We used to go to volleyball night with at church when I was younger. Afterward we would sometimes go to Baskin Robbins. They had a book of ice cream cakes there. I can still remember some of the pictures. A rabbit and a clown (don't they know about the general clown/creepiness situation?) were at least two of the options.
Anyway, for months before my birthday I was coaching Adam that the one thing I really wanted was an ice cream cake.
I got one. A delicious Coldstone chocolate ganauche confection of many wonders. With my name written on it even.
And I violently hacked it apart with a large knife apparently.
There's no need to be alarmed. Irene clearly wasn't.
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