After a trip to the Garden Center, I report my findings to the Historian:
Me (waxing rhapsodic): . . . and I found the rose --I'm pretty sure this was the rose--that was in my backyard in California, when I was in high school!
Historian (very good sport): Mmmm!
Me: It's a Grandiflora. (suddenly pedantic:) That means a big tall bush. With big flowers. It's called the Queen Elizabeth. Big pink flowers.
Historian: (pauses.) So did you buy it?
Me: No, I decided to wait because I knew I would need you to dig some holes. So I thought I should talk to you first.
Historian: . . .
Me: How do you feel about that?
Historian: . . . conflicted.