An ice cream cake was recently discovered in the Cambian layer of our freezer. Carbon dating indicates that the cake is not really very old and, in fact, was only very recently "put on ice" (as the quaint expression goes around our house. ) Sadly, about half the image has been eaten away by either 1) freezer burn or 2) very clever and cold-tolerant mice. I've done my best to restore/recreate the original picture. Instead of calling it a fresco I have jokingly referred to it as a frostco. Ha! Such wit! As it turns out the cake was custom made for Susan's birthday and the [expensive] decorative icing was meant to celebrate this grand adventure we both are going to take. I do not think it is a good omen, though, that I (Dad Taylor) do not appear in the passenger seat in the picture. Either Susan is unaware I've been thrown from rickshaw into a skim coat of cow manure on the road or she is aware and is delighted by the thought, figuring I will catch up with her at some point and - after a shower - regale her with the story over a gin and tonic. Looking forward to it.