I'm back! I finally have time to write again because I’m between semesters but not enough time/access to the internet to keep everyone individually updated on my adventures. So…I finished my first semester of law school. We don’t get our grades until February, so all I can say now is that 1- law school aint no joke and that 2-I don’t think I flunked out yet.

Miami is warm all the time and therefore inhabited by adorable little lizards and more foreigners than (eww) Americans. Whenever I’m really about to lose my mind I can hop on my bike and in a few minutes either be lying by the pool on campus or at Whole Foods for the free samples of cheese, or if it’s a really good day sushi and popcorn. Plus it’s cheaper and easier to go to New Jersey for the weekend than when I was in Albany, so I went three times last semester. My point is that it’s been bearable, mostly.

As everyone who cares probably knows by now, Rose and Ader are no more, since September 13, 2012. Long story short, even though Ader still loves me, I’m not marriage material, at least not right now, and he’s not getting any younger—his words, translated and paraphrased. I wouldn’t say I’m over it exactly. Losing your best friends, your plans for the future and one of the places you refer to as ‘home’ isn’t something you get over. But after a few weeks the involuntary tears stopped coming at inappropriate times and my appetite and ability to fall asleep came crawling back.

I still have hope that one day—in my day dreams it’s sometime in early May 2015 but it doesn’t have to be—Ader will come around, we’ll pick up where we left off, he’ll come to my graduation, stay and take study breaks with me until I pass the bar exam. Then we’ll move back to Montrouge, I’ll make a dent in my student loans, we’ll move to a bigger apartment in the sezième or somewhere else where the sidewalks don’t smell like urine, quietly get a marriage certificate at a city hall in Paris and then maybe a year later, when I’ve made an even bigger dent in my student loans, we’ll have a kind-of wedding/excuse to have a party in Morocco and then in the US, in a state where gay marriage is recognized, ‘cause that’s only fair. Then sometime after I turn thirty we’ll have a baby girl named Varenne, after the metro station where we used to meet when we first started dating, which isn’t entirely true but you can’t name a baby Place de Châtelet.

And in the meantime, I think I know how I can keep myself occupied. My whole family reads this blog so that’s all I’m going to say on the matter, but those of you with whom I routinely overshare—I’ll fill you in.