We have a lawn.  I hate it, because it’s difficult to take care of, but we keep it because the kids (and we) do actually play on it.  In fact, the husband and kids are playing baseball right now.

While sitting out there today, I decided to pull a few tall weeds around the edges.  As I squatted down, my husband said, “I tried to pull those, but they’re in there too deep, and they’re prickly.”  I grabbed one.  It was prickly.  I decided to be all womanly, however, and pull it anyway.  I said “Ouch,” and kept pulling, and it came out fairly easily.  “They’re not so deep,” I said, and kept pulling.

By the time I was done, I had little slivers in my hand from the plants.  They washed out, but my right hand still feels nettled.  No, they were NOT nettles.  I know better than that!  I don’t know what they were, though.

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