That there are 37 shades of green viewable from my balcony, and I like almost all of them.

That it’s a fine thing, as Bilbo Baggins said, to celebrate one’s birthday. (Chocolate cake is a must.) My brother-in-law passed away at 40. My good friend disappeared (literally) at 47. If 42 marks mid-life for me, I’m okay with that.

That my kids will always be in good shape, emotionally and mentally and physically. My wife and I have tried our hardest.

That I’ll always be a writer. It picked me, and I can’t quit.

That one day, after our beloved cat passes away (many years from now) I’d like to own a tuxedo with a silly half-mustache, and name him Felix.

That the best movie of all time is “We Bought a Zoo.” It’s perfect in every way.

That brisket is my favorite cut of meat, and I need to learn to cook with Cotija cheese. Fish tacos, too.

That there will always be a special place in my heart (and mind) for my wife, Luanne.

That I’m lucky to have found such a great crew of friends for pickup soccer. They tolerate my erratic play and utter lack of skill, often with humor.

That the most mournful guitar play in the world belongs to Jerry Cantrell in Alice In Chains’ “Over Now.” The most mournful piano/organ piece belongs to Richard Wright in the closing of Pink Floyd’s “Shine On You Crazy Diamond.” Makes me cry every time.

That 2017 isn’t going to be a mournful year for me. Neither will age 42. “Tempest Road” comes out this summer, and “Destruction” (thanks to heroine June Vereeth) is writing itself.

That a little depression here and there is nothing to fear. I am lucky.

That I still have plenty of time to help people, to be of service beyond entertainment.

That I will see orbital colonies in my lifetime, though Carl Sagan’s capitalist view of the idea is probably what will happen.

That I’m lucky to interact with people from all across the globe. I need more of that.

That when I see the kids’ half-finished Lego sets, there’s still time and place to dream.

That the best (or most sarcastic) line I’ve ever written might be, “Love hurts, Baby.”

That the world needs a cure for breast cancer much more than the iPhone 8 (or 18) or self-driving car.

That I should close these thoughts with the mantra I–and every school kid–should wake up to each day: “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” –Dr. Seuss