Acquaintances, friends and frenemies, I write you this note because I know you are concerned. “Where is Jackie?” you query. And to my faithful 2.75 readers, I have to apologize. Well, qualifiedly apologize. I only offer qualified apologies, typically. Those are my favorite.
Regardless, I apologize, but it’s not my fault I’m sick. The musty air that has finally drifted its way up from that heinous and fashionless city called Houston is here. They send their smog our way just to ensure that the abrupt mixture of hot and cold air ruins my daily sexy voice I have worked on for so many years, and turns me into Lucille Ball Circa-1978. Not to mention makes coordinating my Tory Burch shoes with my Gucci handbag a much greater challenge than usual. I mean, Harrison Driver with my Boston bag? Maggie pump with my hobo? (the purse, not the man) It’s all blurring together, and I simply cannot let this obviously deranged mind leave the house, let alone respond to my Dear Jackie O letters this week.
Really, though, as I snuggle up here in my Dian Austin Couture bed linens and email my parents the links to the main 67 items I am asking for this Christmas, I have had some time to think about this holiday season and all it means. This line of thought began while I was driving by the Azure the other day, and as I gazed through the glass windows at their 14-foot tall tree, currently placed awkwardly next to a statue of a dude on a horse, I decided I should make a change this holiday season.
Even just yesterday, as I walked past the hobo (the man, not the purse) in front of Walgreen’s, I actually smiled at him as I lied and said I had no cash on me. Or when I walked into Neiman’s at Northpark to go pick out which purse I’ll be judiciously selecting for the spring season, I generously put a dollar in the Salvation Army tin. And the Angel Tree? I even stopped and read a few of the tags... so I could really feel so sorry for those kids.
As you may have noticed by my example, it’s the season of giving. Everyone in Dallas should join in. Indulge in that spirit of generosity. Toss an extra dollar to the valet guy… give someone your bar spot at the Loon… maybe even refrain from giggling at your friends when they tell you joining Junior League just isn't for them. It’s all about others this season – so do your part.
Now, which one of you is going to bring me my Pear & Gorgonzola salad and soup, with a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade and a chocolate chip cookie from Bread Winners? Hmm? My concierge will await your arrival. And don't you dare embarrass me with a North Dallasy-sized tip. I can see it now... A flabbergasted concierge and a shattered reputation. Merry-Freaking-Christmas to me.