Joan just showed me how to use a weed eater.

I have always hated those things. And today, I hated having it
turned on in my hands. I dug up a big patch of dirt
outside the rose garden turning that piece of pretty property
into something that looked like an early grave.  Joan took the
weed eater back from after that. A close friend of mine's mother
got hit in the head by a piece of flying metal, or rock, and,
instantaneously, became a vegetable for life because of what
the weed eater hurled at her. Be careful people.