These weeks, they're strange weeks. Summer is a time that seems to be seperate from the rest of the year for me, but this summer has determined so many things for me that are definitely not seperate from everything else.

Summer is the time I know best in France. It's what I knew of this place before I showed up last August, ready to hit the year running. Walking on the shady side of the wide street. The smell on the streets- apres rain mixed with exhaust mixed with cigarette smoke mixed with cafes. The smells of cooking coming out of windows. Confused tourists with maps. Forgetting to take sunglasses off when you walk down into the metro. Summer here makes me ridiculously happy. Every single time I look out my window and see all the rooftops or even just walk down the street I get happy chills. I hope that feeling never goes away. Last night a friend was starting to get nervous about leaving and suddenly stopped and said "Oh my god Gina, you live here now!"

So for the record, yes, I do live here now. Earlier this week I was accepted into the Masters program in Metiers des arts et de la culture. I found out officially today, but a friend of the Centre Oregon who works with the program was there when they made the lists, and leaked the information to Laurie, who leaked it to me. This is basically my dream program, so now I get to stay in a place that I love and do something that I love. (Ok, something that I love that involves learning accounting. In Freeeeeeench) This is two more years of school, with an internship each year. Watch out French art scene- here I come! Be warned. Also, my Masters from U of O was made official, so you do all have to call me Master now. Just kidding. Well, not really.

And now, to lighten the mood, i would like to share Alex's impressions on the 4th of July (via my translation) - "You people sure have a lot of flags." I am rather upset that HE got to see fireworks, and I don't even get 14 juillet fireworks because I'll be in ARIZONA then. And no, I won't get to see him while I'm there, because Spokane is far. And he has next to no free time. This is what we call a "bummer." It's ok, I still love him, even when he wakes me up in the middle of the night with text messages. That would be my fault for leaving the phone on. I'm already on the sappy train, so now would probably also be a good time to mention that right before he left, after i spent the night having random acts of crying, he hid notes ALL over my apartment. Wait, did I already say this? When I found the first one I cried. Everywhere, people, everywhere. Of course I saved them all.