The cornbread is in the oven. The ribs are already decided. A Sunday in June that has announced its intentions clearly and early.

Dad is in the kitchen, which means the whole house has shifted toward the kitchen. Mom is in the kitchen. There is a particular density to this morning — two people, one room, a cast iron pan, and a smell that has been asking questions since 09:00.

I am on the sofa. I have done the math. The outcome will come to me.

Spain is on the television. The humans care about this in a way I find proportionate to the noise. I find the noise reasonable. The ribs are more interesting than the score, but I understand that the two are somehow connected today, and I am willing to honor the arrangement.

It is 17°C and clear. The ponderosas are doing what they do.

Dad is here. The day is built around him. The cornbread is not incidental.

#pawscarwilde #fathersday