i don't need therapy, at least, not for this

I have a mysterious neighbor. They are hardly ever at their house. Supposedly they have a cabin somewhere and they spend A LOT of their time there. They also drive two Hummers. Yup, you read that right, two. Otherwise, though, they seem like nice, normal people. When they're around. While fetching my mail the other day a noticed the wife in the front yard and said hello because I am curious about the mystery family and want to get the scoop. No real scoop was attained but while we were chatting, I asked if I could have cuttings of the beautiful roses that were starting to go wild in her yard. She informed me that they were planning to take them out, and if I would come get them, I could have them. I am a sucker for free roses so over the weekend I went trotting down the street with my shovel and Tommy's little red wagon. These roses were planted when the house was built about 15 years ago. That is also possibly the last time they were trimmed, needless to say, they were not easy to remove. Not at all. I broke our shovel in the endeavor, but I succeeded. I brought them home where I spent hours, trimming and splitting the plants. I then spaced them in between my heirloom cuttings, fed watered and fertilized them, because I am a good rose mommy. I ended up with eleven new rose bushes. And now I look like a cutter. Seriously, when I went to the pharmacy today I caught the lady staring at my butchered arms. I have to take my kid to the pediatrician tomorrow and I am planning a pre-emptive explanation so he doesn't call CPS to report my self-mutilation. Maybe next summer, I can bring him a big bunch of roses.

Note-It is very difficult to take photos of your own arms, so you'll have to enjoy this lovely photo of what I hope to have growing along my fence next June and use your imagination to picture my injuries.