant? So reaching in and getting a hold of the knob I turned and saw a rod move inside the drain hole. AH HA! Keeping an eye on the hole I turned the knob, of course opening it further. OK, turning it the other way I saw the rod move past the hole until all I saw was rod....NO HOLE. Could it be closed? Only one way to find out......

I stood up and twisted off the oil cap and then took the cap off the gallon of oil-or what remained of it after pouring it in/out/in/out/in......of the Jr JD days ago. I poured and it didn't come out. After a bit of happy dancing I got enough oil in to register on the dip stick and then slowly got it to the 'full' spot. Score: Susan 2. Battery and Oil. Turned the key and cranking away but didn't start.

Next step was the spark plug. A friend visited that day who had happened to just change her spark plug on a mulcher. And said she had to purchase the tool to do the job. Now, my Dad-in my view-had enough tools to repair Boston. So in we went to search. But it seems as I recall that my brother had taken a large portion of the ratchet side of the wrench world. Gobel and I searched a while but no spark plug piece, although some handles which would fit in the tight space. When she went home that night she called and told me she would run her tool over the next morning in case it fit.

Going up to the house the next morning I hunted again. And I found a circular fitting about 2 inches long-so it would fit far enough into the spark plug shaft and when I looked at it, it actually said 'SPARK PLUG'. Duh!!!! Then I selected a handle which I could slide the fitting end to end in the tiny space. Popped it on and....step back Fred!!....it fit! Within seconds I had the spark plug sitting in my greasy hand. Cleaned it, went in and read the manual which told me how to test it. Out I go. Hm, maybe I should stick the end of it back in that little rubber cover before I hold it again a bolt attached to the engine and turn the key. YA THINK? Got a spark, reinstalled, turned the key, cranked away and didn't start.

Next the manual said to change the fuel filter. A bit more challenging got it off but somehow the fuel knob is exactly opposite what it said in the manual. After spilling quite a bit of fuel while fumbling about I turned the knob back onto the 'ON' position per the manual....closed. After I looked at all the fuel filters in Walmart and seeing none 'exactly' but 'looks like that MIGHT fit' picked up a Fram G12. Wrestled it on, knob to 'OFF' per book but on for my Jr JD.....turned key, cranked away but didn't start.

Next the manual told me to go to a John Deere repairman. Wanna bet???? Next I'm going to the carburetor!!!!

Thoughts surface after episode of THE FIRST 48

A few nights ago I was watching an episode of The First 48 on A&E. For those of you unfamiliar with the show, a quick overview. The show chronicles cases from various  Homicide Divisions and each episode opens with 2 cases in 2 cities. Through the first 48 hours of a crime it follows the investigation, progress or lack of, of each case. Some scenes may be days, weeks or even months after, should information surface toward resolution and arrest of a suspect. Over the years most cases followed seem to lead to the arrest of a suspect, 'roll credits'. The last few years the standard show format has begun to periodically return to those arrests and the results of any charges. 

Of course this gives a sort of 'the end' to some cases. But as anyone who has been victimized knows, it never really ends. Particularly when the crime was a murder. Those who love the victim are themselves victims, as they exist until their deaths having hopefully come to 'terms' with everything. For many though, coming to 'terms' means fear, loss, anger, and grief. Much as those left behind due to Alzheimer's, whether due to the release of a person afflicted or the pain as their existence continues while their minds vanish, in some form we come to 'terms'. 

One of the shows detailing the suspects through trials end made me stop and think on the subject of what I have done, am doing and will do with my father's 'stuff'. I had mentioned hoarding before but that isn't really crux of this particular mind-meander. It is the usefulness and care of personal belongings, why we attach ourselves to 'things' and the value we place on them. And 'things' can run the gamut from 'junk' to 'valuable'. 

My intent has always been to humor and amuse with all my writing and I've done  much sorting and disposing before this blog began. But the process hasn't been 100% humorous. At the beginning there was a lot of unexpected waves of grief that seemed to arrive like a tsunami after an earthquake. And even today, albeit rare, I can still be unexpectedly knocked on my 'ass' simply picking up a tool or a book of my father's. Which is why the father on a THE FIRST 48 was so poignant.

He had lost his son through murder. And finally endured the trial and sentencing of the individual deemed to have committed the murder. At the end of the show he was washing and cleaning a car, speaking of his son~the car~and himself. The car was a wreck. Could it have been repaired and used again? Maybe. I tend to think with enough obstinate hard work most objects can often be made usable again. But this car? The hood was bent straight upward, obviously from impact. The steering wheel was angled toward the passenger seat, windows broken. No doubt the body damage to the entire front end was significant but unseen. The engine? Multiple issues just by looking at the hood stuck straight toward heaven. Certainly inside evidence of the murder of his son from being shot. Plus personal items left in the car.

This man was washing and polishing this heap of a vehicle where his son had ended his life. He spoke while he worked about how this was one of the last things he and his son did together. Detailing this vehicle. It seems the son had recently acquired the car and his father shared his joy by lovingly joining the son in sprucing it up. And every so often he would do just as he was now, keep the car clean and polished.

I saw struck by the depths of grief the man carried for the loss of his only son. I know he was doing this because it was one way he could still feel close and relive the joy they shared. But for myself it also gave me great pain to watch this man caring for this wreck of a car. I understood, but my wish for the man was he would be able to move beyond remembering his son by cleaning and polishing a destroyed vehicle..... a vehicle where his son was murdered.

I reflected on the last 2+ years of my journey, through all the work at this house. Many, including my mother, question why? Why do you want THAT? What are you going to do with THAT? Are you really EVER going to use THAT? Normally I smile and say I like it or want it, I'll use to to fix something, I used it yesterday. And I have used so many things to figure out and fix things.   Many are skeptical and I accept that. As time progresses I'll provide chuckles about what I've found and the big hoot HOW MANY X, Y, or Zs of an item I've discovered. And that is 'after' I've thrown many things out. 

But sometimes the questions are painful. And sometimes I just want to scream....WHOSE 'FRIGGIN' BUSINESS IS IT 'IF or WHAT' I KEEP.  Its my Mothers as she owns everything. But the home is paid for and no one yet has chosen to purchase it. What does it matter if there are 27 hammers that I've put in a box-it doesn't. Has anyone else done any work at cleaning, collecting, organizing, disposing of ANYTHING? Has anyone offered to HELP me as I mow a yard, struggle with a pool, haul furniture or fill a truck with metal which earned my mother $26? 
Does anyone care that when I find a saw, wooden handle with a red plastic embossed label with VAN HYNING on it, that I see my Dad using it as I watched? No. No one related or responsible for dealing with this task has done any work, asked if they can help or can see my memories.  Some are physically unable and I am fine with that. Some have obligations but when were present to assist, ultimately did little with the overall task. I'm eternally grateful to one who dealt with the packing of my fathers clothing, which at the time I was incapable of managing. Actually all in all I'm grateful to have been left to slog through solo, not having to hear 'why', 'you're doing it wrong', or 'lets just throw it out'.

Like the man, I treasure what keeps me close to my Dad. I believe most of what I have kept is serving a purpose and is needed. And even those things others question.... I know why I keep them and much has even been disposed of since someone first ask the question. There is a time=disposal factor. What I could not touch or consider putting in a trash can 2 years ago......I now can and each time I've gone through items more and more go into the trash. That is the process of grieving and there isn't one hard and fast rule as to how each takes that journey. The only hope is that we continue to keep moving.....at the end of the episode of THE FIRST 48 I found myself wishing for that father.....he could soon stop cleaning and polishing that car.

Replacing the Pool Filter Motor

At the close of the last post regarding year 2 of Pool Wars I was standing looking at a dead motor. And I had ordered and received the $300 replacement. Now my Dad was an electrician in the Navy so over the years he did any work associated with electrical  issues. But I knew that over the last few years there were wiring issues in the house that needed repair or replacement. Plus periodically, when flipping the switch behind the filter, it wouldn't engage. My guess was a loose wire causing a short. But this wasn't a lamp or a fuse, this pump motor was hard wired. And with the house heading toward FOR SALE, I just didn't want to take a chance. My brother had given me a quick verbal rundown on 'how to' and it seemed something I could accomplish, but my concern was should anything fail causing an electrical fire it was important that a licensed electrician had done the work. Plus the outlet by the pool wasn't working and one by one several outlets in both the house and Little House ceased to work. So I called an electrician.

This is one of those moments, of many, when my Mother weighed in. I went home, explained the status and informed her a electrician would come the next day to do it all. She looked up and said "Your father always did that sort of work." Now it wasn't said like a question, just a flat statement. I just stood there, even looking around and at myself...maybe my Dad had materialized or I'd morphed into my Dad....until I finally said, "Ah, I'm not Dad and I think a licensed electrician is needed". Still looking at me in what I've learned years ago as the 'you aren't correctly interrupting what I'm saying', I waited. Finally she gave up and concurred.

The next day I arrived at the house and began to realize that the electrician would wire the pump but I really should have the pump ready for that to happen. For 2 hours--I struggled with the filter/pump motor area. At this point the 42 year old filter has essentially been held together with epoxy, so a simple pipe wrench, screwdriver and muscle may not detach the filter/pump motor. All those tools I'd organized for over a year gave me the hardware I needed. I used several pipe wrenches and 2 screwdrivers but often simply turning the PCV wasn't possible--EPOXY. Plus I didn't want to break any old repaired areas in removing the unit. Finally aided by a vast array of 'sailor speak' I had detached 1. and 2. with no damage. (see photo)  But detaching the actual  filter/pump motor from the aged round unit holding the sand? And no matter what I did, the fitting where it would logically be removed, wouldn't budge from the unit side. But the threaded portion attached to the filter/pump motor-that would move. (above the right corner of the photo)

 My only option at this point was to unscrew the filter/pump motor from the main filter, and I mean by rotating the entire filter/pump motor. So, for the next 40 minutes I turned it bit by bit, until it detached. I was able to lift it off and set in its place the replacement and just as the electrician pulled into the driveway. He quickly hard wired it back together and it worked. He found that a fuse in the Little House was all that was needed to fix half the outlets. Like endless times since my Dad passed, I walked to the cellar and pulled out a tiny drawer in the metal box and pulled out exactly what was needed, a 20 amp fuse. The other half of the outlets.....Duh Moment, the outlet box on the cement patio on the back of the house? Fixed by pushing the reset switch.

After the electrician departed and only a $75 invoice, which I thought was good value for the money, I fired up the pump and began getting the pool fit for swimming. After that, pool wise, it was a fairly good summer. No one but me swimming in the pool which makes it difficult to keep algae at bay but I enjoyed the pool between lawn mowing, sorting possessions, trimming hedges and dealing with the 'caretaker'.

Then Yesterday After 24 Hours...

Grass is growing despite the fact, 'it' must know I have lawn mower issues, so up to the house to do my job, House Serf in Charge of Everything. I check the pool, needs work. I unlock the back door and inspect the house, opening doors and rigging my computer and other toys-for mental and physical health breaks. I go out and check my epoxy. It held. Seems the epoxy was keeping it nominally attached but stretched when pulling on the handle, no doubt normal use would separate the two pieces. Probably wouldn't have to be as careful but as the grass wasn't ready to be cut, I slathered on another big layer of epoxy. 

Today would the B&S be ready to mow? Well, it did still stretch after the second layer but it also seemed a bit stronger. In an unexpected and seldom experienced flash of insight, AH HA! Having collected into a bucket in the initial clean~up of the Little House, just 1 of many collections into buckets/boxes/piles- were bungee cords!!!

Why not? Was I going to become a social outcast should a professional lawn mower/welder come along and see the blue bungee cord as I was whipping around the yard mowing? An even better question would be DID I GIVE A CRAP? Nope~Never~Not in a Million Years. But the most important question? BETWEEN THE EPOXY AND BUNGEE CORD WOULD I BE ABLE TO MOW WITHOUT CONSTANTLY PUTTING THE HANDLE END BACK INTO THE BRACKET???? No time like the present for to see. I pulled the cord.

 4 hours later, with a freshly coiffed lawn, a clean pool and some tools soaking in a vinegar bath--4 feet of water in the basement, filling up everything underwater including ammo boxes full of TOOLS creates RUST, I packed up to go home. Hopped into Dad's car, which I've been driving since he left us, stuck the key in and turned it~~ THE BATTERY WAS DEAD. Excuse me~I suspect several hours of SAILOR SPEAK is about to occur.............. 

And Now a Brief Message from our...

OK, just joking. Sort of. My Jr. John Deere has been elevated to 'no longer can do that tomorrow' status. And since I haven't updated or frankly even BEGUN that absorbing tale, I'll just explain why the alteration in status.

While the step by step toward repair of the Jr John Deere is progressing- it went on life support last October-I have been mowing the lawn with a Briggs & Stratton. Which no doubt has also not been serviced in the last 5 years. My Father was diligent about such things but the last few years it obviously was not done. I've been using the B&S and for the 3rd summer its hanging in there. Well, OK, its running. Fine...

It cuts the grass.....

 

Two of the covers on the engine have dropped off, I STILL HAVE THEM.

And that nifty little safety guard over where the grass blows out, its with the other 2 covers resting nicely in the Little House. Yea yea yea, covers are there for a reason, like maybe safety? But honestly the grass blows out much nicer without that little raise-able piece and I no longer have to take care driving around things. Somehow I was always getting stuck and having to pull it back, no doubt its why it fell off. Now I can make nice close runs right next to everything from trees to wheelbarrows.

Anyway, last week when I mowed the grass and went to refill the gas tank, as I turned the corner to the Little House where the gas can was, it seemed to be a bit difficult to steer. So when I released the bar and it stopped I inspected to see if anything was strange. Any guesses? Took me a moment also. The Briggs & Stratton is a sleek, classy, all black, mean machine, so had to look closely. Ahhhhh.....

My eagle eye detected the problem, METAL STRESS. The left side of the U shaped steering mechanism, otherwise known as the HANDLE broke. Now if I were able to weld and IF I hadn't already bartered away the welder in exchange for moving heavy items and a week keeping my dog-I could weld it. Moving past the obviously impossible, I reviewed my options. Jr John Deere-yea yea should have put more work on that already. Duct Tape? Used the last of it on the 1968 Pool Filter {upcoming post}. Then I landed on the answer. EPOXY. I still had some left from the above mentioned filter so I would epoxy it together. But that took 24 hours to cure and I was half way through the lawn. So, in my best 'if car won't go into reverse always park the car so you can pull forward' method.....I wrestled it back into the bracket and went on mowing. Initially I had to hold the lever down while I 1-armed it back in place a half dozen times. But then I realized it was popping out when I pulled it backwards. Piece of cake, I won't pull it backwards That worked pretty well but sharp turns and at times careful backing still would make it flip out of the bracket. But I got the yard finished. And without once yelling at the mower or threatening it with the sledgehammer. Cool. Before I left that night I epoxied it right good! Next time?

POOL WARS~YEAR 2-OPENING THE POOL

The pool company closed the pool at the end of year 1 as a cover was needed due to my destroying the patched tarp. And they installed the cover, cover which had made the 'crop circle/square' and which I managed to roll, move and lift onto sawhorses this summer. Well, lift perhaps isn't exactly the best description of how I got the cover on top of the saw horses. What actually occurred was numerous attempts to lift it, all of which resulted in the toppling of one or both of the sawhorses, failure. My attempt to put it on a board and tilting the board on an angled sawhorse which I then valiantly attempted to sit upright also failed. Finally despite all defeats, with the end of the cover propped on the edge of one sawhorse I inched the cover up on one sawhorse and then aided by my vast reservoir of 'sailor speak' I slowly crawled it to a position across the 2 sawhorses. Hm, Bet I Can Figure THIS Out. TAKE THAT~~COVER AND SAWHORSES!

When the pool company closed the pool I did note they seemed to drop the water level much lower than my Dad ever had done. But they were the 'pool guys' and did fancy things, like celebrate the closing event with gushers of water blasting up from the skimmer, which they informed were 'blowing the lines'. And instead of the cinder blocks, railroad posts and field stones they filled these 15 bags with water. Well the 15 bags had two compartments with plugs....rather like those rafts we had a kids. You know the ones that normally didn't last til the next year? Assuring me they would anchor the cover, which extended several yards on all sides beyond the pool-think maybe they sold me one a bit too large....ME TOO! I could envision my pool cover transformed into a hot air balloon which, one day when I arrived at the house, I would observe it living nicely atop a stand of trees. It all survived the winter nicely and in place.

The second year I had them open the pool. Hindsight is the one that is 100%, right? I tried to clean most of the leaves off the cover and had pumped some of the standing water but as I'd never hired a company to open the pool I really didn't understand what 'prepare' meant to the 'pool guys'. After 1 'pool guy' pumped a bit of water off the top and removed a large portion of the leaves and the other 'pool guy' had reassembled the pump they pulled a corner of the cover off to look at the water. At which point seeing how low the water in the pool was, the 'pool guy' looked at me and said "Did you order a water truck?" {15 years ago that bill was $600-think NOT 'pool guy'}. "NO, no water truck." Silence.

'Pool Guys' next question was "You don't have a well do you?" Hearing my therapist's voice in my head saying "congratulations on using your impulse control Susan," as severe impulsivity is key in my ADHD-I decided not to look around at the fields, streams, trees and farm buildings in mock horror and yell OH MY GOD, WE HAVE A WELL....NOT CITY WATER!! Instead I calmly stated "yes". To which he then informed me that they could open the pool but wouldn't run the filter as the water needed to be above the skimmer unit. Fortunately for him he didn't add, "because you only have 12" of water in your pool. I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE ASKED WHY THEY PUMPED IT SO LOW WHEN THEY CLOSED IT IN THE FALL.

I should note that the entire time they pumped the water off the cover, oh! during which they left for an hour and a half because it was taking so long, 'pool guy' kept hinting we must have a hole in the cover. Impulse control still working I didn't finally implode after the 'hole' theory was presented for the 10th time with, YOU MEAN THE TOO BIG POOL COVER I BOUGHT FROM YOUR COMPANY JUST LAST YEAR!!!

Also, another incident involved the 15 2~compartment bags. As they emptied the water to roll and stack them, for use in the fall, I noticed a few of them being placed in a separate pile. Asking why?, 'pool guy' said that one side on each in that pile had holes and hadn't survived the winter so he would dispose of them for me...????? At $15 a bag Xs 4 bags=$60 I stated that as one side still functioned why would I throw them away? 4 bags Xs 1 side leaking= 2 bags. I'm speculating that much like mechanics at a car dealership, I'd interferred with his commission for 'work outside of original issue'. Looking unhappy 'pool guy' grumbled "well if you want to keep them" as I walked away. Small victory but I cling to any victory no matter how minute.

When the cover was removed, cleaned rolled and put on top of the sawhorses, by 2 'pool guys' with numerous grunts, they left. Assuring me that 'when' the water was at the required level I could run the filter. Meanwhile though, since water level wasn't going to happen overnight, in 3 days or a week.....I could operate the filter on recirculate mode which would at least keep the water moving and some chemicals would keep things in check until then. They left.

The entire time 'pool guys' closed the pool and now opened the pool I could hear my Dad grousing. These were evolutions he completed, virtually solo, for over 21 years and now I have 'pool guys'-2 OF THEM-doing it. {Don't worry Dad the pool will be up and running soon, I promise}.

It took 2 weeks to get the water level at the required level. Meanwhile a steady leak from one of the 2 pipes on the side of the filter had been epoxied to a small drip. This 'fix' was recommended by the 'pool guy' and it worked. So the day arriving when I would turn off the pump to move the handle from 'recirculate' to 'filter'-- I was ready. I turned the switch to OFF, opened the strainer and cleaned it out thoroughly, tightened the strainer cover back on and it had been running it didn't need priming. I would turn the pump on and after the water started filling and big bubbles broke the top of the water I would do my Happy Dance around the pool. See Dad, I did it, HA!.

I turned the switch to ON, the electric buzz began........along with sparks shooting out of the pump casing followed by clouds of smoke........

Quickly I turned the switch to OFF, took a deep breath and told myself it was just a fluke and when I turned it on again everything would be alright. Reaching over I turned the switch to ON, I was right....no sparks.....no smoke....no electric buzz either......DEAD SILENCE. The pump had died. No Happy Dance for Susan. I went inside, typed in 'Hayward Pool Pumps' into my computer and found the best buy with free shipping and the quickest delivery. $300 and 4 days later at my feet a new pump.

Hm, Bet I Can Install This?

During the Self Imploding Potential Renter Days........

As that comedy was in its first act, 'dump day', Susan vs. Pool began. During the time the guy was suppose to show at 0900 and when they appeared much later, I decided it was time to take off the pool cover and geo started. I bought this pool cover at the end of the season of the first year I was POOL SOLO. Taking the cover off in the spring was its final act of my Dad's I CAN FIX THAT mode for the cover above. One of the last times my Dad closed the pool.  That cover had been used for years. He had patched it into 'where is the cover?' mode. Although the pool isn't directly under any trees naturally we still end up with leaves on the cover. Due to the field north of the property which often yields field corn, we also get corn stalks and leaves. Branches, which I obsessively pick up in the yard daily, also find their winter vacation home on it. Now and then a squirrel, mice, voles get stuck and freeze to death. So cleaning a cover off in the spring is always fun. My Dad always anchored the cover with field stones, railroad ties, cinder blocks and bricks. HEY, WHY SHOULD I BUY ANYTHING I HAVE ALL THIS STUFF JUST LAYING AROUND.

The first year it took me 2 weeks to store the anchoring material, the same 2 weeks to capture all the goodies on top of the cover and 3 dozen or more fillings of the wet vac to remove the remaining debris. THEN....Stuff still gets in the pool despite the cover. But when I finally got the cover off after a Olympian struggle including getting in the green cold water and pushed the cover out....oh always some water which tumbles off the cover, then I faced lots of leaves in the pool. Oh yea, leaves + corn stalks + branches + creatures. Why more than normal amounts? Because the 'patches' put year after year on the pool cover-WITH DUCT TAPE- flopped around still attached but NOT over the holes any longer.

Another week of fetching all of the above out of the pool and dribbling water from the hose in, I had the water level ready to fire up the filter.
When the deaths door cover was off, between other tasks, and spread out over the yard I took my revenge. With a pair of shears I cut it up. A few pieces of usable size was the result and the rest into the trash. Why you might ask did I keep pieces of this 'dear departed cover'. My father's daughter? Hm, bet I will be able to use that! On what? No clue. When? No clue. I just knew that the moment I threw it away I WOULD NEED IT. So neatly folded I put it with the tarps. Tarps? The ones my dad used, the ones which where shredded beyond use-I can fix that-, the new tarps still in cover-because they are a good buy.

So at the end of that year I would need a pool cover. When that time came I took the measurements of the widest/longest points of the pool and ordered a cover to fit. And it arrived, the pool cover that could cover Asia. The pool cover which I could rent out for the a pavilion at the next Royal Wedding. I watched the pool guys wrestle it open, into place and anchor it down with those 2 compartment bags filled with water and laid around the pool to keep the cover secure.

Last summer pool people took it off, rolled and stored.

In the fall I got it from where I stored it, unrolled it, and put it on. And last week fully rested I suited up to deal with the pool cover.......while the Duo of Disaster began their self destruction.

Now this was one of the several days of temperatures in the 90s. And this 'pool cover that could cover Asia', heats up faster than a gas stove on high. In my head I can hear my Dad yelling...."THE LAWN hurry and get it cleaned up and moved-its going to kill the grass!" But remember the 'Duo'?. It was about this point I turned around and saw they had arrived and were in the midst loading the first dump load. So I went over-noting from the previous post they didn't seem to need me-so went back to the cover. Sprayed it down at which point they asked me a question. I went back and answered them at which point we discussed how we would handle payment for dump runs....they left. I went over and started to flip the cover, mentally covering my ears for the inevitable fit from beyond. But as I was attempting to spread the cover to the other side to rinse it and midway I picked up the edge it wasn't heat or steam that emerged, it was smoke. I then hauled ass to drag the monster to the front yard under a tree where I spread it out, out of the sun and away from potential combustion. As I walked around the LH back toward the yard there it was.

A PERFECT RECTANGLE. {Its amazing how loud a bellow from beyond can be}. I'd killed the grass. Dead.

Being my normally creative self, I thought? If someone were to ask I could say I'd come up and there it was, an Alien Crop Circle. Of course the next question would be "Then why it is a perfect rectangle." Certainly I could find some creative way to explain the uniqueness of this particular crop circle. But, I went onto my next explanation....this had been the recent site of a Royal Wedding and when they brought down the awning~THEY had left it too long and it burned the grass. THEY planned to pay me for both the rental of the tarp as well as the damage to the lawn. OK then, how about, it was a one of a kind piece of performance art on the subject of geometric shapes.

But, no one was around but me and no one lived there at this point. My Dad? He wasn't going to buy any of those stories. "Yep Dad, I killed the grass. But it will grow back, trust me." I can hear it now "FORGET IT, NEXT TIME I'LL DO IT MYSELF"
Well, back to finish uncovering the pool.

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.