How should I know an eight-foot white pine weighs 500 pounds? I'm a city girl gardener and, besides, all those fluffy needles, those thin branches, roots, what's that, fifty pounds? So I barge on into a local nursery and pronounce that I'd like a white pine tree and will be taking it away atop my sturdy car. The lady's eyes bulged nicely. She asked and what kind of car do you have? I said a Subaru. She then told me the weight and that two men and a truck and some machine she named by brand name would be able to come to my pad and install the thing to the tune of $500. I failed to connect with her telepathically to give me what I wanted, to give it all to me for perhaps $200. So instead I bought a rusty obelisk for far far less and it'll have to suffice at the moment. It's only five feet tall. It's not a white pine tree. I want a white pine tree. Everything cannot be perfect in Nancy's World if, when her world incorporates her backyard, she doesn't have a fucking white pine tree and she wants one. Thank you.