This morning I made cinnamon rolls for the dad in our house, my husband. I made the dough the night before and let it rise in the refrigerator overnight. Then this morning I rolled it out, sprinkled on the raisin/nut/cinnamon/sugar mixture, cut it into rolls, let them rise again, then baked them. They were heavenly, but we did have to wait an more than an hour for our rolls. Next time I will try making them ahead up to the cutting them into rolls part and let them do their last rise in the refrigerator overnight.
Last week I had been all preoccupied wondering what I was going to get my husband for Father's Day. then suddenly I had a realization: he's not MY dad, he's my kids' dad. I don't have to get him anything. I talked with my sons about what they were going to do for him. "Buy him a new combination charcoal and gas grill," suggested my younger son. That idea was reluctantly rejected due to the cost. They finally decided on taking him to buy a new plant at his favorite nursery, Flora Grubb. And so they did. That afternoon a new woolly bush (adenanthos) appeared in the yard, and my husband spent a half an hour happily trying it out in several different pots.
As far as my own daughterly duties, I reached my dad in the evening, between two of his trips. He sounded excited, packing to go to Colorado tomorrow.
"I'm glad you're my father," I told him.
"Well, you didn't have much choice in the matter," he said.
"I got lucky," I said.
It's all true.