The last word: Elves for hire

In search of Christmas, a reporter teams up with a Texas mom who "decks the halls" of other people's homes

THE GUARD WAVES my car into Stonebriar Country Club Estates at quarter to 7 on a Thursday morning in November. I wind along the neighborhood’s golf course, turn right, turn left, and pull up to Tammie Parnell’s big brick Colonial-esque house. Tammie, a 44-year-old mother of two, is already waiting for me in the long driveway, next to her Coke-can-red GMC Yukon XL. “Are you ready, elf?” she asks in her high-decibel Southern bark. She is wearing something fun—indigo jeans and fashion boots, a chocolate-brown turtleneck, and a suede vest trimmed in a foxy, faux fur. “I love that you’re on time,” she hollers. “I love people who are on time and ready to go! Are you ready to be my elf? We are about to get moving!”

I am ready to be Tammie’s elf. Between now and Christmas, I will be Tammie’s elf a lot.

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