Can I have another one, please?

My 71st birthday was the best ever. So good, in fact, that I asked Sarah if I could have another one today (6 June). Apparent ly it's against the law in California to have more than one a year.
We had prawn cocktail (made with shrimps) and pork chops and an enormous chocolate cake to follow. I had cards and kisses and two lovely books, one a photographic record of the rain forests of the world from Bruninha, whom I have definitely added to my list of adopted g-daughters; the other a singing birdbook from the children. I had a little weep too , and that's only right and proper.
This evening, everyone being out and me still being on a high, I went to Pizza Nova in Hillcrest for dinner. I have been there many times, and there are several reasons for my loyalty to the place. First, I know where it is, which is important given my sense of direction (I can get lost coming out of the shower). Second, they do a dish called Chicken Piccata with capers and all kinds of fresh vegetables, reasons for a good chicken to cross a road to get itself properly garnished. Thirdly, they do a smashing by-the-glass wine called Kaiken from Argentina; I don't drink the Californian house red - it is the kind of liquid you can use to loosen rusty bolts. Fourthly, the restaurant is close to the second-hand bookshops on Fifth Avenue, so I can spend even more money without guilt. And, fifthly, Gail, the kind of waitress who is simpatica, witty, attentive and genuine: she puts me in mind of the waitress in "As Good as it Gets", with me in the Jack Nicholson role.
And I've got a new shirt. Tell me what else does a person need to feel truly content?