Several days ago, Laurel asked me if I had any "sacred" items out there in the world somewhere, belongings that were incredibly important to me that I might have lost along the way or maybe still had somewhere, maybe locked away in a shrine and bathed with light from two rainbows and a burning Cupid or something.

I told her that I had this ashtray once, that had previously belonged to my Mom and that she used while she was pregnant with me and really wanted a smoke.

She told me that one time when she was lying down on a couch while maybe seven months pregnant with me, she had the ashtray on her belly when I suddenly kicked, and I knocked the thing off to the ground and it was the first mess I'd ever made. She later gave me the ashtray as a birthday present after I'd been away at college a year or two, and like the dipshit that I am, I lost the ashtray somewhere along the way, probably leaving it behind in one of my old houses when I fled for my life.

Laurel made me describe the ashtray in detail, with measurements and color samples, and then a few days ago she unveiled her surprise.

She had made a cake of the ashtray using a Martha Stewart recipe book, with blue frosting for the original blue tiles, exactly as I had described it.

On Monday, she had to bring it in to school to show the sculpture class, and then on Monday night she picked me up from work and drove me to her place so she could take pictures of me actually eating it.

I have about half of it left, its amazing.