Goal #4 has been accomplished. The tree was painfully removed thanks to Chris and his ability not to squeal like a little girl while poisonous needles pierce his tender skin. We had to apply hydrocortisone cream to his dotted rash covered skin but I believe he will once again regain his baby bum soft epidermis. (You should see how soft his feet are, but I guess that's the result of always wearing socks and shoes unlike me who has a layer of armored skin comparable to that of an ankylosaurus. I'm confident in saying that my bare feet have had more fun getting to their current cracked state than any soft foot out there. Is it not a skill to be able to pick up used dryer sheets by just stepping on them?).
Our new problem and I suppose goal is getting the before mentioned tree excavated from the foot of snow now covering it in time for the trash man, or whoever it is who takes all remnants of Christmas to be recycled, to take it away. I tried with my Barbie sized muscles to get it out and failed.
Can you believe such a Barbie exists?! Why would any child want to pretend to pick up dog poop?!
Actually, I was already beat from shoveling. Maybe that's why I appeared to be Miss Wimpy for the neighbor across the street who was frolicking across his driveway with his snow blower while I trudged and budged the snow off of mine. Yes, you can frolic if you have a snow blower and you can use expletives if you don't, though I of course didn't.
As for the other goals, #1, Douglas has showered and smells like something fruity, watermelon I think. Because of the snow interfering with the satellites in space and the Martian who is wearing one as a hat, I haven't been able to accomplish # 2 , that of Google-ing the location of my gym. I have had a droplet of luck with #3 after we purchased some Batman underwear but have a very long road, river, whirlpool ahead of us.
The quest to find better foods expressed in #5 has been thwarted by the fact that I drive by a Macdonald's every day. Not that I regularly buy food there but I swear that I'm inhaling several grams of fat and a few teaspoons of cellulite every time my car nears it. Either I should get nose plugs or start hitting the re-circulate button at the first hint of a french fry. Time for a Rubens pinup.