At seven o’clock, Sigma Chi’s at Baylor have their weekly meetings, and I, being the lucky girl I am, get to come talk to these boys (excuse me…young men) at the beginning of their meeting. I dote on the fraternity’s accomplishments, honor the “Sig of the week,” with a little gift, tell them about upcoming events and rewards for involvement. Mainly, I come to say, “good job guys, y’all are great.” And they are. I love these guys.
But when I come to say good job, baked goods also come with me. One thing a Sweetheart of a fraternity does is…bring the food. I walk up those stairs with baskets of cookies, trays of dessert pizzas, buckets of fruit kabobs, brownies, whatever else. Not everything is baked, I admit. And My roommate, Terrell, helps me out a ton.
Today was Wednesday. Today I didn’t bake, and I regret it. If it gives you a clue as to why I regret not baking, this is how I introduced the treat for the day: “I’m embarrassed. It’s looks like alien throw-up, but it tastes good. I promise. I tried it.” My mom made this punch when I was little. It’s Sherbert in a bowl of 7-up and orange juice. When I made it, the juice looked like pee, and the Sherbert looked like lumpy green…something. Hmmm. And then I told them birthday dinner was on thursday, and they asked “this week?” I only realized when I got home that I should have said “Tomorrow,” instead of “Thursday.” Oh Whitney.
Sometimes I think the job of being sweetheart must seem sexist and stereotypical to some people. I cook for guys. I kind of feel like a mom sometimes. But, I love to cook. What’s the point of sweetheart? I think it’s just to care about the guys in a genuine way, a less testosterone filled way. Hmmm. Sweetheart is such a romantic term…these guys are more like brothers…except one. One stands out in the crowd to me.