saying 'peace' to the people you meet and getting hot shit off your hands

Alright. So this summer I've barely blogged (that's right. I haven't at all.)
I've been coordinating day camp for preschoolers at the YMCA. When I thought that it wouldn't be stressful, I must have been a few beers in. I couldn't be any happier this summer is over.

Don't get me wrong. Life is good at Y, kids are fun (and often funny) and I work with people that for the most part, aren't so bad. It just gets old after ten weeks (heck, it got old after about three weeks.) I've been waiting for week 10 (this week) since about the fourth of July and I couldn't be happier that it's finally here.

But. Leaving the Y means moving onto something different. (and hopefully out of abject poverty). I'm movin' right on into (abject poverty) a year of service as an AmeriCorps volunteer. I'll be doing some ESL tutor advising and actual ESL instruction (!!!) as well as working with native English speakers preparing for their GED test or working on their basic literacy skills. Freaking yes. Working with adults. Working with adults that might not speak English. Working with adults that already do speak English. Did I mention that I'LL BE WORKING WITH ADULTS?

That means...
not one soul will call me 'miss liz' repeatedly until I'm certain that my ear drums will bleed.
not one soul will ask me to open their pretentious organic 'fruit masher' (fancy pants apple sauce).
not one soul will look at me, panic in their eyes, and tell me, "I have to go potty."
not one soul will have to be told to remove their hand from their pants in my presence (at least I hope not)
most importantly, 
not one soul will produce hot shit directly into my hand. ever again. (This happened after swimming one day when I discovered our youngest three year old had an accident. Apparently, I was thinking in the wrong tense. As I pulled down his trunks the accident continued right into my hand.) ...and you thought things at work were getting crappy! (come on, poop joke!)...

cue the hallelujah chorus.

Of course, there is also an entirely separate part of my life that is not comprised of anything YMCA related. Since my last post, I've moved into a beautiful apartment, cooked risotto for the first time, celebrated a few weddings , and generally just settled in to life in the 60618 since then.
It's beautiful, but let's be honest, my life doesn't look anything like I thought it would. Thank God for that. I have this interesting little patchwork life, with people and places sewn together in a way that's a little tacky, certainly crafty and decidedly & distinctively handmade. My life doesn't make sense to me. I live less than a mile in either direction from four of my best buds from college (one of them lives in the room next door- I counted her.) I still live less than an hour from my parents and a big chunk of my extended family. I drive, I take the bus, I walk a lot. I found a church that I think is fantastic (and Kayla will walk to with me). Things are strangely perfect in a way that I never even knew I wanted. 

But my life isn't all sunshine filled walks to friend's houses. I'm still depressed by pinterest (get real 'rock hard abs' pins alongside 'dark chocolate mocha brownies'.. who are you, singular person with six pack  abs, and why is your picture all over? LET ME PERUSE DESSERT RECIPES IN PEACE.) I still get completely unhinged over the most trivial things, and I still obsess about cleaning.

Suffice it all to say. I'm back, blogsosphere. That is, if you'll have me.