FIRST CHAPTER!

Diary of a Sorority House Mom is finally, at last, available for pre-release sale at a reduced price while we wait for the e-book conversion to be completed. At that time, it will be available in bookstores, and online at Amazon/Kindle.

For now, it can be ordered at my publisher’s bookstore. The link is http://www.createspace.com/3848456

Here’s the first chapter to give you an idea of what you’re in for. I wish I’d known.

Hope you enjoy.

 

Chapter 1

First Impressions

Why was my heart racing? I had sung before thousands of people; spoken in front of filled auditoriums. Yet in this majestic living room half a continent away from my home and surrounded by about 80 co-eds, I was terrified.

While the president and sorority members voted on house rules and contractual matters for the upcoming year, my eyes surveyed the room. This was definitely not a cookie cutter sorority house. Granted, we had the stereotypical Blond-Haired-Blue-Eyed-Susie-Sorority-From-The-Silent-Majority type, but there were also girls from a multitude of Asian, European and South American nations. Over a dozen states were represented.

I was in one of those pregnant-in-thought moments when the advisor tapped me on the shoulder and spoke words that opened my sweat glands:

“Ladies, this is our new house director, Ann Hyman.”

No turning back.

After a round of snapping (the universal sorority equivalent of clapping) the questions started flying.

“Are you in a sorority?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have kids?”

“Yes. My daughter graduated from college last December.”

“What does she do?”

“She coaches at a university in Southern California.”

They thought that was pretty cool.

Patrice, the sweet-spirited and sparkly-eyed president who hired me, took her place by my side and presented me with a gift certificate in the amount of $150 for a massage at a local, high-end resort. The girls had taken up a collection to thank me for getting the building painted, flowers planted and watered back to life (my predecessor had turned off the sprinkler system in June) and the house in beautiful order to save them valuable time during prep week. I almost cried.

The advisor returned to my side and told the girls they had all year to ask me questions and to give me a chance to speak.

Deep breath.

“Ladies,” I said, “This is my first experience living in a sorority house, and I’m really excited to be here,” which received a rousing round of “snap, snap, snap.”

 

Another deep breath.

“Unlike most of my contemporaries, I get sorority life and understand that college kids smoke, drink and have sex. But you can’t do it here”

A hand shot up. “I don’t smoke.”

This time the room erupted in laughter and the cute little blond’s friends jostled her from all sides.

“OK,” I thought, “this is going pretty well.”

And then the real questions started flying:

“Can we recycle liquor bottles?”

Wow.

“Come on, guys,” I laughed, “you just voted on a contract that says the house is dry.”

The advisor stood again, thanked me for my time and said we’d cover house rules later.

I returned to my second-floor apartment, pressed my back against the closed door and said it out loud. “What was I thinking?”

 

Ten minutes later the advisor knocked on my door.

“The girls want to know if they can recycle liquor bottles.”

“You’ve Got To Be Kidding Me,” I answered.

“What should I tell them?”

“Tell them they can’t drink in the house.” She had been their advisor for over eight years. Why was she asking me?

Only minutes later there was another tap on my door. She was back. “Can they put the liquor bottles in trash bags and recycle them?”

I explained that the recycling was separated by glass, plastic and paper, so that option wasn’t viable either. She turned to leave and I shut my door again.

This time it took a full five minutes before the knocking resumed.

“Can they get trash bags from the kitchen and take them to a frat house to recycle?”

Good God.

“What the hell,” I said, “Why not.”

I flopped down on the couch to call my Abbi, and said, “I’m in for a hell of a ride.”

“Mom,” she laughed, “I spent twenty-three years training you for this job.”

 

To order, go to the publisher’s website at

http://www.createspace.com/3848456

See you tomorrow. Be safe out there.