One of the highlights of Mom’s trip this time around was our train ride to the Mission of San Juan Capistrano, one of the dozen or so missions that was founded in 1775. It’s a beautiful place and a great piece of history.

We rode the train up for fun. Mom hadn’t been on one in years, and trains always make me nostalgic for Europe. The train dropped us off in downtown San Juan Capistrano, a teeny town with a few touristy shops worth a browse. We ate some fantastic Mexican food before heading to the mission.

I took some pretty fantastic photos, if I do say so. The cathedral was half destroyed in an earthquake, but I love the graceful ruins as much as I would the whole thing. I am drawn to churches and love photographing them, though I long ago shed my connection to Catholicism.

In the photos you’ll see a saint showing a little leg (with a wound). I was curious myself. It’s Saint Peregrine, who was something of a hood as a kid. He came around to the church eventually. Then he found out he had cancer of the leg (is that a thing??) and prayed his ass off. The wound healed and he lived happily ever after.

It was a fantastic day. Well worth the next 6 days I spent in bed with an infection. (And don’t worry Jen, I’ll take you too).

One of the many benefits to living in San Diego is that we can go to Italy any time we want. Little Italy, that is. We can get gelato, fresh pasta and espresso…and be home in time for dinner.

Today Max and I took an impromptu trip for some gelato at our favorite place. We sunned ourselves and people watched. Enjoyed watching a fleet of Italian bicyclists, complete with Italian branded racing gear, zooming by, then taking a photo under the famous Little Italy sign.

What I love is that you do feel like you’re in Europe, only surrounded by a mix of mid-century houses and modern condos, rather than centuries-old architecture.

We stopped in my favorite Italian grocery store for some frozen butternut squash ravioli. Max refrained (this time) from making comments about the stinky cheese. Mmm. Stinky cheese.

They’ve got a great farmer’s market, but we haven’t been in a while. This renewed my interest in going again.

Ahh, la vita è bella. (envision hand motions)

Just a few days over a year ago, we pulled up to our new house in San Diego. We’d been traveling across Route 66 for the past 3 days, and were ready to unpack into our new lives in California.

The year has gone by quickly. I’ve now seen all seasons here, and am slowly coming to terms with the fact that the temperature drops about 20 degrees from 3 pm to 6. (Inevitably I don’t pack a sweater if I’m going out and then live to regret it).

I accept the fact that I can’t get a cat because if it goes outside, it’ll get eaten by a coyote. In the city.

I deal with the fact that gas is now $4 a gallon. I don’t drive less.

I’m still struggling with the fact that Mexican restaurants don’t have cheese dip. That’s probably the hardest thing. But the fish tacos make up for it.

I’m loving the fact that Max is basically fluent in French after just a year. I grit my teeth when he tries to correct my 12+ years of French study.

I still revel in our beautiful garden, even though sometimes it’s a lot of work. Still sad that we’ve not successfully grown any vegetables.

All in all, we love San Diego. We’ve made amazing friends, and plan to make this home for a long time.