In no particular order:
My children make me happy — especially when they’re together having fun.
The physician patiently listening to my father’s time travel narrative from baseball to Africa to Boston, and asking appropriate questions like there was nothing out of the ordinary in his story makes me happy.
People who ask “How’s your father doing?” and then walk away before I have a chance to answer make me sad.
My father chuckling and outright laughing at Gary Larson’s The Far Side makes me happy.
My father making many mistakes on the crossword puzzle and not recognizing them as mistakes makes me sad.
Hearing from friends makes me happy.
Jeans that fit make me happy.
A hole in the pocket of my favorite jeans makes me sad.
A doe peeking her head above the grass to watch me as I walk on the road (and then learning that she recently gave birth to fawn) makes me happy.
Posting something on my blog makes me happy.
Too much busyness makes me sad.