His mousy brown hair is thinning and receding even though he's still in his early thirties. He keeps it short and usually has a baseball hat or beanie to keep him with his own generation, so you don't see age trying to steal him for the future.
This will be his thirty third birthday which seems significant even though really it's just another day. He has no young man's delusions about birthdays. He'll still have to empty the dishdrainer and plan his own day. Obligations have taken over the patches of his head that his hair left vacant over the last few years.
He lives his morning the usual way. He walks his black lab on a dirt trail lined with pine near his home. Along the walk, he thinks about the beetle kill, what plans would best protect homes and water sources, and uses for the wood. Statistics swirl in his mind as he picks out ones that fit his ideas, like his wife might choose an outfit.
She's out of town so he has the evening to himself. He's planned to take a seven mile bike ride from Frisco to Copper with a group of guys he knows from his days as a ski instructor. They eat in Copper, then either ride back or take the bus depending on how many beers they have, but probably they'll take the bus.