This is our friend Shanan, captured in the very moment that a cup of mango ice cream and mango sauce crossed the blood-brain barrier and produced a bright nova of endorphins in her brain. At the left of the frame you can see Schmutzie (that’s one for all you Schmutzie watchers out there).
Let’s be thankful that Shanan didn’t create the universe in some moment of Yahwistic whimsy. “Behold, this is mango ice cream, with which I am well pleased.” Then everything in the universe would be mango ice cream. The firmament above and earth below, the seas and the sea cucumbers alike, the beasts of the forest and the forest itself. Plus all personal electronics. Even we would be made of mango ice cream, and our hair would be a big drippy dollop of mango sauce. Periodically Shanan would appear in the night and carry us off to her celestial court, where we would be eaten.
It would be a ridiculous universe, and we should be very glad that God likes to eat immortal souls, not ice cream.