live. work. dream.

When Jim and I told friends that we were staying on a farm with people we’d never met before, more than one person asked, “How do you know they’re not total psychos?” Well, my response to that is, “How do they know that we aren’t psychos?”

You don’t know.

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We haven’t had any good Mexican food since we left California. In fact, we haven’t had any, or even tried looking for it until recently.

The reason? In all the miles we’ve traveled we hadn’t passed through any communities with enough – shall we we say, authentic color – to warrant a dinner out until we reached Florida.

But once we saw an authentic looking Taqueria, a Mercado selling dresses and phone cards, and our first Tecate billboard in over 29, 000 miles, we figured the food was worth a try. While it wasn’t bad, it was nothing to write home about either. But here I am doing just that.

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