How fun that we got to attend Hunter's baptism. It was nice that they all came to Utah, just so we could be there. He was excited and very cute. And of course it was fun to see Alissa, her family and my sweetie-pie sister Arlene, as well as her husband Duff. Of course holding a new baby is always fun. . .

Dante with his Eagle--a sweet lady in our ward does balloons--Jake calls her a "great balloonist." And she is. How very fun.


The dad and mom. Here I am in my, as Corky calls it, "fancy grandma shirt." Cracks me up.

Dante receiving his Eagle. Yipee!

All alone, awaiting his fate.

The Eagle, in his place of honor.

The Cake! I was so happy with how this turned out. It was one of those visions you get in your head and then once you start, you wonder what the heck possessed you to think you could possibly do this. But when it was finished, I was happy. I made a chocolate mousse filling that was to die for. In fact, one lady told me she was going to die eating it because it was so good. I did a practice run at home just to make sure it would work, and that cake was gone in a flash. So I figured it was good enough to serve. And easy to make!

Okay, I admit, I didn't design the cake. I found this picture on a box of paper. Pretty cool though, huh? Somebody thought I lasered it. Nope. But I liked him.

So boys who earn their Eagle Scout rank make their mothers very happy. Dante is 13 and I'm so glad he finished. Okay that sounds just like more of a sigh of relief, which in some ways it is because now it's done and we don't have to worry about it any more. But I'm glad for him, too. He worked hard, stayed on track and finished. He had a wonderful project, made baby hats for One Heart World-wide, a very cool organization. I think I talked about that earlier this summer when we were doing the project. A lot of boys just gathered things, but Dante had to work a little harder and get people to come, not just whoever showed up that night for scouts. I'm not trying to dis anybody or their project, this one was just a little different. I'm proud of him!

Two down, one more to go. . .

I realized I never showed the cakes we made for the Cub Scout Cake Auction this year. It is a huge and very fun event--our fundraiser for the year. And this year was really fun. Some years people get into the bidding and some years they don't so much. This was a good bidding year. Corky really had fun--I could tell he was bidding people up, with no intention to purchase that cake. But he would have. He said later he wanted to make sure that the cakes the Cubs made went for a decent price--he wasn't so worried about the cakes other people made, but the kids. He's a sweetheart, but he'd never admit to that.

So here are a few of the cakes. . .

A purse, by Simona--turned out very cute!

You can't see this very well, but it's a graveyard (not the gluten-free cupcakes in the front). I had little molds that made the skeletons and tombstones, and I made chocolate cakes in tiny loaf pans for the graves. It was fun.

Dante's masterpiece. He wanted to make a "cow pie." So this cake (not pie) is in a pie tin with cows on it. Later he wrote "Cow Pie, literally."

Witch fingers we sold on the $5 table--we also made mummies and pumpkins.

This is Witchy-Poo. Remember her from H. R. Puffenstuff? She was going to be cute, but then when I thought of the icky teeth, I just couldn't resist.

And here's my Frankie. I got the idea for him (and Witchy-Poo) from pictures on a napkin. I thought they looked like good cakes! I really liked Frankie's hair.

Jake's corndog. This one cracked me up. He wouldn't give up the idea of making a corndog, even though I really didn't have time to help much and couldn't figure out what he really wanted to do. Well, I was hoping that he'd kind of forget about it, but once the cakes were baking, he just kept talking about it. Dante's cake only used part of a recipe, so we put the rest into a regular-sized loaf pan. I had Jake put it in the freezer for a little while, then he cut it himself. He came up with a popsicle stick (not sure where it came from, hopefully from my craft stuff and not off his bedroom floor. . .) and then we mixed some frosting. I did help him frost because it gets kind of crumbly if you're not careful. But then he wanted to have red and yellow frosting to make ketchup and mustard. He did that all by himself.

I told Corky that he'd better bid on Jake's cake if nobody else was. I didn't need to worry. It was about the 3rd or 4th cake, and people had their paddles in the air before the auctioneer even started. That cake went for $25! Too funny. It was wonderful and Jake was thrilled.

I know we weren't really on the same level as the cakes we made last year, but that's okay. Maybe next year we'll try some of those again. I didn't have a couple that just didn't work, and maybe I can perfect them for another year, too.

People were very generous and we had a lot of fun. Here are some pictures of cakes other people made. The last one is fondant and very, very nice. It was really way too pretty for our table! But we sold it anyway.

These are a couple of the cheesecakes that everyone fights over--well, really bids. Holy cow--one group of people pooled their money just so they'd have a chance. I bought one for Corky last year, so we didn't go for it this year--still recovering!

A giant cupcake.

Here is the one with fondant--It has the Cub Scout Promise--the 100 on top is 100 Years of Scouting, and the Arrow of Light on the top layer, then the Wolf, Bear and Webelos symbols on the bottom. I say Wow.

Of course a cake auction wouldn't be complete with the appearance of Barbie. Always a hit.

Spider cupcakes. The couple who bought these then handed them out to all the kids. That was nice.

The blue pool is Jell-O. She scooped out the cake, cut the Jell-O in the right shape and plopped it in. Of course the little boy whose mom made this cake really, really wanted it back. He's a dinosaur fanatic. Nice that his grandpa was there, with his cash ready to go.

A Rubik's Cube! How fun is that?

This was Emily's and Richard's contribution--of course all the boys wanted it. Zombie vs. Robot vs. Pirate vs. Ninja, complete with game dice. So very awesome!

We have a soup pot luck dinner, provide the bread, which this year one of our old scout leaders decided he was going to make rolls instead of bringing soup or having us buy the rolls from Costco, like we did last year. There is always so much soup--and it's always very wonderful--that he figured his little pot wouldn't be missed. And we loved the rolls! He and his mom made over 300. I'd say that's some kind of dedication. It's very fun because the last couple of years we've gotten families to come who have nothing to do with Scouts, but because it's Scouts, they contribute. It has become a very fun tradition. I love it!

A friend of mine has been talking to me about blessings that come from a mission. She has a son on a mission, and has a friend who has two missionary sons. That friend has had nothing but problems, and my friend has had a lot of household things go wrong. She said that people at church were talking about how everything seems to go right for missionary families--more money, more blessings, etc. She wanted to tell them about all the problems, but refrained. So when everything seems to go wrong, how do you count your blessings?

I think there are spiritual blessings for us as a family, and we haven't had too many problems, but we're just getting into it, too. We had to repair the washer twice, within 2 months, but we bought that washer when my missionary was 1. I'm not looking for problems, and I also know trials and challenges come just with living, whether or not you have a missionary in the field.

But then there's that whole thing of does Heavenly Father send us trials, or are they just allowed to happen? I hear a lot of both opinions about that.

I really think a mission is where our boys grow into men, and without it, they will get there eventually, but it won't be the same. There is just a different depth to a person who has been on a mission, a deeper understanding of a lot of things--spiritual and temporal. You just don't ever get other opportunities to study the gospel like you do on a mission. When do you get to teach the gospel to someone who has been searching for something better in his life? It's so obvious when you see the light go on in their eyes, when the spirit hits and the understanding comes. It's an amazing feeling to be part of that, to know that Heavenly Father worked through you to help someone else.

When you get to see people in different parts of the world, even if it's only one state away, your world broadens. Your own understanding of life, people, and the goodness of God expands. When you eat in someone's home and know that they have given you the best they have, you are humbled and you reverence the person who gave their meal to you.

Our missionaries get to feel the spirit stronger on a mission than they ever will. They get to learn how to truly pray and ask for help, guidance, how to love, how to trust in the Lord. I'm not saying that none of these things will ever be gained by someone who didn't serve a mission, but it's just kind of a crash course instead of spreading it out over a lifetime. So please don't misunderstand me. I'm just so grateful for missions and missionaries.

As I think about the blessings of a mission another comes to mind. For me, it was also a blessing to be able to attend the temple at that time in my life. I was glad to have already been endowed and have already had that experience when I got married, so that time and that day was only about getting married. If I hadn't gone on a mission, I probably wouldn't have been endowed before getting married. I know some people don't see it like that or think it's a big deal, but I always felt that was a blessing for me to have been to the temple many times before my wedding.

A friend of mine who recently returned from being mission president commented to me the other day that he thinks sending out a missionary is the ultimate sacrifice. It is definitely much harder to be the parent of a missionary than to be a missionary. I was scared and wimpy, but also proud and excited to serve. I'd lived on my own for 4 years and knew I could do it, but I'd never been on a plane or been so far from home without being able to call my mom and dad or have some relatives close by. But this is much harder. Your children are everything and you'd do anything to protect them. I'm not there.

I think sometimes that email is not such a great thing. I love being able to "chat" with my son every Monday and know exactly (well, kind of) what he's doing and thinking, but then on the other hand, it makes me want to fix everything for him. And I know I can't. And shouldn't. If we as missionaries had problems and wrote home, our parents didn't even know about them until at least 3 weeks later, and then by the time their answer reached us, we'd solved the problem or didn't even remember what it was. We were truly on our own and had to grow up. I wonder if some of these missionaries aren't totally allowed to grow up because their moms and dads are too close because of email.

On the other hand, I think it's nuts that they don't get to email when there's a Conference or transfer day. Taylor was told by his Stake President to email once a week and they're making it so he can't! I think I've said this before, but when I'm in charge, I'll say the day after transfers or Conference or whatever, you get to a computer ASAP and write to your parents, just they know you are alive and okay. I don't even think it needs to be the full hour, just get there! Okay, I'll never be in charge, but that's what I'd do.

I sometimes wonder if my parents felt the same way about me and my missionary siblings. I had lived away longer than any of them, but was still their child. I don't see this getting easier. My other kids talk about when they will be missionaries and it's exciting to me, but also kills me just a little inside. They're my babies, every one of them. It's hard to know that they will be gone, grown up and strong individuals without me.

I have two boxes ready to go for Taylor's birthday. I can't believe I had that much stuff. I don't think I would have sent a second but Taylor asked specifically for marshmallows and graham crackers. So I'm going to spend $43 to mail them. How crazy is that? See, this is what I was talking about--am I letting him grow up? Or am I facilitating some crazy thing that will in the future be his downfall because he didn't have to do without something for a little while thereby not allowing him to completely mature in some weird aspect of society. Oh well, I guess I may never know. Until he has to see a psychiatrist and have association therapy proving my neglect of his precious little psyche. I'm sure that doesn't even make sense, but you get the point. (Obviously I don't know what I'm talking about. . .)

And on a nother subject, I had to take my sewing machine in for some repair. I wasn't getting a very good stitch and haven't for a few months. I'd clean, replace the thread and needle, it'd be okay for a little while, but then back to the icky stitch. So I finally broke down because Ken's pajama pants weren't looking very good. I didn't want them to fall apart while he was wearing them. Barbie wouldn't be very impressed, I'm sure. Even though I don't sew every day, I'm feeling lost and lonely without my machine. I've had it since 1982--yes, I know some of you weren't even born then, but I love that machine! When I graduated from high school I bought an Elna--hated it. Every time you wanted to do something, you had to change this little cam thing. Really, hated it. I learned to sew on a Bernina, so after I graduated from Ricks, I sold my Elna to my sister-in-law, who loves it and still uses it, and I bought my Bernina. It was the top of the line at the time, and I've loved it and never regretted the purchase. But now my baby is in the shop. I hope she comes back refreshed and ready to work!