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Children Culture Home Life My Family Photography Road Trip Journal

Buxton Ninjas

Not long before lunch, a group attacked our motor home. They did not knock, just rushed in, and at first glance, I thought we had been invaded by terrorists, but when I voiced my concerns aloud to Jerry, one of them responded. “No Granny, we’re not terrorists; we’re ninja’s.” We do good things they had told me, but I did note each of them carried long wide swords. Come to think of it, earlier I believe I had seen these same ones dashing about the bushes here on Steve’s property.

Ninja Drake opened the screen and said to Pappy, “I’m very thirsty, and I see lemonade in your kitchen.”

I poured five small plastic glasses full; four with ice, one without. Ninja Seth lapped up the spilled lemonade like a puppy.

The eyes of Ninja Thane glitter.

Sweet little great-grandchildren of mine. They’re in the air now heading back to Carson City. “Are you ready to go home, Drake?” I asked this morning.

“No, Granny,” he solemnly responded.

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Art/Architecture Children Family Photography Road Trip Journal

Five Greats (Day 12 Summer Road Trip 2012)

Today we visited the Children’s Museum in downtown San Diego. What a glorious experience. Throughout the day I was able to capture a nice candid shot of each of the five great-grandchildren.

Sage Buxton 9 (Daughter of Chris and Christina)

Thane Buxton 8 (Son of Joel and Aisha Buxton)

Ethan Buxton 6 (I think) Son of Joel and Aisha

Drake Buxton 5 (Son of Chris and Christina)

Seth Buxton 5 (Son of Joel and Aisha Buxton)

They had a time, as did I. Among other things, they built structures, produced chalk drawings, climbed walls, blew bubbles, toured tunnels, painted a car, and a stack of tires.

This 2-year-old we met also painted. She was a riot, always wanting people to see her work. (If I were despondent, I believe I would consider going to a children’s museum–even if I didn’t have any of my own youngins’ to take. I’d sit and watch and smile, and perhaps my despondency would be lifted.)

At lunch after we left the museum, Ethan looked at his Poppy and asked, “Is it lying to tease?”

“No, not if you’re just teasing,” Poppy Steve answered. Thus began a discussion of lying with the youngsters snickering and tattling on each other. After a bit, Drake looked straight at me, very somber.

“Granny, I lie sometimes.” He stared at me, and I promise I could not help myself. I burst into laughter, looked at Steve, and he was rolling. You tell me, now.Take a look at Drake’s little face. It is just not possible that beautiful sweet boy ever lied. Grannies just know things like that.

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Children Family Humor Photography Road Trip Journal Uncategorized

Finale in San Diego (Day 13 Summer Roadtrip 2012)

I was awake quite a while before Jerry was this morning. I brewed coffee, poured myself a cup, opened the door quietly, then sat in a patio chair enjoying the cool air. It was just past dawn. A gentle breeze blew; birds chirped. I walked behind the motor home, camera in hand now and watched the play of sun on this budding day, invigorated by the scenes that moment by moment were developing.

San Diego was our designation. By noon we had driven there and had settled our motor home near the deck Jerry had built many years ago on our son Steve’s property.

Steve’s jacaranda tree is magnificent, in full flush bloom. But the best part of today’s trip is that five of my great-grandchildren just flew in from Carson City, Nevada to visit with their grandparents, Steve and Dearrah. They began the visit by jumping, leaping, running, laughing–all wearing cute tee shirts Steve and Dearrah had sent them.

When I tried to position the children for pictures, they leaped up on the wall, giggling so that for a backdrop I am able to present metal roof drains–but, hey, take a look at those gorgeous faces. Three of the boys belong to Joel; Sage and her brother belong to Chris.

Around 8:30 this evening as Steve was over here visiting in our motorhome, we heard rumblings at our door. Steve opened it, and in tumbled five little critters. Fresh from baths, they were ready to romp. They crowded around Pappy and I tried to get their heads arranged so Pappy’s would show for a picture, but I didn’t do too well. They are hilarious, and we ended the evening with all of them in the middle of the floor juking and jiving. I laughed until I could hardly catch my breath. The more we laughed, the faster and more ridiculously they danced.

In a few minutes, here came Dearrah. “Are the youngsters over here?” She had gone into the bathroom; when she came out all was quiet, for the little rascals had raced to the motor home.

Not much going on in our motor home now; just peace and quiet. Across the way? Can’t even imagine! A trip to the Children’s Museum is on the docket for tomorrow and we have been invited. . .but at this point we’re not sure! Let you know.

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America Children Christianity/Religion Family Friends Life Photography Social Travel

My 70th Birthday Party

Balboa Park is the largest urban cultural park in the country, the home of 15 museums, several renown artistic venues, and the world-famous San Diego Zoo: altogether, the park covers 1400 acres. Pepper Grove is the section Rebecca had chosen, Jerry and I took written directions the hotel furnished, and we found the area with little delay. Others coming from different streets, despite the large BUXTON signs stuck around the park, had a tad bit of trouble finding the group. The park is set among rolling–sometimes steep–hills and finding a certain area can be a challenge given the very large area Balboa covers.

The setting was idyllic; the finely clipped lawn stretched wide, then plunged steeply into a narrow canyon, its far edge rising to other green hills where grew also ancient California Pepper trees akin to those whose gnarled trunks and low-hanging branches stood before me in stately form. I gazed as Jerry parked the car, taking in the white tent that had been erected and the red and white checkered cloths that covered the tables.

Grandchildren ran to us, and thus began the party.

If the party had not been perfect, I wouldn’t try to convince you of such a notion, but in all truth, I can affirm that it was. From setting, to food, to conversations, to treats, “entertainment,” and to guests it was a sterling, perfect party, and it is safely ensconced in my memory bank, filed as a very special time and event.

“I want this to be a simple affair, Rebecca,” I had told her in the early stages of planning the party that my children were pitching for my 70th birthday. “I want my family and a few close friends there, but I don’t want anything extravagant; I don’t want it to be a burden on anyone.

“”Okay, Mom.”

That was the genesis of the party style, and I left it that way. Somehow these four marvelous youngsters of mine executed exactly what I wanted, even though I didn’t precisely know myself just what I envisioned. It was a dream party.

I had wandered around, admiring and exclaiming over everything, including my baby and childhood pictures that were displayed, which Rebecca had pilfered from our “picture room” in Crestline. The decorations were adorable and included bouquets of sunflowers and white daisies, stuck into large Mason jars and tied around with raffia streamers. Such was the thoughtfulness of these children of mine, that on every table, as part of the centerpieces, were resin ants, high-legged ones. I suppose those bug-eyed and fetching critters were to insure a realistic picnic ambience, just in case the natural born insects failed to make an appearance.

I was so engrossed with these things, that they had completely set up and were playing music before I even saw them. Those responsible were watching my reaction and later told me it was as though I was oblivious to them as two young women moved across the lawn, set up their instruments and began playing. I turned and saw that a cellist and a violinst had been engaged to furnish music for my party. Beside the people, who of course, ranked first, this music was my favorite part of the whole deal. With only a couple of breaks they played for the better part of two hours. That the music was so hauntingly beautiful, and afforded such a splendid visual sight, and that my children had thought of such a treat, moved me so that I stood in tears as I took it all in.

Michael had bought prime rib roasts and hand cut them into steaks, which he grilled to order, along with chicken breasts, and hot dogs for the children. Corn boiled in a giant pot, gourmet cheese was passed and green salads and luscious bread and plain butter and herbed butter, and fiery red watermelon slices were handed around. Then was the cake, black and gooey, and there were huge cupcakes with sunflowers in their centers, and gifts, and Happy Birthday sung to the string accompaniment and then I said, “It’s Shawnna’s birthday,” so we sang again, and this time I joined in.

They thought of everything; had engaged people from Andrew’s church to help serve, brought bottles of bubbles for the children, and their paper plates of food were served atop a Frizbee, so that when they finished eating, a Frizbee game went on for hours.

We visited for a very long time, and then the light began to fade, and we gathered for group pictures.

My four marvelous kids and their daddy and their mama.

And after this picture was taken, I said, “Okay, all the adults be gone. I want a picture of my grandkids with their granny.”

In no way do I deserve the life I have lived; the marvelous husband I married, the astonishing children God gave us, our 12 grandchildren and 8 great-grandchildren and the large number of loyal and loving friends. I’m thankful for health and physical possessions and that I live in this wonderful country, the United States of America. I’m ecstatic that I’ve been blessed with 70 good years on this earth.

This morning, we had a two-hour breakfast with Steve, at 3:00 we’re meeting Rebecca and Andrew and their families at the beach in Imperial Beach and at 7:00 we’re having dinner with our dear friends, Nita and Johnny Hodges.

The birthday lives…:)

NOTE: Click on the pictures and they will enlarge.