(1) This thing in the New Yorker. (2) Bleu Cheese. (3) Anthony Bourdain. Still, anyway, regardless. (4) Writing about American sport. (5) Cutting the grass. (6) The poetry of Maurice Manning. (7) Autumn in Alabama. (8) Hot coffee. (9) Paring down. (10) Going slow. (11) Antihistamines. (12) Sleeping soundly. (13) Windows open in the house, trees in the dense woods out back swaying and creaking. (14) The bright blue sky. (15) My son’s predilection for Queen, still. He knows all the band members’ names. He has the double-album of the band’s greatest hits, knows by heart which songs are on which sides. He is four years old. (16) Forgiving myself. (17) Laying burdens down. (18) Long-sleeve shirts. (19) Times New Roman. (20) Trying to learn how to teach better. (21) Shaving. (22) Putting a little dot of shaving cream in my son’s little hand, him lathering up his chin, then “shaving” it off with a capped razor. (23) Doing “science” in the side-yard, with the aforementioned son, which apparently consists of picking up and putting down, in rapid succession, several sprigs of a fern-like weed. (24) My immune system. (25) The blinds in our living room. (26) The morning ritual. (27) Roasted garlic. (28) Family Self-Care Day. (29) Thinking about where commas go. (30) Chocolate chip muffins that, in fact, taste like cupcakes.